Shut Up And Listen 202

Heavy Morals Feel So Light

Today, I am twenty-two and in honour of that, I am phoning this column in. Here's a short prose piece I wrote back in September for your entertainment. It's entitled "Heavy Morals Feel So Light".

Steve lit the joint and took a hit. He coughed slightly and passed it to Chris, who did likewise. Their dorm room was filthy, littered with pizza boxes, pop cans, chip bags, clothes, magazines, books, CDs, DVDs, shoes, and various other items of little or no importance to anyone, not even them. Steve sat on the floor and was wondering what to do later that evening. Chris sat atop some clothes on the couch and was contemplating the significance of Homer's donut-shaped universe theory from that one episode of The Simpsons.

"I think it might work," he said.

Steve laughed. "What might work?"

"The donut-shaped universe."

"Oh. Yeah." Laugh. "Definitely."
Laugh. "Shut up, man." Chris got up, stepping over Steve and went into his room, taking the joint with him. He took a few more hits and set it aside, sitting at his desk. He needed focus for he had a paper to write. He knew he had a paper to write, but for what class? He knew it wasn't poli-sci `cause he did that last week and it's not English `cause that's due next week. That left psychology, film, and calculus. Probably wasn't calculus. He checked his day-planner, because he'd written down all his due dates at the beginning of the year to avoid bullshit like this.

The first due date not crossed out was for the next day and was for psychology. His paper on Freud. He chose Freud `cause it seemed like an easy paper. Tons of books on the guy. Basic stuff. Of course, everyone else thought the same thing and when he went to the library for books sometime in the week before, there weren't any left. At least none with "Freud" in the title.

He was left then with the internet as his only source. No problem, he thought. Everything's online now. Even schoolwork. And porn.

He searched for porn for a while and found it and he masturbated to it. He wished he had a girlfriend, but . . . no, that's not right. He just wished he had a girl to fuck. That's what he wanted: a girl to fuck, but hey, that's life.

He took another hit from the joint and said, "Fuck it" and just bought a paper from some online site. A site that sells custom papers. Just tell them the topic, the year or level expected, pay them fifty bucks, and they'll e-mail you an .rtf file within twenty-four hours. The paper was due in slightly less than twenty-four hours. He had until midnight of the day it was due to hand it in.

There was a knock on his door. "What?"

"Wanna go get some food, man?" the voice on the other side said.

Chris stood, opened the door, saw Steve standing there, shrugged, and said, "Yeah. Sure. Where?"

Steve blinked a few times and said, "Dunno. Where do you wanna go?"

"I could go for a burger."

"Nah. Had that for lunch."

"So?"

"Good point."

"Yeah."

"But I don't want one."

"Then what do you want?"

"I dunno."

"Subs?"

"Cool."

"Let's go."

"Yeah."

"Disco."

* * *

"This beer tastes like shit," Chris spat and then took another drink.

Will shrugged, mumbled something unintelligible, and then walked away, becoming one with the sea of people in the bar. Chris felt a slight chill in the bar and wanted to leave, but also didn't want to leave without hooking up.

He looked around the room, but the combination of dim lighting and cheep booze made it hard to spot anyone. At least anyone worth wasting time with.

He took another drink of the beer that tasted like shit and Will returned, still mumbling unintelligible words. "What was that?" Chris asked, half interested.

Will looked at him for a moment, a slight glaze on his eyes and then said, "I said `This music sucks and so does the selection of pussy.' Why?"

Chris nodded. "I hear that. But what else is there?"

Will nodded. "Shit. Yeah."

A girl in tight jeans and a tighter shirt brushed up against Chris as she asked the bartender for some drink whose name he couldn't hear. She was okay looking.

Chris smiled at her and said hey. She smiled back and said hey back. He asked for her name and she said something like Laura that could have also been Lauren, Lorna, Laurie/Lorrie, or maybe just some other name that wasn't anything like Laura. He didn't care really.

