You know, Mr. B would probably at least whine about one of his students doing that in regular life, but apparently it's fine right now. Because he doesn't move, and neither does the memory.
Edited (the longer this takes them the more delighted I am) 2020-06-10 02:38 (UTC)
That beer was gross, and now she's going to have a headache later. Audrey resists the urge to sink on to the floor in defeat only because the floor is so sticky. From where she stands, she throws the ball back to the cup in front of Ms. Altizer. Surely the truth must still lie in the pong.
Or making out with Jupiter, who can say, that's as good an idea as any.
"There's bound to be a kissing closet somewhere," Claudia muses, and she finally turns away from her future teacher to start looking for closets. "Maybe a blanket strung up in a corner to hide the smoochers. Who wants to investigate the best places with me?"
The beers in the towers are all empty, a monument to the things grad students can achieve when they really put their minds to it, but one of them feels different. One of them crumples under Jupiter's hands, the tower tilts precariously, and things start moving again.
A cardboard sledder careens down the stairs at a disastrous angle and slams into the tower of beer cans. The tower crumbles, cans scatter, and partygoers throw themselves out of his way. One slams into the blonde, who stumbles forward into Alva’s chair at the exact wrong moment, and he faceplants right on the floor.
Well, almost on the floor. It’s a long second before Nes notices the dumb plastic horn with a splintered mouthpiece jabbed right into his eye.
“Shit, Alva!” Nes spits out and drops to the ground by his side. Someone’s already on the phone, calling for an ambulance in rapid Russian. “Shit, fuck, Alva, your eye, Laveau’s la—”
Nes stops, midsentence, and quirks her head. She can see the person on the phone from here; a petite blonde girl with a whole lotta boobs. And if no one here understands Russian, don’t worry. Nes sure as hell does.
Her tone changes abruptly, and she looks down at Alva as he yanks the vuvuzela from his eye. “Did she just call you her boyfriend?”
Alva pauses. Potentially considers stabbing the horn back on his face before letting go. It clatters to the floor. Everything stops again, a sheepish smile frozen on his face.
Literally, actually, there is blood and eye juice just everywhere, and Audrey looks a little sick, a little pale. She turns away from that and on a whim, steals the blonde girl's phone. Is she even calling an ambulance? And it could restart the memory they have to pick up the next piece in this strange Rube Goldberg machine of an evening.
Trudy is leaned in very close to her teacher's face, very clearly fascinated by the scene. "I didn't know this memory would involve so much interpersonal drama," she says, her eyes still on the bloody mess of his face. "Honestly, it doesn't look irreparable to me, with some halfway decent treatment. Do you think Altizer keeps him from getting an ambulance out of spite?" It seems reasonable to her. She looks up at the busty blond, then approaches to snatch her phone.
There is no voice on the other side of the phone, and the memory remains frozen. The vuvuzela continues to glow every time one of the girls kicks it in their rush to investigate the next step.
"I think we need some music," Claudia suggests, grabbing her phone from her purse. "I bet there's a SpotWizFy station for just this kind of situation." And if not, there should be. They're getting to be almost common.
The landline, wallbound phone reveals nothing about her relationship with Alva. What fucking year is this? How old is Mr. Berzelius?
But when Jupiter grabs the vuvuzela and pops that eye off the end, things start up. God, was it really the eye thing? It was the eye pong, wasn't it?
“I mean… you kinda did break up with me.” Alva’s smile turns into more of a grimace, and he tries to back away from Nes’ grasp.
“To study abroad, Alva,” the not-even-slightly-sympathetic Clytemnestra answers. “You’re supposed to pine for me, jackass.”
“I did! I am!” Alva pulls himself up to a sitting position and clamps a hand on his injured eye. “I’m also in need of medi—”
“Uh-uh, you are not getting out of this so easily. So did you just pick the girl with the biggest boobs at the portkey hub and ask her to be your girlfriend, or do you two have a special con—”
“C’mon, you know you’re the one been flirting with some Perfect Human Specimen all night!”
“Because you weren’t paying attention to me.”
