Lee hadn't had much contact with the world today which is why he didn't realize anything was amiss. Instead, he'd slept and read and slept some more
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Adah couldn't tell if this was the worst idea in the world, or one that might actually have her regaining some of the sanity she was pretty sure she had lost throughout the day. It had, after all, not been a secret that Adah hated just about everyone around her, but the fact that she had seemed unusually vocal (and, thankfully, poetic) about informing them of it today seemed just a bit too odd, even for her.
But then her mother called...
World War Three, enacted by two Southern belles with far too many issues, and Adah was feeling so extremely out of sorts that she'd actually stolen her roommate's key and locked her out, just so she didn't have to deal with her as she tried to see if maybe, just maybe, that cell phone from Fandom still worked for calls to Fandom.
"If there be no friendly arm to check us," answered Adah, "or if we fail in a sudden effort to prostrate ourselves backward from the abyss, we plunge, and are destroyed."
What? As if they ever used normal greetings.
"Edgar Allen Poe, Imp of the Perverse, and I think I have fallen victim to the perverse of all imps. Forget your island and your gremlins: this is worse. For while I have never shied from truth, Eel, I at least didn't try to spit it out every five seconds to every face I see."
There was a sound, something like a failed attempt to hold back a tired, miserable sort of whimper.
"I was just talking to Pride about him being constipated because he stinks up his cage on a regular basis," Lee said. "He didn't seem particularly impressed by my lecture."
Normal greetings were for wimps.
"I miss you too. A lot. Everyday. This place is so much more hard to deal with without you."
Sokka knocked on the door until it swung open. "Good evening, Guy Whose Arms Everyone But Me Can't Shut Up About! Do you have anything embarrassing to say for the microphone?"
"It's not my fault that people talk about my arms," he said, frowning. "I don't publicize them or show them off and if you're jealous, well, I really can't help you."
"Of course I'm jealous," Sokka told him. "Anyone in their right mind would be. I mean, you're just way better-looking than me in general. Except YOU'RE the one who's supposed to say something embarrassing now."
"Well, I am better looking than you," Lee said, shrugging. "You shouldn't be jealous because I'm not trying to show anyone up. I can't help how I look."
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That's what Lee thought, at least. Silly boy.
"And if that's crazy, half this school should be in a loony bin. We let the squirrels report the news, after all."
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Yes, that was entirely beside the point. But it had to be said.
"Is the token of your girlfriend's love saying anything interesting back?"
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But then her mother called...
World War Three, enacted by two Southern belles with far too many issues, and Adah was feeling so extremely out of sorts that she'd actually stolen her roommate's key and locked her out, just so she didn't have to deal with her as she tried to see if maybe, just maybe, that cell phone from Fandom still worked for calls to Fandom.
It was ringing; that seemed a good sign.
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Lee, deciding to live on the edge, picked it up and said, "Hello?"
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What? As if they ever used normal greetings.
"Edgar Allen Poe, Imp of the Perverse, and I think I have fallen victim to the perverse of all imps. Forget your island and your gremlins: this is worse. For while I have never shied from truth, Eel, I at least didn't try to spit it out every five seconds to every face I see."
There was a sound, something like a failed attempt to hold back a tired, miserable sort of whimper.
"I miss you."
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Normal greetings were for wimps.
"I miss you too. A lot. Everyday. This place is so much more hard to deal with without you."
Just spill it all, Lee.
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