Coping

You okay?
-I’m alive.
Not really the same thing.
-It’s as close as I’m going to get right now.
All right. I’ll check on you later. I have to go to class.
-Let me know what color tie Professor Blankenship is wearing today. These details are all I have to live for.
Don’t joke.
-Humor is a coping mechanism.
A poor one.
-It seems to be working just fine on this end. I haven’t thought about the fact that I’m now an only child for a full four seconds…oh wait.
Are you going to be okay for a couple hours?
-Yes. I hear that there’s an entire blog called Justin Timberlake Doing Things. I intend to check out every scintillating photo.
I’ll be back in a bit, dear.
-I’ll be here.

Maroon with bits of mustard yellow and a coffee stain.
-That man really needs to find a good drycleaner.
And a stylist.
-Well, maybe if you would finally give in to his untoward advances, you could be the next Mrs. Professor Blankenship and then you can pick out his ties like a good little wifey.
You’re depraved.
-I’ve been told. Hey, bring me some ice cream, will ya? I’m watching Willy Wonka without junk food and I feel naked.
Yes, your highness. Your Mocha Madness is on its way. Shall I invest in some rainbow sprinkles as well?
-Only if you want to remain in my good graces.
I’d hate to see what your bad graces look like.
-They’re pretty much the same, except I wouldn’t let you borrow my Supernatural dvds.
Sprinkles. Got it.
-Posthaste, Sprinkle Wench.

On a scale of grumpy cat to an angry toddler, how much do you not want to go to class today?
-Full-on “terrible twos” era temper tantrum.
Tough shit. You can’t make up this exam. Besides, it’ll be nice to have someone to appreciate the doodles I make on the side of my Scantron.
-Ah yes, I do enjoy your doodles. So let’s place our bets now.
My money’s on olive green with the lavender flowers that actually look like eyeballs.
-Please. It’s going to be the navy blue with lime green dachshunds. That’s his “hey guys, sorry I have to give you this mind-fuck of an exam, but look my tie is really cool” tie.
Shit. You’re right. Too late to retract my bet?
-The bookie has left the building. Sorry, friend. Better luck next time. You’re going down and all it’ll cost you is one night of cookie baking and a Mulan sing-along.
Oh, brother. You know, one of these days, you’re going to lose and I will get my revenge.
-I’ll die before I watch Glee with you again. Death is the much more favorable alternative to hours of terrible pop covers that can’t even get the lyrics right. Have they never heard of Google?!
Glad to see your coping mechanism is still alive and kicking.
-What is life without repression of deeply depressive thoughts and impulses?