Her boyfriend came up to the bar and this caused Chris to quickly move somewhere else. No need to deal with that bullshit, he thought.

At the other end of the bar, he got another beer, and ended up sitting at a table with some biology students from third year. They did shots of something that he couldn't recognise for a while and then he ended up back in some girl's room.

"What are you taking?" she asked him, while he looked through her CD collection. Mostly pop shit.

Without looking up, he said, "Just arts right now. Probably English or maybe film. I dunno."

The voice said, "That's cool. You like it?"

She actually owned a Britney Spears album. Who the fuck owns a Britney Spears album? "Sure. I guess. I dunno." He paused, turned, saw her sitting on her bed, and then asked, "Do you like . . . what was it? Chemistry?"

"Biology," she sighed. "And yeah. It's okay. What I want to do is cancer research and . . ." she continued on, but he didn't listen. Dookie by Green Day was in the collection. Only decent thing she had, so he put it on. He'd never had sex to Green Day before.

". . . says that I might really have a future in it, so he's letting me work with him over the summer." She looked at Chris, waiting for his approval in a way. He nodded and told her that's cool. She smiled.

She was actually kind of pretty. Asian of some sort. He couldn't tell which kind of Asian though. Didn't matter really. Asian chicks are fucking hot, he thought as he moved towards the bed. Only downside is small tits really.

They made out for a bit on the bed and she tasted like the shots they had been doing at the bar. It was not a good taste. Chris tried his best to move beyond kissing to avoid it. Sex was secondary to avoiding the taste of shitty booze.

She broke the kiss and said, "I . . . I don't want to do this."

Chris just looked at her in disbelief. "What?"

She pushed him away and sat up. "I don't want to do this. You know?"

He sat there for a moment and then got off the bed. "Yeah. I know."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well . . . yeah."

She sighed, "I have a boyfriend."

"So?"

"So, I don't want to do this."

Chris rolled his eyes, grabbed his jacket, said, "Yeah," and left the apartment.

The elevator was slow and smelled like piss. Outside, Chris didn't even know where the fuck he was. How did he get there? What part of town was he in? How was he going to get back to campus?

He wandered around for a while before he remembered his cell phone in his jacket pocket. He called his room, hoping Steve was there, but there was no answer. He tried a few others and got nothing. It was three in the morning or so and he had no idea what he was going to do.

He looked through his wallet and found a taxi card his mom had gotten him. He called the number and gave the corner he was standing at. Fifteen minutes later, a cab arrived and took him back to campus. It took less than five minutes. Wasn't that far apparently. The driver thought he an idiot, but wrote it off to drunkenness.

Steve was asleep on the floor of the room and Chris tried very hard not to kick him even though it seemed like a very good idea.

He fell asleep quickly after hitting the bed. He didn't even bother to get undressed.

* * *

After class, Chris and Jessica got some lunch at the food court in the Warhol Building. He got a burger, onion rings, and a coke. She got a bagel with cream cheese and an ice tea. He paid for it all.

They sat down at a table for four, diagonal from one another. He set his bag on the seat beside him and began eating his onion rings rapidly.

She smiled and laughed, "Hungry?"

He merely shrugged and continued to eat his rings. Jessica was in his English class and they've spent most of the semester flirting from time to time. The previous week, he finally asked her out because of boredom.

"What do you want to do tonight?" she asked.

With his mouth full, he replied, "Fuck if I know."

She frowned. "That's what you always say."

He rolled his eyes and said slowly, "That's because that's the truth. Fuck if I know."

She remained silent after that and he was glad. Damn bitch never shuts up, he thought as he swallowed the last of the onion rings. He opened up his burger and began devouring it after taking a big drink from his pop.

The food court was crowded and sitting at the table behind Jessica was a really hot girl, wearing barely a shirt, and she was looking right at Chris. This made him a little self-conscious, but she kept looking at him and smiled several times.

