"Damn," he thought. He was sitting in his dorm room, thinking about how he dreamed that the Conference Assistant position at Seattle University would be sweet. And it was, seeing as how he didn't have to completely vacate the building for the summer, like most of his friends. He liked the thought of meeting interesting people from different places (and yet had rejected the idea of becoming a flight attendant for the summer....)
However, having heard the news that yet another teen tour group (also commonly referred to as "Roving Bands of Anke-Biting, Hall-Blocking, Noise-Disturbance-Causing Inconsiderate Rich White Bastard Children Suffering From ADD, Apparently") would be staying on his floor, he thought, "Damn."
He soon realized that it wasn't all that bad, though. He remembered his favorite group, the Clarionites. They were a group of science-ficiton/fantasy writers, from what he understood. They had been staying on the twelfth floor of his building for 5 weeks. He had grown to love them from the distance he was required to keep because of the circumstances, his job, and other various inhibitions.
One more week before they leave. Damn. They had become a fixture in this building! The only summer guests who were somewhat constant. They went grocery shopping for heavensake. He admired them for their senses of humor, their cohesiveness as a group, their intelligence. It was practically CBS's "Big Brother." How he wished he could be one of them. And that they could stay forever, reading about Grignr in a circle in someone's room all night long....
He had tried to keep up with their online journals, he popped up to say hello from time to time, and hoped that they liked him as much as he enjoyed their company, their presence. He knew it was selfish of him to want them stay... after all, they all had their personal lives to get back to. He hoped that they enjoyed their last week, at least, and that they would keep in touch.
He remembered those damned children he would be babysitting the next night, and decided to get some sleep in advance. On his way to bed, he thought to himself, "Damn." |
