The bed is in shambles, pillows thrown to and fro, sheets strewn about, tangled, and soaking in sweat and other, more illicit substances, Lying in the middle of the aftermath is the young supple form of Stats Final, body in the fetal position, still spasming from the aftershocks of pleasure. I am putting my clothes on, not looking at her. She slowly raises her head," Why won't you stay just a while longer?"
My reply is harsh and avoidant, "I told you once already. I have places I need to be."
There is a pause, the complete silence of the inevitable. Stats sits up, tiredly bracing herself on her arms. She bites her lip with trepidation, but the question naws at her. As I put my shirt on, the suspense reaches a critical level. Timidly she asks,"When we made love just now... why didn't you make eye contact once with me?"
I don't answer, I am coldly searching for my belt.
"Ian... why didn't you-"
"I heard what you said damnit!", an inappropriate outburst. My apathy is palpable.
"Please... answer my question..." I let out a sigh of exasperation.
"Please..." she's pleading with those doe eyes of hers. I have the last of my things, what difference would an answer make now? I turn and face her, starring daggers. "It's because we're through, Stats. It's over."
Taken aback she stammers,"B-but why?"
Cooly I respond,"I'm just through with you, tired of you. You aren't signficant enough to me to keep around. I'm sick of all your tests and assumptions. In other words, I'm rejecting you Ho."
The shock hits her like an artic blast. I turn on my heel and promptly walk out. In the distance I hear muffled sobbing.
I DIDN'T JUST DO THAT FINAL, I FUCKED THE LIVING HELL OUT OF IT!!!
Two down, two to go. You better stock up on lube Urban Sociology and Psychopathology and Behavior Change, I'm comin' for ya.
(PS: I wanted to make a normal curve joke but I couldn't squeeze it in. Maybe something about the area under her curves? Seems forced.)
Update: I ran into my Stats teacher in the gym today and he informed me that not only did I get the highest score in the class on my final but I also got 100%. Oh special ending for full completion bitches. Not that I imagine you care though.
My reply is harsh and avoidant, "I told you once already. I have places I need to be."
There is a pause, the complete silence of the inevitable. Stats sits up, tiredly bracing herself on her arms. She bites her lip with trepidation, but the question naws at her. As I put my shirt on, the suspense reaches a critical level. Timidly she asks,"When we made love just now... why didn't you make eye contact once with me?"
I don't answer, I am coldly searching for my belt.
"Ian... why didn't you-"
"I heard what you said damnit!", an inappropriate outburst. My apathy is palpable.
"Please... answer my question..." I let out a sigh of exasperation.
"Please..." she's pleading with those doe eyes of hers. I have the last of my things, what difference would an answer make now? I turn and face her, starring daggers. "It's because we're through, Stats. It's over."
Taken aback she stammers,"B-but why?"
Cooly I respond,"I'm just through with you, tired of you. You aren't signficant enough to me to keep around. I'm sick of all your tests and assumptions. In other words, I'm rejecting you Ho."
The shock hits her like an artic blast. I turn on my heel and promptly walk out. In the distance I hear muffled sobbing.
I DIDN'T JUST DO THAT FINAL, I FUCKED THE LIVING HELL OUT OF IT!!!
Two down, two to go. You better stock up on lube Urban Sociology and Psychopathology and Behavior Change, I'm comin' for ya.
(PS: I wanted to make a normal curve joke but I couldn't squeeze it in. Maybe something about the area under her curves? Seems forced.)
Update: I ran into my Stats teacher in the gym today and he informed me that not only did I get the highest score in the class on my final but I also got 100%. Oh special ending for full completion bitches. Not that I imagine you care though.
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MEEP!