Jessica began talking again and it was giving him a headache. The other girl got up and left, and quickly, Chris interrupted Jessica saying, "Yeah, I've gotta take a piss" and left the table.

He caught up to the other girl outside of the food court with a witty, "Hey!"

She turned and said, "Yes?"

He decided to just go for it. "I couldn't help but notice that you were looking in my general direction for a while back there."

"You were right across from me," she said flatly.

"So, you weren't . . ." He was embarrassed.

"No. I wasn't," she said and walked away.

Chris went back to the table and sat back down and listened to Jessica prattle on while taking occasional sips from his pop.

* * *

Jessica never came, but that didn't bother Chris. Why would it?

He was putting on his pants when she rolled over and asked, "Where are you going?"

He grunted in response.

She asked again and he said, "I've got a film paper due tomorrow. A scene analysis essay. I've gotta work on it."

She groaned and said, "Fuck the paper."

He just wanted out of there. "I've got to do it. I need a good grade on this on. At least a seventy."

She sighed.

There was only one way out. "I don't think this is going to work," he said.

"What? What do you mean?" she asked sharply.

"We're too different," he said with a fake sincerity. A tone that gave the sense that this was difficult for him.

She pressed him, "What do you mean?"

"We're just too different," he shook his head as he put on his coat.

"But what do you mean?" she asked insistently.

He left saying, "Later."

The walk back to his dorm was kind of long. Jessica's residence was on the other side of the campus, but for some reason, Chris enjoyed the fresh air. It was crisp and slightly chilly. The moon was almost full and bright. Leaves covered the sidewalk and crunched underfoot. The campus was emptier than usual and that added to the beauty.

The film paper had been due two days before, but he hadn't done it yet. It was a scene analysis of a scene from The Cabinet Of Dr. Calligari, a German silent film that Chris tried his best not to fall asleep during. He couldn't see the point of it. In tutorial, he had said, "It's like we watched it just because it's old, not because it's good."

The TA, man in some graduate program had frowned and said, "Why do you think that?"

Chris had shrugged and said, "Because the movie sucked. The story was lame, the whole arty style of the sets and costumes just made me roll my eyes, and it was boring."

"Oh," the TA said.

Chris thought about that and smiled as he passed the Warhol Building. The TA had had no comeback and that made Chris smile.

There was a group of people Chris knew going into the building. One of them spotted him and broke away, to meet him.

"Hey," Will said.

"Hey," Chris replied. "What's going on?"

"Gonna see a movie."

"What movie?"

"Dunno. Whatever's playing."

"Cool."

"You in?"

Chris thought about it for a moment. "Yeah. Sure."

Chris and Will entered the Warhol Building, went to the second floor, paid the $4.25 for a ticket to see the movie and then joined the rest in the darkened theatre.

After the movie, they all went to The Hip, the bar/restaurant on the first floor of the Warhol Building. The Hip wasn't that crowded, which was cool.

Chris got himself a beer and sat with the others. "Sunshine Of Your Love" by Cream was on the stereo. It was a regular weeknight, so none of that dance stuff, just bar music. Music for atmosphere. Will drummed the air in time with the drummer.

The others all looked at him.

"I love this song," he said.

One of them rolled his eyes and said, "My dad listens to this shit."

Will narrowed his eyes and said, "This is Cream, man."

The guy shrugged, saying, "So?"

Will relaxed and smiled. "So, I like the song is all. It's fucking good."

One of the others piped in, "Wasn't this the song they played on that episode of Freaks And Geeks? Where that guy tries out for the band and is rejected and then the chick kisses him because she feels sorry for him?"

A couple of the others nodded their heads in recognition. The song changed to something Chris didn't recognise. He got up and got himself another beer. The Hip was amazingly absent of women. Or at least, women to be chatted up and then fucked. Too bad, Chris thought.

At that moment, of course, Jessica and a friend came in. Chris decided to just go with it, and smiled, lifted his beer in a mock toast and drank a bit.

