“You want cream in it?” he asks.
“Yeah. Cream in it,” I tell him. Old joke.
“Hey Sean, you’re … pretty funny.”
“Yeah, I’m a pretty funny guy.”
“Does anyone know where we can get Ecstasy tonight?” Tim asks.
“Where’s the party tonight?” Getch asks.
I spot my roommate, he’s back from New York.
“Ça va,” he says as he passes by.
“Ça va,” I say, then “Ribbet.”
“At End of the World and probably The Graveyard,” Tony tells him. Tony’s head of Rec Committee too. “All donations toward alcohol will be greatly appreciated.”
“Isn’t it too cold to be outside?” asks Getch.
“Dress warm, pu**y.” Tony pushes his plate away and starts on his salad; even though I like Tony, that European salad thing bugs me.
“Pussy? Who said pu**y?” asks Tim. “I haven’t heard that term since eighth grade.”
“Fuck off,” Tony says. He’s pissed because he didn’t get the part in some stupid Drama Division production, even though he’s a sculpture major, and even though he’s a good guy and all, it bugs me that he gets sulky over something so lame. I want to f**k Sara again. She gives incredible head, I remember. Or was that someone else? Or was Sara the one with the coil I almost slit my dick open on? Considering what the situation is now, she probably wasn’t the one with the I.U.D., but even if she was I might just take a chance again, if it was offered to me.
“Anyone know what the movie is tonight?” asks Getch.
“Beats me,” says Tony.
Norris comes back with the coffee and whispers, “Creamed in it.”
I sip it and smile. “Delicious.”
“I don’t know. Night of the Dead Baby? I don’t know,” says Tony.
“Can we shut up?” asks Tim.
“I heard from Roxanne that The Carousel’s closing,” I offer the table.
“No way. Really?” Norris asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “At least that’s what Roxanne says.”
“Why?” Getch asks.
“Freshman and Sophomores don’t drink anymore,” Tony says. “Sucks, doesn’t it.”
“I think it sucks too,” Getch says. He always looks cheesy to me for some reason. I can’t explain it. He shakes the Etch-a-Sketch.
I say, “Rock’n’roll.”
Tim laughs, “The horrah, the horrah.”
Tony says, “It’s just another example of this place going to shit, that’s all.”
I tell him, “Deal with it.”
Tony’s losing his patience, getting all political. “Listen, do you realize that we’re getting a f**king weight room? Why? Do you understand? Can you explain? I can’t. Do you realize that I just came out of a student council meeting where the Freshman reps want fraternity houses installed on campus? Do you understand that? Do you want to deal with it?”
I cringe. “It’s all dumb.”
“Why?” Tim asks. “I think a weight room’s a good idea.” “Because,” I explain, hoping to cool Tony down, “I came here to get away from jock idiots and frat ass**les.”
“Listen,” Tim says with an ugly leer, “Girls work out on that shit for those inner thigh muscles man.” He grabs at my leg and laughs.
“Yeah, well,” I’m suddenly confused. “Still, a weight room.” I don’t really care.
Tony looks at me. “Who are you to talk, Sean? What are you majoring in? Computers?”
“Reagan’s Eighties. Detrimental effect on underclassmen,” Tim says, shaking his head.
It really doesn’t piss me off as much as he wants it to. “Computers,” I mimic him.
“What are you majoring in?” He’s daring me, the big f**king baby, finish your salad, ass**le.
“Rock’n’roll,” I shrug.
He gets up, disgusted. “What are you, a parrot?”
“What’s up his ass?” someone asks.
“Didn’t get that part in the Shepard play,” Getch says.
Deidre appears out of nowhere, to save the day? Not quite.
“Peter?”
The table looks up and falls silent.
“I thought my name was Brian,” I say, without looking at her.
She laughs, probably high. I can see her hands, her fingernails aren’t painted black anymore. It looks like cement color. “Oh well, yeah. How are you?” she asks.