Thursday, June 5, 2008

In Session

an original sketch by Merkin Muffley

As he entered the building he looked at his watch to confirm the feeling that he was late—“Shit.” He rushed up the staircase, taking two at a time, and turned down the hall with a killer’s sense of determination. Luckily, students were still gathered outside the classroom. He walked swiftly toward the doorway, and without bothering to greet or acknowledge any of his classmates, he burst into the room and sat down hurriedly. Perspiration had gathered on his brow, and, with a sigh mixed with relief and profound anticipation, he wiped it off. His classmates soon filed in behind him, articulating their uncool thoughts, as his eyes drifted from the large rectangular table before him to the loveseat in the corner. The window invited his gaze and his peers melted out of sight and out of mind…

He was in the same room. Everything was more or less the same, but he was now alone, and everything was his own. He moved out of his chair and glided over to the loveseat in one fluid motion. It was as sumptuous as before, but was now adorned in electric blue suede and fit for a sultan’s harem. He settled down in comfort and then heard heels sounding on the tiled floor in the hall.

He knew that it must be a hot bitch.

Seconds passed and the sound became increasingly distinct. He thought that they might continue by the door, and they did, but they then stopped abruptly. The heels turned and the accumulation of small bits of dirt on the tile floor produced a raspy utterance from beneath the leather of her soles. A hot bitch in heels presented herself in the doorway, arms akimbo. She flipped her hair and opened her lips as if she were about to speak, but he put his index finger to his own, “Shh…” The hot bitch acceded to his gesture, and responded with one of her own, biting her finger as she fixed her eyes down to the right. So coy.

“I’ve been expecting you,” he said.

The hot bitch started from her carefully constructed pose, and once again opened her lips to speak.

“I…” she started but was again stopped with a gesture.

“You are so fucking hot. You are one hot bitch,” he uttered under his breath as he rose from the loveseat.

Some music cued in, actually just a sick drum groove, and a dark pair of shades suddenly found themselves affixed to his face. No surprise. He tried to tilt them down, but they wouldn’t budge (“that’s right, that’s never a good move”). He approached the hot bitch slowly but deliberately, and once she was in his realm, he took her delicately by the waist and dipped her like a Salsa dancer. He whispered in to her ear, “will you do my homework?”

“Yes! Yes!” replied the hot bitch.

1 comment:

Madame Lamb said...

can this be weekly?

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