Jessica and the friend left, so he smiled and returned to the table, feeling pretty good.

One of them said, "This place is fucking dead."

Chris nodded and replied, "It's a Tuesday. What do you expect?"

The guy shrugged and said, "A chick or two. At least."

Chris nodded again. "I hear that."

Will interjected, "I thought you were seeing that girl from your English class. Y'know?"

"Yeah. Not anymore, man," Chris said both flatly and warmly.

"What happened? She dump you for a guy who actually has a dick?" Will laughed.

Chris smiled. "Nah, she caught me in bed with your mom and your sister."

That shut Will up and everyone laughed. Chris felt proud and took another drink. It was actually starting to taste good to him. They all told him it would eventually and maybe it was beginning to. He'd finally drank enough beer to like it.

Part of him regretted throwing away Jessica like that. She was willing to do almost anything and wasn't that annoying. Was a little needy emotionally though. The question was: which side outweighed the other? Was he hasty in dumping her just because he wanted to leave her room right then? She didn't even make him go down on her.

"Nothing I can do about it now," he mumbled and took another drink.

* * *

Back in his hometown, he was attending his grandparents' fiftieth wedding anniversary party. Of sorts.

Chris sat in the church next to his mom and felt rather cold. What was it about churches that made them freezing in the winter and boiling in the summer? Couldn't they get adequate heating/cooling systems? No wonder people never go to church.

They were sitting in the sixth pew back: him, his mom, his sister and his father. His grandparents were in the front row, his aunt a couple behind that, and his aunt and uncle in the one in front of them. His uncle, the priest was at the front, performing the mass.

Chris scowled and shivered. He had better places to be. Especially since he had gotten the distinct impression that they wanted him to bring up the offering with his sister. Fuck that, he thought. And fuck them if they think I'm actually going to do it.

He stood with the rest of them for the gospel reading. He didn't participate though. He could barely remember all the inane rituals of the mass it had been so long since he last attended one. He just listened to his uncle read from Matthew or one of the others about how Jesus demanded everyone give up everything to follow him.

He sat down with the rest of them and ignored his uncle's sermon about his grandparents. He stared at the back of the head of his uncle's former secretary, now friend, who sat next to his aunt. His uncle the priest fucked her, obviously, and even fathered her child. She was married with three other kids. No one spoke about it, except for his immediate family, but only in private, at home.

When he was younger, he had a crush on the eldest daughter of that family. She was a few years younger than him. He saw her recently and she wore too much make-up and acted like an idiot. He'd still fuck her though. He thought about fucking her in the church's bathroom even though she wasn't there. About taking her from behind and roughly squeezing her tits through her bra as he pushed his hands up her sweatshirt.

They all stood again for some reason. They began chanting in unison and one line caught Chris' attention: "he descended to the dead". He being Jesus. What did they mean descended? Does that mean Jesus went to Hell in between being crucified and coming back to life? He whispered the question to his mom, but she just stared at him like he was insane.

He wished he'd brought some pot with him. He looked behind him. All old people. No chicks, he thought. God, what a fucking waste of a Sunday.

His sister began to laugh softly when the other priest spoke. He had an accent and for some reason, this made her laugh. Chris didn't get why it was so funny. He didn't go up for communion. He had given that up long ago. He just sat with his mom, a Presbyterian. His father and sister went up. She went up because she was hungry she claimed.

After the mass, they all went down into the hall for the party part of the party. If it could be called that.

His aunt told him to open the wine. He had never done that before, but it wasn't too hard. Just twist the corkscrew into the cork and then push down. Easy. The difficult part was getting the cork off of the corkscrew as it was slippery with wine. His hands were sticky after it and that bothered him. He quickly went to the bathroom and washed his hands. He considered leaving and taking a taxi home.

He went back out and got some punch. It was horrible. Normally, he liked the pink punch at things like this, but obviously these morons didn't know how to make something so simple. He drank it anyways.

