Post by Cindy Vortex on Oct 2, 2005 22:19:56 GMT -5
Chemistry had been an outrageous affair.
It hadn’t really been chemistry, actually; it had been a chance meeting with a tiny freshman girl in the halls on a trip to the bathroom, more to skip the horrendously long and painful description of the lab Cindy knew she’d understand whether or not Mr. Billus explained it. It was more productive to “freshen up”. (This boyfriend thing really had had a larger effect than one would have thoughts, hadn’t it?)
Unfortunately, said freshman girl had been rushing back to her beginning pottery class, carrying an oversized bucket of white paint. The consequences had been terribly and entirely inevitable.
Cindy had rounded the corner at a brisk pace, with only about five minutes left in the period (and only five minutes until lunch, fortunately), chin tipped confidently one of her very common postures. The freshman had been jogging along, eyes wide as she hoped she could a) remember where her class was and b) deliver the paint to the pottery teacher on time. As could have been expected, a catastrophic collision had ensued.
Thus, Cindy Vortex was covered, shoulders down, in the entire bucket’s content of paint. She had been far too mortified to say anything in response to the girl’s squeaky “I’m sorry”, but instead had dashed back to the bathroom, only to come face-to-face with a ruined black blouse and pink skirt. A few nasty cuss words later, here she was, lunch hour not ten seconds away, settled under a tree in front of the school. A sour, angry look seemed to have found a permanant home on her face and she gazed at the world bitterly through narrowed eyes.
She was certain the entire chemistry class must have seen the entire thing, or at least the aftermath, but she'd only taken a fleeting look at a few laughing faces before turning tail.
Lord help the first person to annoy the karate black belt today.
{ o o c : Poor Cindy. *evil smirk* I love doing this sort of thing... }
It hadn’t really been chemistry, actually; it had been a chance meeting with a tiny freshman girl in the halls on a trip to the bathroom, more to skip the horrendously long and painful description of the lab Cindy knew she’d understand whether or not Mr. Billus explained it. It was more productive to “freshen up”. (This boyfriend thing really had had a larger effect than one would have thoughts, hadn’t it?)
Unfortunately, said freshman girl had been rushing back to her beginning pottery class, carrying an oversized bucket of white paint. The consequences had been terribly and entirely inevitable.
Cindy had rounded the corner at a brisk pace, with only about five minutes left in the period (and only five minutes until lunch, fortunately), chin tipped confidently one of her very common postures. The freshman had been jogging along, eyes wide as she hoped she could a) remember where her class was and b) deliver the paint to the pottery teacher on time. As could have been expected, a catastrophic collision had ensued.
Thus, Cindy Vortex was covered, shoulders down, in the entire bucket’s content of paint. She had been far too mortified to say anything in response to the girl’s squeaky “I’m sorry”, but instead had dashed back to the bathroom, only to come face-to-face with a ruined black blouse and pink skirt. A few nasty cuss words later, here she was, lunch hour not ten seconds away, settled under a tree in front of the school. A sour, angry look seemed to have found a permanant home on her face and she gazed at the world bitterly through narrowed eyes.
She was certain the entire chemistry class must have seen the entire thing, or at least the aftermath, but she'd only taken a fleeting look at a few laughing faces before turning tail.
Lord help the first person to annoy the karate black belt today.
{ o o c : Poor Cindy. *evil smirk* I love doing this sort of thing... }
")