I know something is wrong, I just don't know what to do...
Gosh, what a Hunk.
P.S. I've gone mostly "Friends Only" in the last year or so. Add me, and I'll add you right back. I promise.
So there's this girl named Emily in my Lit class, and she's just always drinking Pepsi. Day in, and day out, she's got a can of Pepsi in her hand. Although I'm definitely more of a Diet Coke guy myself, I'm an addict just the same, so I don't look down on her because of this habit. Anyway, she seems like a pretty nice girl, and we always kill time in class by making goofy jokes to each other. Still though, for whatever reason, she's just always drinking a can of Pepsi, or more specifically, a limited edition 4th of July Pepsi. No big deal on the holiday theme can either, I've just always assumed she had a massive supply of old Pepsi laying around her apartment, dormitory, or home. Maybe her Grandma came to town and brought along 4,000 cans of Pepsi, who knows.
Well, as I recently sat bored in class, watching her sip her sticky brown liquid, a suspicion began formulating in my head. It seemed pretty insane, almost absurd, but I just could not rid my mind of this sneaking suspicion. Looking for evidence to support my, I carefully observed her drinking habits over the course of three or four classes. Eventually, I developed a startling, almost horrifying theory: Could she possibly be bringing the exact same can to class each and every day??
Once this theory was planted firmly in my mind, I knew I couldn't rest until I solved the puzzle once and for all. After a little bit of solitude and concentration, I formulated a plan. Before class, I headed to Walgreens, picked up a black Sharpie, and tucked it into my left pants pocket. It felt kind of good, so I pulled out the pen and tried it again. Well, maybe I didn't, but I couldn't pass up the chance to overuse the italics button even more than I already do.
As I entered the classroom, without even making a split-second of eye contact, I took a seat directly beside this girl. I tried my absolute hardest to act all calm and cool. You know, friendly hellos, trivial smalltalk, maybe a few cool head nods. I can be cool. I really can. Watch this: "Hey there baby. I hear your Mom's got a van." Uncanny, eh?
For the next 48 minutes, my teacher droned on incessantly for what truly seemed like days. I honestly wasn't paying much attention though. Instead, I carefully watched Pepsi girl out of the corner of my eye and waited for my opening. All I needed was one quick diversion, or even a momentary lapse of concentration on her end, to shamelessly exploit the situation at hand.
At roughly 5:38, it happened. She laid her head down on her desk for a brief moment. I couldn't tell if it was truly a full nap, or maybe just a quick rest, so I knew I had to move in very, very swiftly. Quickling uncapping my permanent marker, I leaned waaaay over her, nearly on top of the poor girl. Once there, I placed a tiny, inconspicuos black dot on the rim of the suspicious can.
As I was pulling out (ha), her head shot straight up and she looked directly at me. She gave me a look as if to say, "I know you're up to something... I just don't know what." I gave her a look all, "You're pretty, but I'm on to your game Missy." She shot back a look all, "What is wrong with you?" I returned a sly, casual look, as if to say, "Hello Mrs. Kettle, where's your friend the POT."
I exited class as soon as we were dismissed, excited about what was to come in 48 short hours. I knew a simple peek at the top of her can come Wednesday would either prove my theory correct, or send it crashing to the ground. I was optimisitc, but honestly only half-confident in what the result would be.
What if she saw the dot?
It was small, but I definitely could have made it smaller.
If she were to catch wind of my suspicions, she could easily aquire a new can. Worse yet, she might even drop the class. That wouldn't be good. I like sitting next to her. Her hair smells really good. Like an orchid. Or is it an orchard? I can't remember which word is correct. I'll leave it up to you to guess what her hair really smells like.
Anyway, after alot of tossing and turning the night before, the big day finally arrived. I gathered my books, grabbed a quick coffee drink on my way to class, and patiently waited by the side door of the classroom. Everyone always comes in through the main door, so I figured I could post up by the side door, staking out the classroom from its tiny window. When she came into the classroom, I could immediately swoop in and take the seat beside her. The last thing I needed was for her to sit down somewhere out of the ordinary. I needed my view.
As I was looking through the tiny window, I felt a tiny finger poke me on the shoulder.
"What the hell are you doing Ken? You're so silly."
I didn't even need to turn around to see who it was, as the smell of her hair completely gave it away. I quickly came up with a cover story about "avoiding Clark," even though I know absolutely no one named Clark, nor was there one in the class. Surprisingly, she bought it.
She grabbed me by the arm and pulled me into the room, all "Come on silly, we're gonna be late."
We were cutting it close on time, and my normal seat had already been taken by an annoying girl partial to Bob Marley, dirty clothes, and the "Rastafarian Lifestyle." I borrowed a pencil from her at the very beginning of the semester, and I swear I left class high.
Anyway, Emily continued pulling me by the arm towards two seats near the front of the room. They weren't perfect, but they were the only two seats left in the room that were even remotely close to each other. They were both in the same row, so I had the option of sitting either directly behind her, or directly in front of her. Seeing as though I had forgotten to bring my complicated mirror mechanism and advanced pulley system with me to class, I knew the seat behind her would probably be much more to my advantage. Unfortunately, this thought process takes time, and by the time I finally decided which seat I wanted, she was already sitting in the one behind me.
I tried my hardest to pay attention in class, but my teacher talks so damn low that it's nearly impossible. If I had no shame, I'd be all, "WHAT??!?" about five trillion times each class. I do have shame though, so I instead listened intently for the tell-tale clink of wooden desk and beverage can.
At the 9:00 minute mark, I heard said clink.
I still had horrible positioning though, so time and time again, I'd tried to discretely turn my body around towards Pepsi Girl to catch a glimpse of the can. Each time I'd turn completely around, she'd smile, and say, "Hi Kenny." Honestly, I kind of liked it, and as strange as her beverage habits were, I was actually beginning to warm to her a little bit.
Extreme emphasis on little bit.
I still had a mission to accomplish, and what kind of man would I be if I let a sweet, pretty smile and INCREDIBLY nice smelling hair prevent me from completing my objective. I kept strong, but I still didn't know the best way to see the can. It was directly, squarely behind me, and nothing short of standing up would have allowed me to see the top of the can.
Finally, I decided to do something drastic.
I retreated to the restroom.
I try hard to drink 8 glasses a day, but I honestly didn't really have to go.
I did know though that upon re-entering the classroom, I'd have an absolutely perfect chance to look down at the can before turning and re-desking myself. So, I took a deep breath, washed my hands good, and marched back towards the classroom.
I entered quietly, stopping only to make sure the door didn't slam shut. Then, I eyed my target, collected myself, and walked back towards my seat.
As I re-entered my row, I saw Emily's smiling face welcoming me back to Desk 3. I smiled back, walked towards her, and QUICKLY glanced at the can.
THIS, friends, is what I saw:
My deepest, darkest suspicions were immediately confirmed. This seemingly normal, pretty girl had been, for the entire semester, bringing in the EXACT same can of Pepsi every single day and drinking from it. She always finished it during class though, and she always brought it back full.
I started thinking of reasons that would possibly explain this behavior, but each reason brought with it many more questions than answers. She definitely isn't poor. The Express wardrobe and Vatton purses give it away. She definitely isn't an alcoholic, as she claimed early n the year that she didn't like drinking. I've seen her in the bookstore purchasing Scantrons, so I know she has change readily available to use for the Pepsi machine right outside of the classroom.
I just don't get it.
In the least bit.
I'm stumped.
Like a stump.
And now I'm late.
Hope everyone's having a good day.
- Kenny