He sat down at a table with his uncle, his wife, his mom and his sister, who was up pouring punch.

They all agreed the punch was shit. They just sat there and watched as the dying flooded the room. He watched as his sister poured punch for them.

"Why don't you help her?" his mom asked.

Chris replied, "Because I think better of people. I assume they're not too stupid to know how to operate a ladle. And frankly, if they are, then they should be put down for the good of society." His mom was not amused.

He saw his godfather and his family enter. His daughter was wearing a baggy red sweatshirt and tight black pants. He hadn't seen her in years. She was younger than him by a few years. She was kind of attractive in that not attractive kind of way. Too much make-up though. Young enough to still be trying to appear older.

His godfather came over and talked to his uncle. He hadn't seen his godfather in years either. He seemed like a nice enough guy. Funny too. His sister sat down beside him.

He got up and poured some wine into his cup. It tasted like shit and he dumped what was left of it into the punch. Then he noticed that the wine cooler in the plastic jug was the exact same colour as the punch. Eight seconds later, the punch was spiked.

He went back to the table and told his sister what he had done. She laughed. They watched then as old people kept coming up to the table and asked if it was non-alcoholic. Funny shit. No one noticed the difference somehow. No one had seen him do it. He smiled to himself as he watched it happen.

There were little plastic bags at every place-setting and his sister opened hers out of curiosity. Inside, was a heart-shaped candle. She sighed and said, "What the hell?" Chris shrugged and gave her his. She opened it and it was a little baby-faced angel candle. "This looks scary," she said. It was gold with black spots. Christ smiled at it.

Their uncle, the priest got up at the front and called for everyone's attention. "On behalf of myself, my brothers, and my sister, Mary, the organiser, the dominatrix, if you will, of all of that, I'd like to--"

"Did he just call Mary a dominatrix?" Chris asked. His sister began to laugh. "What the fuck? That is the damn strangest thing I've ever heard."

His sister made the whipped sound.

"Bizarre," Chris said softly.

Everyone got up and helped themselves to the buffet. Except for Chris. Nothing that interested him was available. He couldn't stand most cold-cuts or "salads". That didn't leave much else. Instead, he got up and poured some wine into the punch and then stirred.

He sat there and watched everyone. Most of them were related to him somehow, but he didn't know or care how. Who gives a fuck about the extended family tree? Most people can barely stand their immediate family, let alone the rest of the assholes that can trace back their lineage to that moment when the two of you split, when your great-great-great-great-great-great-grandparents had two kids. Fuck that.

He noticed two young girls who did not look at all alike wearing the same black and pink dress. They were obviously sisters, but looked nothing like twins; probably the non-identical kind. Kind of young for him, but cute. Were they related in some way? Images of a threesome in the bathroom entered his mind. Fucking one while eating out the other in some slightly uncomfortable and awkward position inside the larger, handicap stall.

He sighed and tried not to fall asleep.

Maybe after the "party" was over, he'd go to Harvey's and get a Big Harv. Had to eat something. His sister sat back down, her plate having just a cheese bun or two, a couple pieces of salami and not much else. The salami smelled kind of good, but getting some would involve actually getting up. Not an option.

Time dragged on and his godfather returned to their table once again and talked with his uncle and father. The punch bowl that he had spiked was being refilled. He wondered if he had had any actual effect on anyone.

"In the morning, I'm at the university and then in the afternoon I'm up at Cherryhill," his godfather said, speaking of his delivery job. "I go from one extreme to the other and I never know who to hit first." He laughed.

"Why?" his uncle asked.

"Well, the university students are so stupid they'll stop in the middle of the road to tie their shoes and the old folks are so senile, they'll stop in the middle of the road just because they think their shoes might need tying," he laughed again. Chris laughed too.

They began to clear up the food and bring out the desserts. On the far table was a big anniversary cake that looked typical and unappealing. He had been told his aunt was going for price rather than quality. Fucking typical.

