hotel

Hello Professor Lyburn.
Hello Aubrey, come in and please stop announcing me to everyone in the parking lot every time you come in the room.
You're so self-important that you think the people in the parking lot #1 believe that you're a professor and two, give two craps?
One, I am not self-important, two, did you get me gatorade?
I got G2. You don't need gatorade, you just think you do. I do all the work in here.
Maybe sometimes you work harder, but I have to replenish fluids.
You have to replenish a tablespoon of fluids! Get real.

No xombies and vampirestats.

It had all started out simply. He was supposed to head down to the couch. He was meeting friends there. Clay was one of them. Clay had the hookup. It hadn't really dawned on Lance before, but Clay was probably the genesis of these locations. they were places that his dad was probably building. In fact, if Clay had known anything about law, he would have realized that Clay's father had advised him to go there because it was still private property, so there'd be more for the family lawyer to play around with if and when the cops busted them. Anyway, there they were, at a cul-de-sac in a new development  suburban to the capitol. It was black tar that smelled new and warm, with brownie crumbles splashed up over the cement gutter that walled the black pond in from the pine and oak forest that had been bulldozed for new development. They met there over the course of 15 minutes, slowly forming rank as they were able to get there. Hillary opened the hatch to clay's Golf and removed Black Betty, clay's homemade PVC water bong. It was white, but he already had a moby dick, so he opted for the misnomer. Black betty was mush shorter than Moby Dick too. Moby Dick was an early attempt, so he worked in the macro in order to make things easier. Black Betty squeezed into the side compartment for the lug-wrench and car jack so perfectly that she was almost unnoticeable. Lance was third to hit, he wasn't sure, with this many people, how far the bag would stretch, so he took a hard pull that filled his lungs. He sucked as fast as possible, so that people wouldn't notice that he was bogarting it. They noticed, but didn't care. Before Lance knew it, the bong was passed back into his hands and another pull. After three hits, Lance was feeling dizzy. He'd smoked a lot of bowls, but never felt this way. He was increasingly dizzy. He asked Clay if he could sit down in his back seat. "Sure man -wow! you're pale! are you going to throw up?!"
"No, I'm just dizzy. I'm gonna lie down." And he did. The golf continued to rotate around him like a bearing on an axle, but it slowed down eventually. They drove to the mall afterward and were going to watch a movie, but first they stopped at Chick-fil-a for some food. Dan said, "Dude Lance, you look rough, I'm gonna buy you a value meal." Lance looked up from the table he'd been staring at in order to get it to hold still with him and stop the mall from pivoting. "Thanks Dan." "Dude, you want a chicken sandwich?" "Sure."
In a few minutes Dan brought the bag over. Lance dumped it out on the table and promptly vomited in the bag. Increasingly annoying because he'd never heard of someone ODing on weed. In fact, he'd read it was impossible. Even Chuck Palaniuk knew better.

Professor Ty

Ty was rarely called into the dean's office. He usually was in there once or twice a year for a review or for the dean to remind him to try for bigger journals to get published in. Ty wasn't terrifically interested in being published. He only did as much as he needed to in order to maintain his professorship. Mostly, he wanted to keep his head down, teach 5 days a week and go home and be with his wife and kids. He liked teaching because he was respected. His colleagues respected him. people he met at parties that he was required to go to respected him. Most importantly, his students respected him. when he spoke in class, the class was quiet. That's the type of respect that you don't get many places. It's the type of honor conferred upon a pilot, or a president or an idiot in the wrong place with a fully automatic rifle. People sought Ty's opinion on things. People respected his views, be they political or otherwise. Ty derived a great deal of personal pleasure out of his work. However, he never articulated why, and mostly ignored the reason why he loved it. His wife knew why he loved it, but she humored him by never really pointing it out to him.
Together Ty and his wife had five kids. He had four boys: Lance, Leonard, Sal and Nedry. He felt bad about naming the last one Nedry. They'd picked fairly uncommon names except for Lance, but Nedry was a family name. Unfortunately, either the name made the man or the man was pre-appointed to the name, but Nedry ended up being a bit uncommon and odd. Nedry was very obedient and intelligent, he was downright pious really, and precocious. He loved to talk to Ty about his work. He loved to learn. He worked hard at his chores, he worked hard at school. He had defaulted to taking the first-born role in the family due to an absence of volunteers for that mantle from his older brothers. Lance was really good at everything. He was a jack of all trades with a distinguishing sense of what qualified as a trade worthy for his interests. Not really trades though, mostly hobbies. he was competitive at bicycling, eating without consequences, using Oxford Commas, and making fun of people. He had a real knack for cruelty. Not physical cruelty, it would barely amount to verbal abuse. Well, sometimes it would amount.