((Phillip Olivares continued from I Voted!))
Phillip was going to die.
This wasn't just some grand cosmic truth of the universe, either. This wasn't the everyone's-gonna-die-so-chop-up-your-neighbor-with-a-hatchet stuff ICP rapped about. This was the sort of imminent doom that could only stem from a single cause:
In one hour and twenty-seven minutes, his math final was slated to begin.
Phillip was in the cafeteria, his textbook open in front of him, his bag of snacks next to him, his head propped in his hands. It was not yet officially lunchtime; he had finished Ms. Prescott's exam early, and had then been released, all the better to enjoy his last moments prior to his his impending execution at the hands of Dr. Terrance. While the textbook suggested that he would rail futilely against his fate, that was far from a forgone conclusion. Might it not be better to enjoy these last few moments, before he consigned himself to the doom that was summer school even after graduation?
It wasn't fair. This right here was the sort of thing that made people go postal, flip out and go on apeshit rampages drawing mustaches on every single face on every single mural in the school or whatever. You weren't supposed to have to do actual work senior year. Hell, some of Phillip's classes were just watching movies. He'd take a movie, even a shitty one, over a math final any day. Couldn't Dr. Terrance say, hey, surprise, we're watching Battleship instead? That felt like a pretty generous compromise to Phillip, like it wasn't every day he'd even willingly admit knowledge of a Battleship movie, but it was about grids and letters and numbers and shit, which made it technically mathematical, right? Come on.
He let out a low groan, slumped forward, failed to find anything cathartic in the motion, and so lifted himself back up a few inches and slumped forward again, clonking his elbows on the table, making it scoot forward with a scraping groan and causing his paper bag to jump a half inch to the side, and drawing a glare from one of the lunch ladies. He widened his eyes and mouthed an apology at her; she shook her head at him and looked away.
He stared at the pages of the math textbook. Even the words were starting to look like incomprehensible equations totaling nothing but his doom. There had to be a better use of his time. He'd get into the zone instead. He didn't need to know the material; he could just center himself and blaze through that Scantron on the power of faith and intuition. All it'd take would be a clear mind. That was the ticket. Yeah. He definitely wasn't just scrambling desperately for an excuse to procrastinate just a moment longer.
At least the lunch room was filling up, as the others finished their various tests and filtered in. Phillip looked around, letting the siren song of false hope fill his soul. Maybe he could find someone in an earlier period of Terrance's, to give him the scoop on this exam. Maybe he was working himself up over nothing and it'd be a total breeze. Wouldn't that be a riot? All this worry, just for it to be a joke?
Ah, who was he kidding?
We Who Are About To Die
Lunch during finals. Open to everyone AS LONG AS THEY ARE DEAD IN THE CURRENT TIMELINE. If you are not yet dead you can join after you die.
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MurderWeasel
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- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Math sucked. That was a mostly-universally-agreed-upon fact, right? Like except for nerds, who liked math for some reason. Dante thought nerds who liked math were kinda cool actually in a weird way cause they were good at a thing other people hated and that was like pretty wild of them and stuff? Did it sound like he was being an asshole by calling them nerds? He meant it in a sorta endearing kind of way. His math tutor was a nerd and she was cool. Actually it sounded worse when he put it like that? Like oh I know a nerd it's okay? That was bad, right?
He was beginning to get a headache and he wasn't even actually thinking about the math yet! That was a bad sign. Food would help. Conveniently it was lunchtime, which was the time to eat food and not get in trouble for it like he did every time he forgot he wasn't technically allowed to eat in class like he did all the time anyway. He'd gotten his Spanish final out of the way, that had gone... okayish. Relatively okayish? Spanish was basically just Italian but different, right? Sure he had to bullshit a couple of words but probably if he was in Spain and he was like "dove está el bagno" they'd basically get it? Right? So that was probably worth like a C. Good enough for him.
Normally he'd be looking for Aurelien right about now but he knew full well he had his hands full studying for his history final and it wasn't like he was gonna be any help with that. Probably that same logic should've kept him from plopping himself right next to Phillip when he was obviously studying but like, at least they were studying the same subject? Common ground and all that.
Not that he was gonna be of any help or anything. Just looking at the math textbook was making his headache worse.
"Yo," he offered, sympathetically, if you could be sympathetic with one word. "You, uh, want a torcetto?"
He was beginning to get a headache and he wasn't even actually thinking about the math yet! That was a bad sign. Food would help. Conveniently it was lunchtime, which was the time to eat food and not get in trouble for it like he did every time he forgot he wasn't technically allowed to eat in class like he did all the time anyway. He'd gotten his Spanish final out of the way, that had gone... okayish. Relatively okayish? Spanish was basically just Italian but different, right? Sure he had to bullshit a couple of words but probably if he was in Spain and he was like "dove está el bagno" they'd basically get it? Right? So that was probably worth like a C. Good enough for him.
Normally he'd be looking for Aurelien right about now but he knew full well he had his hands full studying for his history final and it wasn't like he was gonna be any help with that. Probably that same logic should've kept him from plopping himself right next to Phillip when he was obviously studying but like, at least they were studying the same subject? Common ground and all that.
Not that he was gonna be of any help or anything. Just looking at the math textbook was making his headache worse.
"Yo," he offered, sympathetically, if you could be sympathetic with one word. "You, uh, want a torcetto?"
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
"That depends," Phillip said. Dante had just gone and plopped down right next to him. Dante was in math too so at least they were in the same boat, but Phillip was pretty sure Dante was totally not one of those kids who actually willingly raised their hands to answer Dr. Terrance's questions and then had those answers turn out correct, which meant the final destination of their little tunnel of love joyride was still the electric chair. But you know what? It was true, misery did love company. Dante, whether he intended it or not, had just volunteered to be co-sufferer, distraction, and sympathetic ear all in one.