They all ate their sweets, but he didn't. He continued to sit there, bored and thinking of things best not thought about in the hall of a church. Not that he cared.

He wished he had something more to drink. He asked someone by the table to pass him the water pitcher and filled up his glass. It was mostly ice though. He drank the water rapidly and then ate some ice. He enjoyed eating ice even though the extreme coldness of it bothered his teeth.

He got up and used the bathroom. He used the stall because the urinals were those little kid friendly type where anyone could walk in and basically see your dick hanging out. He hated those urinals because he didn't want anyone seeing his dick, nor did he particularly relish the idea of seeing anyone else's dick. Goddamn things.

When he came out of the stall, his uncle the priest was washing his hands at one of the sinks. Chris just washed his hands and left, not nodding or acknowledging his uncle in any way.
At the table, he just sat there and tried to will time to move forward at a more rapid pace. It seemed to do the opposite.

The twins came over to the table and asked him and his sister if they wanted to play Uno with them. They declined, although Chris' thoughts turned once again to fucking the pair. He wondered if they had much hair on their pussies or not. He had a hard time guessing their age. Maybe sixteen or seventeen. Possibly eighteen. Hard to say. He wondered if they were related to him and whether or not he should feel guilty about fantasising about them if they were . . .

They weren't even that attractive. Kind of cute, but nothing special. Only they and his godfather's daughter were close to his age in the room. Besides his sister. He couldn't even guess if they were related mostly because he didn't know who was related to him and who wasn't. Not that he cared.

Slowly, people began to leave. He smiled softly and hoped that meant they would be able to go soon. The twins left and soon after, his godfather and his family did too. He took one last look at the daughter and kind of shrugged inwardly. She was kind of cute, but needed to learn that make-up is best used in moderation. Chris liked easy girls, sure, but he'd prefer that they don't look like sluts.

When the hall was almost empty, they all began clearing the tables. His aunt told him to gather up all the punch glasses and coffee mugs. He did so swiftly and with determination. The faster the place was clean, the sooner they could leave. He saw his grandparents helping in the cleaning and thought Why are they helping? This is their party? What the fuck?

He said as much to his sister when they both sat down at a table, having nothing to do. She agreed. "If we ever do something like this for mom and dad, we're paying people to do the work," he said.

She nodded. "But we never will, will we?"

"Fuck no. This was horribly boring and depressing. Who wants that?"

"Yeah."

They sat there and waited.

Finally, their mom came over and said something about leaving. Chris stood up and said, "Alright, I know how to get us out of here. I'm going to go give grandma a hug and wish her a happy anniversary, then I'll shake grandpa's hand and wish him a happy anniversary, and then I'm out. I suggest you follow suit."

Chris then walked over to his grandma, gave her a hug, wished her a happy anniversary, shook his grandpa's hand, wished him a happy anniversary, turned and saw his mom and sister laughing. He didn't understand what was so funny.

He left the building and stood by the car. The parking lot was mostly empty. It was cold out, but his coat was undone. Not cold enough to warrant doing it up really. He liked standing there in the dusk light, breathing in the cold air with his coat open.

He watched a young couple pass the parking lot, walking down the sidewalk. He wondered briefly about their lives. Who were they? How long have they been together? Are they married? Things like that. The thoughts left his mind when his family came out and they all piled into the car.

On the radio was "Fireworks" by The Tragically Hip. He looked out the window and casually said, "Can we stop at Harvey's? I'm starving and buying for anyone who wants something." He loved the line in the song that goes "You said you didn't give a fuck about hockey and I never saw someone say that before." Something about it seemed universally true and right. He smiled and watched the snowy houses go by.

* * *

Chris and Steve laughed at the TV.

They sat in their dorm room and drank some beers. The RA was having a "visit" from her boyfriend, so wouldn't be busting them.

The Simpsons were on. The season four DVD set, disc two, the episode entitled "Itchy And Scratchy: The Movie". The plan was to watch all four discs in one sitting, having already done it with the first three seasons over the previous three days.

