Main Campfire, Monday, After Classes
Sometimes, being a TA rocked.
Other times, Reno ended up standing at a campfire in a black tutu, cute ribbons, and mime make-up, absolutely certain that he hadn't had nearly enough alcohol to be able to do this without crawling under something to die, afterward.
Perhaps surprisingly, getting the tutu had been the easy part. Being a Turk meant that he had connections... well. Everywhere. Ones that tended not to ask questions.
Look! He was in a box! An invisible box! And he could not get out! And he hated you all!
The timer on his phone went off, and he broke into a loud, rousing chorus of I'm a Little Teapot, complete with hand-actions, before he went back into shock-silent mime mode again. Still in that box. Still hating you all.
Marcel Marceau would be rolling over in his grave, right about then.
[So, so open.]
Other times, Reno ended up standing at a campfire in a black tutu, cute ribbons, and mime make-up, absolutely certain that he hadn't had nearly enough alcohol to be able to do this without crawling under something to die, afterward.
Perhaps surprisingly, getting the tutu had been the easy part. Being a Turk meant that he had connections... well. Everywhere. Ones that tended not to ask questions.
Look! He was in a box! An invisible box! And he could not get out! And he hated you all!
The timer on his phone went off, and he broke into a loud, rousing chorus of I'm a Little Teapot, complete with hand-actions, before he went back into shock-silent mime mode again. Still in that box. Still hating you all.
Marcel Marceau would be rolling over in his grave, right about then.
[So, so open.]