Status: Possible epilogue... but probably not.
Foster's School for the Socially Awkward and Normality Challenged
Red Stuff
“Get him, Simba! Go! Go!” It was all part of keeping Alexia awake. We’d blasted through all the comedies Ceecee and David had and moved onto Disney movies.
“I’m going to go pass out somewhere.” I mumbled, trying to leave.
“Oh, no no no. You’re part of the reason I have this concussion. It was your sorry ass we were saving. You’re going to stay up with me and watch Simba cream Scar.”
“I’m tired though… and you had coffee.”
“Not my fault you’re a caffeine virgin, we’ve still got 10 hours to go!”
“C’mon Evan, let’s play a game.” Greg suggested, his pink cast resting on my shoulder.
“Games with you people usually end up with someone drunk or bruised.”
“That’s what makes it fun, babe.”
“I will not be fucking left out of this.” Alexia added, getting up off the couch and pausing the movie.
“This game’s called crime scene. Hey, Dante! Want to judge this?”
“Yeah, sure. I don’t have to touch anyone, right?”
“Nah, just say who you think did it best.”
“Greg, you never actually told us what we’re supposed to be doing…”
“Oh yeah, basically, we each get a pack of candy plasma, and then we try and make the most convincing death possible. We should do it in the kitchen just because Ceecee would strangle us if we got that stuff on the couch.” We shuffled into the kitchen, having Lauren, the small child, supply us with blood before she went back to what I think was an undead tea party.
“Alright, are we ready?” Dante asked, sitting on the counter, holding up a napkin as a flag. We nodded, hands poised to tear open the packages.
“Go!”
I sprawled out on the floor, making a stroke of plasma across my neck, then pooling next to it on the right side, before adding more blood on specifically the right. Jack the Ripper style. I did a project on him in the fourth grade, shocking both my teacher and fellow classmates, which was about the time I realized that some of the things I enjoyed weren’t socially accepted. Alexia gave herself a Chelsea smile, along with trailing it down the center of her body, stopping at about the center of her stomach. Greg just went with random patterns.
“Wow… um, I’m going to call this a tie. You guys all look dead.” Dante said, peering over at us.
“That’s what we were aiming for, so I guess that’s good enough.”
“Evan, you got a little-” Greg said, gesturing to his nose. Not thinking, I swiped my hand at it, leaving behind a red trail. Irritated, I smeared more on his forehead. Alexia joined in by clapping candy covered hands on both of our backs. It turned into an all out fight, mixing real blood with candy blood, but none of us cared. We walked off to the bathrooms laughing and licking anything red off of our fingers and arms.
“I’m going to go pass out somewhere.” I mumbled, trying to leave.
“Oh, no no no. You’re part of the reason I have this concussion. It was your sorry ass we were saving. You’re going to stay up with me and watch Simba cream Scar.”
“I’m tired though… and you had coffee.”
“Not my fault you’re a caffeine virgin, we’ve still got 10 hours to go!”
“C’mon Evan, let’s play a game.” Greg suggested, his pink cast resting on my shoulder.
“Games with you people usually end up with someone drunk or bruised.”
“That’s what makes it fun, babe.”
“I will not be fucking left out of this.” Alexia added, getting up off the couch and pausing the movie.
“This game’s called crime scene. Hey, Dante! Want to judge this?”
“Yeah, sure. I don’t have to touch anyone, right?”
“Nah, just say who you think did it best.”
“Greg, you never actually told us what we’re supposed to be doing…”
“Oh yeah, basically, we each get a pack of candy plasma, and then we try and make the most convincing death possible. We should do it in the kitchen just because Ceecee would strangle us if we got that stuff on the couch.” We shuffled into the kitchen, having Lauren, the small child, supply us with blood before she went back to what I think was an undead tea party.
“Alright, are we ready?” Dante asked, sitting on the counter, holding up a napkin as a flag. We nodded, hands poised to tear open the packages.
“Go!”
I sprawled out on the floor, making a stroke of plasma across my neck, then pooling next to it on the right side, before adding more blood on specifically the right. Jack the Ripper style. I did a project on him in the fourth grade, shocking both my teacher and fellow classmates, which was about the time I realized that some of the things I enjoyed weren’t socially accepted. Alexia gave herself a Chelsea smile, along with trailing it down the center of her body, stopping at about the center of her stomach. Greg just went with random patterns.
“Wow… um, I’m going to call this a tie. You guys all look dead.” Dante said, peering over at us.
“That’s what we were aiming for, so I guess that’s good enough.”
“Evan, you got a little-” Greg said, gesturing to his nose. Not thinking, I swiped my hand at it, leaving behind a red trail. Irritated, I smeared more on his forehead. Alexia joined in by clapping candy covered hands on both of our backs. It turned into an all out fight, mixing real blood with candy blood, but none of us cared. We walked off to the bathrooms laughing and licking anything red off of our fingers and arms.
♠ ♠ ♠
4 chapters left.