Room 313, 6th Period
After Student Council, Peter made a couple handwavey NPCed brief stops in town in preparation for tomorrow. First was the renting of a tux and the buying of a corsage at Stuff for Sale which will get a comment from me if there's an afternoon post for it, then a haircut at that York place. He'd let his hair get a little too shaggy and he felt this was as good a time as any to get that taken care of.
This whole prom thing was going smoothly. Too smoothly. He had everything he needed and his girlfriend's siblings only threatened to hurt him. Peter had grown to accept that Parker Luck wasn't good luck. He was waiting for something bad.
He decided to meet fate halfway. "Okay," he said to the empty room. "I know that something weird is going to happen, you know something weird is going to happen, let's just take care of it right now. Octavius comes crashing through my window, or I'm turned into a duck, or pudding showers down on me when I say 'spongecake.' Something. Let's do it now so I can miss Skeeter's class and adjust to whatever trauma it is before tomorrow."
He looked around. Nope. Nothing. And it was time to go to journalism. He idly wondered if that counted as he grabbed his notebook. Probably.
"Spongecake." Nothing. It was worth a shot.
This whole prom thing was going smoothly. Too smoothly. He had everything he needed and his girlfriend's siblings only threatened to hurt him. Peter had grown to accept that Parker Luck wasn't good luck. He was waiting for something bad.
He decided to meet fate halfway. "Okay," he said to the empty room. "I know that something weird is going to happen, you know something weird is going to happen, let's just take care of it right now. Octavius comes crashing through my window, or I'm turned into a duck, or pudding showers down on me when I say 'spongecake.' Something. Let's do it now so I can miss Skeeter's class and adjust to whatever trauma it is before tomorrow."
He looked around. Nope. Nothing. And it was time to go to journalism. He idly wondered if that counted as he grabbed his notebook. Probably.
"Spongecake." Nothing. It was worth a shot.