Dorm Room Blues

Oh sweet lord, I thought, as I turned yet another page in the endless abyss that was my economics book.  This never ends...

I folded my arms over the open book and threw my forehead down on top of them. I'm going to fail... Oh, I'm SO going to fail this...

I was in my dorm room, trying to prepare for an exam that was looming in my near future; tomorrow at 10 am, to be exact, but I just could not stand to read one more paragraph — one more word — about international trade or export subsidies or consumer surpluses.  Whoever invented the concept of going to university, getting a bachelor's degree and having a reasonably well-off life was a giant a-hole.

I raised my head, and peered around my little room.  Mercifully, my roommate was out, probably getting tipsy at the campus bar.  That's where she could usually be found, anyway, even at one in the afternoon.

With a sudden burst of inspiration and, possibly, a psychological melt-down, I grabbed the Evil Book, tucked it under my arm, and wrenched my dorm room door open.  I scurried down the hall and stood at the elevator, rocking on my feet impatiently.  The doors finally ping-ed open and I practically jumped in.  There was already somebody in there, heading down.  I recognized him as one of the guys who lived in a dorm a couple of floors up.  We had seen each other at a few parties over the last two semesters.

"Hey," He offers,

"Hi,"  I didn't say anything else for fear I might fall victim of my dreadful affliction. 

My affliction, you ask?  Oh well, ever since I was just a girl in junior high, with braces and pimples and very chubby cheeks to boot, I had made a complete and utter fool of myself when around any members of the opposite sex. (This affliction excluded only my Father and my great uncle Les... what can a girl do?)

Anyway, I kept quiet in the elevator and, luckily, he did too.  We finally ping-ed to a stop on the first floor: The Commons.  This floor was usually the life of the dorm building; it had the kitchen, a TV room (with an unbelievably small number of couches considering the number of students living here), a games room, computer room, etc., etc. 

Today, however, the Commons was empty.  Everyone was out celebrating the end of exams while I was stuck in an economic hell, still having one exam left.  The guy that kept me company in the elevator (I shall call him Cute-bum) started walking towards the main doors.  Once I was assured he was going in the opposite direction, I scampered off to the kitchen, the Evil Book still tucked firmly beneath my arm.  I quickly walked over to the stove and, in a matter of seconds, had the oven door wrenched open wide enough for me to fling the Evil Book inside and shut it violently again, as if the book was ready to jump back out at me.

I whirled around, completely pleased with my plan and delighted that I executed it so well.  Oh... Cute-bum was standing in the frame of the door, looking at me with a quizzical stare; I could tell he was amused by what he saw.

"I... um, the Evil book... well, I thought you had gon— oh,... frick."  I stormed past him and made my way to the elevator, an extreme blush creeping up my neck and onto my cheeks and forehead.  I punched the 'up' button so hard, I thought I may have sprained my finger. Why don't you take a little longer, Elevator? Please, extend my misery has much as possible, thank you. I could feel Cute-bum's eyes boring a hole in my back.

Yup, stairs it is.

The End

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