Chris took a drink and nearly choked on it. "Bang-Bang Bart! HAHAHAHA! That shit is great!" he laughed.

"Fuckin' a," Steve agreed.

"What's your favourite episode?"

"Stone Cutters."

"Illegal immigrants, man."

"Why's that?"

"Fucking Springfield needed an official law to deport illegal immigrants. Sums it all up."

"Yeah."

"The Stone Cutters were cool though."

"Fuckin' a."

"Captain Picard was the leader."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Cool."

"Yeah."

* * *

The prof let the class out early, so Chris and June got some coffee at Jimmy's in Wessex Building. He didn't normally drink coffee, but Jimmy's was basic.

He tried to talk to her, but he was having difficulties. She was so smart and that was out of the ordinary for him. In a way, he admired June.

After coffee, they walked around a little. The snow was melting and the trees were budding. They talked about all sorts of things. Mostly by her prompting. He told her a lot about himself. More than usual.

He told her about the time he and Billy McCain got lost in the woods by the creek. He told her about the time he got to start in a high school basketball game. He told her about the time he saw Star Wars Episode 1 on the day it opened. He told her about himself. Completely.

He found it difficult to make the transition to sex. He did make it though.

She was sluttier than he would have imagined and that was not a good thing. Too eager to go down on him. Too eager to get on top. Too eager for everything.

When it was over, he just laid there, not quite understanding what had happened.

As he dressed, he looked at her sleeping. She was naked and her left breast was exposed, not quite covered by the comforter. Once dressed, he got undressed again and got back into bed. Before falling asleep, he covered her back up.

Chris didn't sleep much that night and had really just fallen asleep when June woke him up.

"You're still here?" were the first words he heard.

She was sitting up in the bed, not pulling up the blankets to cover herself as they do in the movies. He nodded and closed his eyes again.

When he awoke again she was gone. He lied in bed for some time before getting up. He looked around the room for the first time, really. Typical room. He dressed quickly and left the room.

June was sitting on the couch in the main room, watching TV. Someone this smart watches TV? Chris thought.

She smiled and said, "Hey."

He nodded and sat down beside her.

They watched TV in silence for an hour. He finally broke the silence when he said, "Wanna get something to eat?"

"Sure," she answered.

They ordered pizza and continued to watch shitty daytime TV. Mostly talk shows. "Amazing Incest Confessions!" and "My Two-Year Old Weighs 350 Pounds!"

After the pizza was finished, they fucked again, there on the couch. Part way through, June's roommate came back home and walked in on them. Chris' mind instantly thought of one possibility.

The roommate left quickly, and that was the end of that. He didn't even cum.

"Why don't we just go into the bedroom?" he asked, hopefully.

She looked at him.

"Fine," he said.

He left, passing the roommate in the hall. She blushed and he sneered.

A few days later, he stopped by June's dorm, but she wasn't there. The roommate hit on him, so he flirted back. Soon, she was giving him a blowjob on the couch. He didn't really want to, but he was angry at June for not being around.

June walked in on them, but pretended not to notice and just walked past them. The roommate just smiled at him. After he came, he left quickly. The roommate did not swallow, he noticed.

In class the next day, Chris arrived late on purpose so he could sit next to June. She rolled her eyes at him when he sat down.

After class, they got coffee at Jimmy's again. This time, she talked and he listened.

He noticed that she didn't seem as smart as he thought she was from class. She was more vapid and ditzy. More like the rest.

Back in his room, they fucked twice after going down on one another. When he awoke the next morning, she was gone. They only saw one another in class from then on and even then, they preferred not to look at one another.

The roommate called him once or twice as the year neared completion. He went out with her a few times, mostly just for sex. She was a moaner and he liked that. He didn't care how good he was as long as they made it seem like he was good. And they always fucked at his place. If only to annoy Steve by making it hard for him to sleep.

Chris laughed at that thought one night and then fell asleep.