I have four minutes before my class starts. My body begs for caffeine. I decide to part with money. Four people ahead of me, I pay no attention to them and try to buy my tea. I’m no mood to talk even though they seem interested in conversation. It strains my face when ever I have to put on the extra cheery mask. Maybe they won’t notice me.
“HELLO!! WHAT’S UP?”
No such luck.
“Um, Nothing Much.”
Time to put on the mask; it would have been so much easier if I had split personality syndrome. Come to think of it people are always telling me that I’m a different person online. Sort of like a lounge lizard that preys on unsuspecting women, my lounge being msn and the hotel room is orkut.
“DID YOU HEAR WHAT I JUST SAID??”
The shrieking figure in front of me just spat tea on my white shirt while screeching.
“Sorry I was just thinking about something I got a huge report to do. Oops I got a class have to go bye.”
I’m out of breath.
I get to the class and the instructor marks me absent because my name has already been called out. I slump onto a seat. Six minutes into the class and I’m looking at this fat man’s mannequin who is opening and closing his mouth and I can’t hear a word he’s saying. The volume has been turned down. In space time continuum they say that time does not exist, I’m here 50 miles away from humanity in a place where people are asking themselves the same questions Plato was asking when he got home to his wife.
“Why am I here?”
“….. if sufficient twist is applied to a yarn it is called optimum….”
This dude here has been teaching the same course for 7 years and he says the exact same thing to every class he teaches. I know this because Ali knows this. But more on that dude later.
I get up with the sea.
I find a marker and start making doodles on the bench in front.
“Freedom is slavery”
“Life is Death”
“Brad Pitt is Gay” I know he isn’t but I still hate him.
“You do realize you’re destroying college property.”
I look up and see a mug shot. The dude could have been a thug if he wanted to; he’s got it all the build the drive the ambition the walk the talk….
“So have you done Nana’s assignment?”
“No not yet.”
Yet here he is asking me about an assignment that has no actual purpose or place in the real world and he’s showing concern.
Saad was a big kid living in the toughest part of town. He made it a point that he was not to be threatened by anyone or anything, that worked given his physique. One problem, his Mom. A true Stalin if there ever was. She made him go to school and ensured that he got the best grades. Her favorite weapon when he was disobedient was a large bunch of keys, right on the noggin! Given the fact he’s not retarded and except for the occasional fit, he’s a pretty nice guy.
“So you wanna go to the cafÃ© and make fun of chicks? I heard that there is a crier in the new batch!”
Girls hate him though. I don’t blame them, yet I really don’t feel sorry for them. Why should I they just don’t give a chance to a guy like him. They don’t have the fortitude to find out what kind of guy he is? So I guess the only way to get back at them is to make em cry.
We’re walking towards the cafÃ© and I spy the shirker, I shrink in to the background and hide behind Saad’s moving figure. Like a Predator on the prowl, hunting for the game, he moves graceful. This is going to be better than a National Geographic special. He spots his prey and the hunt is on.