The Halls of Fandom High - Before Lunch
Victor headed toward the cafeteria, glad that he'd been able to knock another person off his list and hoping that he'd be able to see all his friends in one place today. If not, he'd probably have to hold a mini-party or something to get them all together.
Suddenly, something small smacked him in the forehad, and he went flying backward. He managed to keep his head up so it didn't bash into the ground, but the rest of him hit the tile floor with a thump. "What the fuck?" he mumbled, and looked around for who had thrown something at him.
But there was no one else in the hall.
"Huh?" Victor wondered, and tried to get up. He stopped, however, when he finally noticed a strange pressure on his forehead. At first, he thought it was just a reaction to being smacked in the head, but then he noticed that the pressure was...writing? He put his hand to his head, and was surprised to find something small and thin moving along it. Quickly, he grabbed it, and his eyes bugged when he saw a red crayon wriggling in his hand.
Then, the announcements came on, and he finally understood. "Oh, so you're the angry little crayon. What did you-OW!" Victor dropped the crayon as a sharp pain pierced his hand. "Did you just fucking bite me?" But the crayon didn't respond. Instead, it bounced off quickly, looking for its next victim.
"Fuck" Victor muttered, and rubbed his hand. There was a definite bite mark, and a little bit of blood, so he went to the bathroom to go wash his hand. When he was at the sink, though, he finally saw in the mirror what the crayon had written. "Needs Improvement? Well, ain't that fucking ironic?" he grumbled as he washed his hand, and he rubbed some water on the crayon to try to wash it off.
But it wouldn't come off.
"What?" He tried scrubbing harder, but still no change. Paper towels didn't help, either. "So what am I supposed to do, just leave it there all day?" He glared at his reflection, then brightened as he got an idea. He focused, and soon his skin blended the writing away. He grinned, then dried his hands and held a paper towel over the bite to stop the bleeding until he could get to the doctor's office. As he headed back down the hall, he kept an eye out for the magical crayon, but it looked as if it'd run off to go choose a new victim.
He kind of hoped it was Anakin.
Suddenly, something small smacked him in the forehad, and he went flying backward. He managed to keep his head up so it didn't bash into the ground, but the rest of him hit the tile floor with a thump. "What the fuck?" he mumbled, and looked around for who had thrown something at him.
But there was no one else in the hall.
"Huh?" Victor wondered, and tried to get up. He stopped, however, when he finally noticed a strange pressure on his forehead. At first, he thought it was just a reaction to being smacked in the head, but then he noticed that the pressure was...writing? He put his hand to his head, and was surprised to find something small and thin moving along it. Quickly, he grabbed it, and his eyes bugged when he saw a red crayon wriggling in his hand.
Then, the announcements came on, and he finally understood. "Oh, so you're the angry little crayon. What did you-OW!" Victor dropped the crayon as a sharp pain pierced his hand. "Did you just fucking bite me?" But the crayon didn't respond. Instead, it bounced off quickly, looking for its next victim.
"Fuck" Victor muttered, and rubbed his hand. There was a definite bite mark, and a little bit of blood, so he went to the bathroom to go wash his hand. When he was at the sink, though, he finally saw in the mirror what the crayon had written. "Needs Improvement? Well, ain't that fucking ironic?" he grumbled as he washed his hand, and he rubbed some water on the crayon to try to wash it off.
But it wouldn't come off.
"What?" He tried scrubbing harder, but still no change. Paper towels didn't help, either. "So what am I supposed to do, just leave it there all day?" He glared at his reflection, then brightened as he got an idea. He focused, and soon his skin blended the writing away. He grinned, then dried his hands and held a paper towel over the bite to stop the bleeding until he could get to the doctor's office. As he headed back down the hall, he kept an eye out for the magical crayon, but it looked as if it'd run off to go choose a new victim.
He kind of hoped it was Anakin.