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Part 10: If you play with that you'll go blind by Mamfa Rich took a deep breath. Here was his chance to prove to the other two that he was not a cowardly piece of chicken s--- after all. "Could too!" he said. There was a pause. Wendy stared at him for a bit. That something in her eyes glinted a little more. "Okay then� Richard." Rich blinked. "Huh?" "I know that I'm just a silly girl, and you're a" heavy breath "man now. You must have far more important things to do than to bother with me." Rich's expression grew a little frantic. "What?" Wendy approached him slowly, eyes downcast, shoulders BACK. About as far back as shoulders go. "You know� Richard� I've always been fascinated by the way you deceive the others. You're like� some incredible undercover spy�" By this time, Rich had his back against the wall, and was undergoing a religious conversion. Well, it sounded a lot like praying. Wendy put her arms around his neck. "Richard� Richard, I know it's wrong, but here's how I feel for you, with all my heart!" With that, she promptly kneed him in the family jewels and bashed his head against the wall. Rich's last thought before he slid into puzzled insensibility was, "Hey?!" Wendy grinned, checked her strategically parted hair (to cover the effects of the nair) and made her way forwards. Paul snorted. "Wow Paul! Where'd you learn to do that so well?" warbled Tim. "I can't do that�" He attempted a couple of times and ended up spitting it out. If you couldn't tell, our lads were utterly and totally wrecked. Tim was experimenting with the little white pills, and had achieved cosmic harmony, universal tolerance and understanding, goodwill and euphoria, and a colossal hard-on. Paul had demolished the supplies of rough white powder at an alarming rate and with worrying efficiency. He was now reaching a state usually acquired by little old bald guys on mountain-tops who chant all day long in crazed optimism. Neither were in an appropriate state to deal with what was closing in on them. Tim stood up and launched into song. "Australians are all drunken farts.." Paul slurred, "Cos we are pissed as newts!" "We bonk a sheila upside down, Until that sheila toots! We pour the JD down our throats And stumble out the door, An' when the boy scouts come to town We bonk 'em till they roar! With can of VIC and erect dick, Advance Australia Fair!" Tim flourished his arms and hopped from leg to leg. The echo resounded throughout the almost deserted quadrangle. "That was great!" "ShuthefuccccckkupTimm," burbled Paul, who slid down off the seat. "Ow!" "Wha'?" "Li'l Paulie got squadesh� shhqudashed.. shhhqu- hurt." "Wha'?" Paul rolled his eyes. And grimaced as he rearranged his lock'n'talls. Li'l Paulie was not having a good week. Tim noticed this and attempted a sensual stance, and then collapsed. He giggled, as he hit the ground. "Lucky I didn't hurt m'self� ground was in the way�" "Dickhead." "Yodelleyhihooooooo!" Tim listened theatrically for the echo. Oooh, ooh, ooh. "Hellooooooooooooooooo!" Oh, oh oh, came echoing back. "Richard!" A (predictable) pause. There was the sound of applause. Tim naturally attempted to see who was admiring him. Paul gave a growl. "Delicious. Absolutely marvellous. I couldn't have planned it better myself." Paul sat up. "f--- off Wendy. Don't you have pimples to squeeze?" Wendy put her hands on her hips and surveyed that pair of chemically induced morons, and the open lunchbox. And raised her eyebrows at Tim's enormous franger. "Is that an obelisk in your pocket or�" "We're never happy to see you," cut in Paul. She blew him a mock kiss and winked at him. "Well, in your case, you shouldn't pass up any opportunity. God knows they'd be rare enough." Paul was too smashed to think of a response. But he flourished an impressive salute. With one finger. Tim's neurons kicked into life under the heavy blanket of illegal substance. "Heyy� Umm, where's Rich?" "Hmm?" "Rich!" Wendy's face was far too smug for comfort, decided Paul. It grew even more smug when the sounds of swearing became apparent from the shelter shed. "Oh�" The sounds grew closer. "�" Then Rich stumbled towards them with a lump on his head and fear in his eyes. "The me-� the me- � the me," he managed. "Come on Richie! Spit it out!" encouraged Tim. But Rich was already running. Two seconds and the amalgamated effects of fear, dread, terror and imminent pain led Tim to stumble after him. He was actually finding it rather hard to run with a sugar banana, and so he was able to witness Paul scrabbling at the ground and blathering in frustration. "Come on Paul! Paul mate! Hurry up! What are you waiting for!" Tim called. "The lunchbox!" "The lunchbox? Are you crazy? You're gonna get thrashed and all you can think about is drugs?" Tim reviewed that sentence in his mind for a bit. "Okay, you have a point, but hurry!" Paul stumbled away with it tucked under his arm. Wendy watched them go and laughed softly. Rich ran. And ran and ran. Humiliation was stamped all over his face. His one big chance of proving himself, and he f---ed it up. He choked a sob. Not only that, but his mum was gonna BUTCHER him for running out on detention. He sighed. Life sucks when you're the sucker. Paul and Tim stumbled through the school gates. Paul was clutching the lunchbox like it was his ticket to salvation. Tim was attempting to walk behind Paul in order to hide the effects of the vi- via-vigrari- drugs. And due to his height, it resulted in the little feller getting picked up by the crotch, as if by some phallic crane. Neither were looking forward to detention tomorrow. And neither were looking forward to finding Rich's house again. |
