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Rorick Skyve
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Two fifty-eight. Sweep hand passin' the ten. Scrawny little fucker coulda used some of his big bro's chill, short hand sure knew how to take its sweet-ass time, didn't give no fucks about its minute hand pal tellin' it to move its ass each time it passed by. Sweep hand though, that one really needed to take less sugar with its coffee or something, ran in circles like it was bein' chased or something. Not that Aiden minded, though. If anything, he wished the thing would have moved even faster, least till the minute hand reached the frickin' twelve, let the full third hour enjoy its daily minute of fame.

Two fifty-nine. One minute to go, The Brain was about to arrive, so she was. Guess that made him Pinky. Only without that stupid-ass voice, like. Always hated that lab rat weirdo's guts for that reason, sounded like it was the outcome of a hillbilly gangbang without rubbers. Jesus, has to get his damn mind outta the gutter real fast, sure as shit.

But like, he was kind of excited, all shaky waky, couldn't wait for that fucking ring to bell. Bell to ring. Case in point right there.

Like, wouldn't have thought that he could have ever gotten so hyped over an hour of frickin' tutoring. For maths no less. But here he was, watchin' that damn sweep hand pass the four on that good ol' grandfather clock, eyes glued to it like he was watchin' the play-offs. Thirty seconds to go. Boy, oh boy.

Really though, he was bein' totally silly, so he was. Not like his tutor was just gonna appear in a puff of smoke the second that clock rang three, or enter the room through a time portal or some shit. Like, woulda been awesomesauce, sure, sweet as heck, make him bust a nut or something. Yeah, wasn't gonna happen.

He didn't even know Georgia Lee, for crying out loud. Couldn't remember ever having talked to the chick, didn't even have a face to associate with that name. Only reason he had answered to that notice on the school's bulletin board was cause it had said that he could do the tutoring at his own place. Like, what's not to love, jack fucking pot. Could sit on his favourite fluffy couch in the whole damn world while getting his ears bend by some braniac lass. Not a bad deal, not at all.

Sweep hand at the ten. Final spurt incoming! Not like it had any competition, but still. Was tryin' to do his best, show off a little, to be sure. Cocky little prick. Least he did his job, though. Still, wasn't like Georgia was gonna show up for least another minute or so. Maybe more. Shit, maybe even fifteen whole minutes, make him sit on his ass and twiddle his thumbs in the meantime. Would have sucked the big one if she did. Well, now he had that other image stuck in his head.

He got up from the couch, ruffling his hair with both hands. And a-three. And a-two. And a-

Ding frickin' dong. Door bell ringing, holy cow on a stick. Didn't get more on point than that. Chick really was a ninja or something. Either that, or she had some punctuality complex or something. Eh, whatever kept her boat a-floatin'.

Took him three huge steps to get to the door. Cracked his knuckles, then his neck and then Aiden opened the door.
Edited by Rorick Skyve, Jul 18 2016, 10:48 PM.
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