“Um, excuse me, uh.” The petite blonde—Alva’s apparent girlfriend edges up to the pair, twisting her hands together fretfully. “I do think we need to be going to, uh, hospital?”
Nes stands up with too much force. “He’s my boyfriend, and I’m taking his dumb ass to the hospital,” she snarls and stomps toward the closet. “But first he has to wait for me to find my stupid purse.”
She storms to her feet and yanks open the nearest closet door, but instead of coats inside, it’s that damn school.
Also, the eye is floating in a solo cup of beer. Nice.
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peckenpaugh2020-06-01 11:18 am
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
That beer was gross, and now she's going to have a headache later. Audrey resists the urge to sink on to the floor in defeat only because the floor is so sticky. From where she stands, she throws the ball back to the cup in front of Ms. Altizer. Surely the truth must still lie in the pong.
Or making out with Jupiter, who can say, that's as good an idea as any.
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
A cardboard sledder careens down the stairs at a disastrous angle and slams into the tower of beer cans. The tower crumbles, cans scatter, and partygoers throw themselves out of his way. One slams into the blonde, who stumbles forward into Alva’s chair at the exact wrong moment, and he faceplants right on the floor.
Well, almost on the floor. It’s a long second before Nes notices the dumb plastic horn with a splintered mouthpiece jabbed right into his eye.
“Shit, Alva!” Nes spits out and drops to the ground by his side. Someone’s already on the phone, calling for an ambulance in rapid Russian. “Shit, fuck, Alva, your eye, Laveau’s la—”
Nes stops, midsentence, and quirks her head. She can see the person on the phone from here; a petite blonde girl with a whole lotta boobs. And if no one here understands Russian, don’t worry. Nes sure as hell does.
Her tone changes abruptly, and she looks down at Alva as he yanks the vuvuzela from his eye. “Did she just call you her boyfriend?”
Alva pauses. Potentially considers stabbing the horn back on his face before letting go. It clatters to the floor. Everything stops again, a sheepish smile frozen on his face.
MEMORY: Party Games
"Hellooooooo? Any kissers? Hay besadores?"
MEMORY: Party Games
Juicy.
Literally, actually, there is blood and eye juice just everywhere, and Audrey looks a little sick, a little pale. She turns away from that and on a whim, steals the blonde girl's phone. Is she even calling an ambulance? And it could restart the memory they have to pick up the next piece in this strange Rube Goldberg machine of an evening.
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
She picks up the vuvuzela and tries to pry the eyeball off the end to throw it at the beer pong cups.
MEMORY: Party Games
"I'm not drinking that."
She murmurs as the eye flies through the air, before even seeing if it lands in some beer.
MEMORY: Party Games
But when Jupiter grabs the vuvuzela and pops that eye off the end, things start up. God, was it really the eye thing? It was the eye pong, wasn't it?
“I mean… you kinda did break up with me.” Alva’s smile turns into more of a grimace, and he tries to back away from Nes’ grasp.
“To study abroad, Alva,” the not-even-slightly-sympathetic Clytemnestra answers. “You’re supposed to pine for me, jackass.”
“I did! I am!” Alva pulls himself up to a sitting position and clamps a hand on his injured eye. “I’m also in need of medi—”
“Uh-uh, you are not getting out of this so easily. So did you just pick the girl with the biggest boobs at the portkey hub and ask her to be your girlfriend, or do you two have a special con—”
“C’mon, you know you’re the one been flirting with some Perfect Human Specimen all night!”
“Because you weren’t paying attention to me.”
“Um, excuse me, uh.” The petite blonde—Alva’s apparent girlfriend edges up to the pair, twisting her hands together fretfully. “I do think we need to be going to, uh, hospital?”
Nes stands up with too much force. “He’s my boyfriend, and I’m taking his dumb ass to the hospital,” she snarls and stomps toward the closet. “But first he has to wait for me to find my stupid purse.”
She storms to her feet and yanks open the nearest closet door, but instead of coats inside, it’s that damn school.
Also, the eye is floating in a solo cup of beer. Nice.
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
She sounds a touch disappointed.