Hall of Infinite Doors
You decide that you're not going to seek revenge. Instead, you go to class. This semester you have marketing, French, philosophy, insurance and advanced finance.
Marketing meets in a large classroom and is mostly done lecture style. Bill, your roommate, is with you. You see a couple other friends, but elect to sit with Bill. He's a nice guy--large, dark hair and blue eyes--he brightens up any room with his contagious laugh and smile.
You sit toward the back and chill. In the middle of the dry, introductory lecture, Bill points over to a girl in the second row. She's long, sevelte and has a great figure. Her legs are incredible, and she seems to enjoy crossing and uncrossing them in her tight white mini skirt.
Your jaw drops. Both you and Bill keep an eye on her through class.
After class you prod Bill to ask her out. She is standing with a group of girlfriends on the grass outside the classroom. Bill starts his approach from twenty-five yards away. You follow at a step.
As you are approaching, you watch as some random guy walks in front of her and drops a piece of paper from his hand. It drifts and lands on her white high heels. Time slows as she bends over at the waist to pick it up. Her top is cut low enough that you can see her large, tanned boobs. It's enough to send shivers down your spine. She picks it up, glances at it and crumples it up.
Just then, the person who dropped turns and comes back to her. By now you are close enough to overhear the conversation.
"Hey, wait," he says in a squeaky voice, "that's mine."
"No," replies the girl, holding it back, "I think it's mine."
"But it's my schedule of classes," protests the geek. "If I don't have that, I won't know where I'm going."
"From the way you're dressed," chides the blonde with a slight shake, "you don't look like you know where you're going anyway."
"But it's mine!"
"I don't see your name on it." The other girls around her start to scoff at him.
"It's in the upper corner. Windel Lovell the 3rd."
"Well," says the prima donna, stuffing the crumpled paper into her purse, "I don't see it." She turns on a heel and walks away. Her girlfriends follow. In the distance you see her drop the crumpled wad into the nearest garbage can without breaking stride.
"Those Sigma Chi girls--," says Bill shaking his head. "Someone needs to teach them a lesson."
Marketing meets in a large classroom and is mostly done lecture style. Bill, your roommate, is with you. You see a couple other friends, but elect to sit with Bill. He's a nice guy--large, dark hair and blue eyes--he brightens up any room with his contagious laugh and smile.
You sit toward the back and chill. In the middle of the dry, introductory lecture, Bill points over to a girl in the second row. She's long, sevelte and has a great figure. Her legs are incredible, and she seems to enjoy crossing and uncrossing them in her tight white mini skirt.
Your jaw drops. Both you and Bill keep an eye on her through class.
After class you prod Bill to ask her out. She is standing with a group of girlfriends on the grass outside the classroom. Bill starts his approach from twenty-five yards away. You follow at a step.
As you are approaching, you watch as some random guy walks in front of her and drops a piece of paper from his hand. It drifts and lands on her white high heels. Time slows as she bends over at the waist to pick it up. Her top is cut low enough that you can see her large, tanned boobs. It's enough to send shivers down your spine. She picks it up, glances at it and crumples it up.
Just then, the person who dropped turns and comes back to her. By now you are close enough to overhear the conversation.
"Hey, wait," he says in a squeaky voice, "that's mine."
"No," replies the girl, holding it back, "I think it's mine."
"But it's my schedule of classes," protests the geek. "If I don't have that, I won't know where I'm going."
"From the way you're dressed," chides the blonde with a slight shake, "you don't look like you know where you're going anyway."
"But it's mine!"
"I don't see your name on it." The other girls around her start to scoff at him.
"It's in the upper corner. Windel Lovell the 3rd."
"Well," says the prima donna, stuffing the crumpled paper into her purse, "I don't see it." She turns on a heel and walks away. Her girlfriends follow. In the distance you see her drop the crumpled wad into the nearest garbage can without breaking stride.
"Those Sigma Chi girls--," says Bill shaking his head. "Someone needs to teach them a lesson."