mllelaurel

I got dumped by Tommy Tam the night before my midterm project in Biology of the Sexes with Betsy Sherman (colloquially known as ‘Sex with Betsy,’) was due. Though, to be fair, I did a fair bit of dumping myself, namely a cup of milk on his head. I’d sniffed it to make sure it had gone bad, first. No sense in wasting perfectly good milk, especially after I’d wasted four perfectly good months of her life on a deadbeat boyfriend, who’d finally resorted to accusing me of cheating on him with my roommate. Lacey, at least, had been amused.

Needless to say, my desire to attend class at fuck o’clock in the morning was severely diminished, no matter how entertaining the class was. Tommy was in that class, too, and we used to carry on a witty repartee from the back. “I’m going to have to find a new place to sit, if only to avoid drama.”

“If he’s going to be a drama whore, let him, Lacey retorted from behind a ten-foot poster with a far-too-damn-cheerful nude couple drawn on it. “Take that seat and claim it in the name of Wendy.”

“Can I claim it in the name of just not giving a shit anymore?”

“Sure, but only if you make a little flag with a poo pile on it to demarcate it. Ooh! You could demarcate Tommy Tam with it. Why does he compel one to call him both names, anyway? It’s unnatural and annoying.”

“I don’t know, but I bet Dr. Barbara Thornfield, MD, PhD would.” I’d never actually met Lacey’s mom, but at this point, I think I had a fairly extensive portrait of her character.

Lacey’s grin was a bit lopsided. “I bet we could sic her on him. He’d never recover. If he could even figure out what she was saying, what with her using words longer than one syllable that aren’t names of ska bands.”

“Now that’s just mean.” Funny, true, but mean.

“That’s me, the Countess of Mean. My sharp tongue makes men run in fear.” Coming from Lacey, biggest flirt this side of Kilpatrick, this was less than convincing. “Now… Jesus, it’s one in the morning. Go to sleep. You’ve got a class tomorrow – you crazy, crazy woman.”

Anything that made Lacey get up before noon was deemed spawn of Beelzebub.

I don’t remember going to sleep, or, to be honest, much about class, but when I got back, there was a copy of some Italian movie on my desk, with a note pinned to it.

Hey, Dub-Dub, it said.

Look what I found in the sale bin in Hanaford? I know I’m normally against violence, but it’s healthy to release aggression at a stressful time, so here you go. Have some zombies. Going by the blurb on the back, they probably deserve whatever’s coming to them.”

- Lacey

I looked at the DVD. Isle of the Flesh Eaters. Huh. Could be interesting.

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