jfdodgington
"At last! The new edition!"
Professor Edenballs frantically tore at the plastic wrapping of the newly arrived textbook. The words 'How To Get a Hot Date Despite Having a Crudely Inappropriate Name and Salivary Control Issues, 4th Ed.' was scrawled across the cover in the tasteful Helvetica-Courier Hybrid typeface combination. A viscous gob of excitation-stimulated saliva hung precariously from the professor's lower lip. Edenballs thoughtlessly swept it away with the already dampened sleeve of his over-sized lab coat.
"The world is my oyster!"
*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP*
She woke up groggy and dry-mouthed. A slowly accelerating whirl of images from the night before fell through her mind as she tried to open her eyes. All of them were of a common tack: bright, white smiles, low-cut shirts, and rocks-glasses to spare. She sat up, brushing them aside and stumbled to the bathroom. The fluorescent light above the mirror did nothing to soften the bags under her eyes or the blotches on her skin. She sighed.
It was a good night!
Sorry, I got distracted by that "m-my melt?" Subway commercial. "Practical."
He drove the spike into the ground with a fateful, forceful, final push. But the ground didn't shake, and the sky didn't split.
His heart sank in his chest and he let out a tired breath.
The objects clattered against the hardwood as they rolled from the old man's hand. They dully reflected the light cast from the overhead, fluorescent light as they slowed in their travel across the length of my desk. Railroad ties.
"What am I supposed to do with these?" I asked.
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