"Like, I mean," Phillip continued, "is it poisoned? Like laced with arsenic or some shit? Because if it is, count me in."
Maybe that wasn't the best thing to be saying really loud in the middle of the lunchroom when there wasn't yet a big enough crowd of people to drown out everything that slipped its way out of his mouth. It was a total injustice that you couldn't joke about some things, especially offing yourself like a secret agent caught in the highest security Soviet mainframe just to get out of taking a math final, but the powers that be could be a little touchy about that sort of thing, even if it didn't hold a candle to screaming about bombs or whatever.
"I mean," Phillip said, lowering his voice and looking around shifty-like, "sure, thanks."
He opened his own paper lunch bag and looked at what he had inside, which was nowhere near as nice as whatever Dante had he assumed (he couldn't say for sure what a "torcetto" was but it sounded fancy and this being Dante was presumably Italian and it being referred to in the singular meant it probably wasn't pasta meant in turn it probably was a pastry; see there Phillip went applying the skills he gleaned from the classes he was actually good at), but was still pretty alright. He had three whole apples, and two granola bars, because his mom hadn't gone shopping in a bit and some coworker of hers had brought apples from her garden to share, way too many apples, so it was apples until they ran out.
"Want an apple?" Phillip asked, pulling one out and holding it up. It was a pretty nice-looking apple for homegrown, if he did say so; shiny and mottled red and green, with no unsightly lumps or wormy bits at all.
"Like, I mean," Phillip continued, "is it poisoned? Like laced with arsenic or some shit? Because if it is, count me in."
Maybe that wasn't the best thing to be saying really loud in the middle of the lunchroom when there wasn't yet a big enough crowd of people to drown out everything that slipped its way out of his mouth. It was a total injustice that you couldn't joke about some things, especially offing yourself like a secret agent caught in the highest security Soviet mainframe just to get out of taking a math final, but the powers that be could be a little touchy about that sort of thing, even if it didn't hold a candle to screaming about bombs or whatever.
"I mean," Phillip said, lowering his voice and looking around shifty-like, "sure, thanks."
He opened his own paper lunch bag and looked at what he had inside, which was nowhere near as nice as whatever Dante had he assumed (he couldn't say for sure what a "torcetto" was but it sounded fancy and this being Dante was presumably Italian and it being referred to in the singular meant it probably wasn't pasta meant in turn it probably was a pastry; see there Phillip went applying the skills he gleaned from the classes he was actually good at), but was still pretty alright. He had three whole apples, and two granola bars, because his mom hadn't gone shopping in a bit and some coworker of hers had brought apples from her garden to share, way too many apples, so it was apples until they ran out.
"Want an apple?" Phillip asked, pulling one out and holding it up. It was a pretty nice-looking apple for homegrown, if he did say so; shiny and mottled red and green, with no unsightly lumps or wormy bits at all.
((Arjen Kramer, Pregame: START))
What. What?
What was Arjen witnessing? Arjen was observing the dorks from a table afar and it felt bizarre. Maybe it was due to the distance and maybe he missed some details, but did they offer each other food? What was this all about? Arjen had seen some Magic bartering before, but bartering food items seemed like a new kind of low.
I give you my apple! My mum gave me this apple but it's too much for me~ Please I give you my spare apple~
Maybe just eat your goddamn apple yourself instead, Olivares, it's healthy. It's good for your brain and you need that energy for the exam. About the exam - Olivares had openly expressed his frustration and looked desperately into the math book minutes before as if that helped anyone. Everyone knew the brain can't learn anything right before an exam. You had to learn it the day before so the content of the book could be processed by your brain during your sleep phases. So Olivares was just wasting his time looking into the book. He should eat an apple instead.
Unless...
Did Olivares manage to magically implant a cheat sheet into the apple for Dante so that that dumbass could pass the exam?
Was Arjen spectating a drug deal except instead of drugs it was the math formulas hidden inside an apple? That would be exciting, but seemed very unlikely.
Arjen continued watching this suspicious scenery. Maybe he could report it to a teacher if there was some kind of cheat sheet involved, though. Arjen chewed on the peanut butter sandwich he brought from home.
Fucking dorks.
What. What?
What was Arjen witnessing? Arjen was observing the dorks from a table afar and it felt bizarre. Maybe it was due to the distance and maybe he missed some details, but did they offer each other food? What was this all about? Arjen had seen some Magic bartering before, but bartering food items seemed like a new kind of low.
I give you my apple! My mum gave me this apple but it's too much for me~ Please I give you my spare apple~
Maybe just eat your goddamn apple yourself instead, Olivares, it's healthy. It's good for your brain and you need that energy for the exam. About the exam - Olivares had openly expressed his frustration and looked desperately into the math book minutes before as if that helped anyone. Everyone knew the brain can't learn anything right before an exam. You had to learn it the day before so the content of the book could be processed by your brain during your sleep phases. So Olivares was just wasting his time looking into the book. He should eat an apple instead.
Unless...
Did Olivares manage to magically implant a cheat sheet into the apple for Dante so that that dumbass could pass the exam?
Was Arjen spectating a drug deal except instead of drugs it was the math formulas hidden inside an apple? That would be exciting, but seemed very unlikely.
Arjen continued watching this suspicious scenery. Maybe he could report it to a teacher if there was some kind of cheat sheet involved, though. Arjen chewed on the peanut butter sandwich he brought from home.
Fucking dorks.