3-2-1 Ambition

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A gentle and cool early spring breeze swept through the trees lining the main walkway of River’s End University. Second semester was in full swing, but the weather, having finally broken, invited earnest youthful students setting up booths along the walkway trying to enlist other equally earnest and youthful students for their respective causes. A chestnut haired student, with darker brown roots beginning to show, was gently antagonizing a student, a year younger than her, at booth. The chestnut haired woman had no interest in the particular cause but enjoyed asking antagonistic questions to the man-bun wearing student at the booth.After a few short minutes of antagonism, a junior with short brown hair and wire frame glasses snuck up on the antagonistic woman.“Jess! I was looking for you. I thought we were going to meet at entrance to Westing Hall?” Jess, the antagonistic woman was startled, but the student hissed into her ear, “You’re about twenty seconds from a concussion when he decks you, play along.”Jess gave a barely perceptible nod, “Sorry I got distracted, my bad. These people are raising awareness for such an important cause.”“Oh yeah, I understand,” the brown haired and bespectacled student turned to the student with the man-bun, “you guys are doing such great work, so important, Jess here was just giving you a hard time. Good luck with the awareness thing.”Jess and Mark, the student just speaking walked swiftly away.“So what? You’re my white knight or something? Hoping I’ll give you a blowjob or something from saving me from a guy who looks like he couldn’t knock over a lamp?”“No, though my reasoning was entirely selfish. See, if you were concussed, that would make Professor Coleman’s class less interesting. The ratio of pompous morons to people who are actually creative in that class is dangerously low, and I fear if it got any lower, I would take an icepick to my skull.”“Oh! I thought I recognized you. Mark, right?”“Yup, though if you feel like providing me with some sort of reward for my generous humanitarian work of saving you from the terrifying man-bun douche, I’ll settle for coffee. By that I mean, buy me a coffee, you ungrateful gadfly.” Mark’s tone was infused heavily with a level of deadpan sarcasm.“Well, I suppose a coffee is the least I can do for my knight in shining armor.” Jess’ tone was equally sarcastic, but with exaggerated emotion compared to Mark’s deadpan.Together, they walked to the on-campus café, and got in the line for ordering.“I’ll have a chai-mocha-latte with almond milk, and a hint of mint,” Jess said with an air of superiority about her.Mark, as again deadpan said, “Coffee, black and bitter, but with ground pepper sprinkled in, large.”The barista looked at him, with eyes heavily scrutinizing him. “We don’t have black pepper.”Mark groaned, “Yes you do, it’s in one of the sandwiches you make on premises, I will pay for the black pepper inclusion if it is necessary.” A second barista tapped the first one on the shoulder, explained that it was fine, no extra charge.Jess turned to Mark, “The fuck?”“It’s just what I like.”Jess paid and as they were about to split up, a girl from their writing class, with short dyed black hair, snuck up on them, “Whoa, are you two an item? I did not expect that.”“Marie, what can I do for you this lovely afternoon?” Mark asked, deadpan sarcasm in his voice.“Nothing, just surprised to see you two together. You never talk in class.” Marie was in their writing course as well. “What do you say we grab a seat and I can play third wheel, I’m in the mood for some gossip.”“We’re not dating.” Jess said with finality. “However, I am open to socialization. It’s Friday, I’ve got nothing to do for the rest of the day.”The three of them sat at the table. Mark set his coffee down first, https://www.kusadasibest.com which Marie swooped up and took a sip of, which she immediately regretted. “Jesus Mark! What the fuck is that! It’s like coffee but spicy? I don’t have the words.”“I assume it’s so no one will steal his drink or food, so he loads it with spicy or other conflicting flavors,” Jess postulated.“Eh, not quite,” Mark said. “I can’t taste anything but spicy and bitter. Sweet, salty, savory, whatever the other ones are I get nothing out of. Makes spicy coffee pretty much the most indulgent of flavors I can experience. To me this is a carefully curated and balance for the perfect dish from a culinary master. I get all the flavors.”“That’s… weird,” Marie hesitated, “I don’t think I’ve met anyone with that problem in the past.”“It’s not really a problem, just a fact of life for me,” Mark shrugged it off.“With that, I’m going to grab something, be back in a sec,” Marie said cheerfully.Within a few moments she returned with a vegetarian sandwich on focaccia bread. “So what’s the latest? Jess, what is your next opus going to be about? Mark, are you still harboring that grudge against Brendon for the mathematical and logistical errors in his work? You know its creative writing right? You don’t need to nitpick the fuckups of the minute detail.”“Yes. Yes I am, on all accounts. His work is riddled with inconsistences that range from using incorrect numbers; to having characters change key factors about themselves every few sentences. Also, his attempts at writing action sequences have roughly the same outcome as the mutant hybrid spawn of a sloth and a manatee doing gymnastics. It caused me physical pain. I will continue to fight this one man war for verisimilitude until my dying day, or class ends, whichever comes first, really.”The two girls laughed at how enthusiastic he became about his petty one-sided hate boner for a fellow classmate.“I’ll concede that Brendon’s work is shit. But you’re not going to change anything like that,” Jess said almost reluctantly. “As for my next opus, well, you’ll just have to wait, but I’ll let you know it does in no way include the mutant hybrid spawn of a sloth and a manatee, in any form; let alone doing gymnastics.“Is it a satirical horror story about a washer/dryer combo that steals women’s underwear?” Marie asked.“No.”“Okay, good, I didn’t want someone else to have that idea,” Marie breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief.“Wait, why does it only steal women’s underwear? Is it some kind of pervert? Is it the washer or the dryer stealing it? If it’s the washer, wouldn’t the excess water result in molding? If it’s the dryer couldn’t that start a fire due to the lint buildup and heat?” Mark’s mind raced with the complicated logistics of a washer/dryer stealing underwear.“I think you’re thinking too much into it, Mark. But now I do need to change it, since it was going to be a perverted demon washer/dryer. Now maybe it’ll be haunted by a girl who could never find underwear that fits properly, so her spirit haunts the washer/dryer searching for that perfect bra,” Marie guessed.“I’ll similarly concede the point that it can be a bitch to find a bra that fits perfectly. Finding the measurements is weird.” Jess said.“What if you combined the two? A girl went around stealing bras from others searching for the perfect one along with an illicit sexual thrill, when she was murdered for stealing underwear by being drowned or suffocated in the washer or dryer respectively. Now her spirit haunts them, searching for the right bra while gaining a thrill from them. Oh wow, this is brilliant; I’m on a roll here…” Mark said before he was cut off by Marie.“That’s enough! Stop giving me suggestions; let me figure it out on my own!” Marie exclaimed, practically out of breath.Jess sighed, “Okay kids, this has been fun but people are starting to look at us like we’re insane and while you two may not take any issue with it, I kind of do. See ya around.”“Hold on a sec,” Marie took hold of Jess’ arm. “I propose we meet up in my room later tonight, get drunk and continue this line of conversation. This is far more enjoyable than I anticipated.”Mark shrugged, “Sounds like a good time to me. All I planned to do today was sit in my dorm room and try to figure out how to not be bored. Though I’ll assume each of us will need to bring our own booze as our tastes will most likely not overlap. Jess I assume you enjoy wine, probably rosé, most likely sparkling given the pretentiousness of your coffee order. Marie, you take me as a…” he paused a moment, “some kind of fruity bullshit or a vodka laced with a fruity infusion.”“What gave you that idea, Mark?” Marie inquired. “Actually, I’m much more of a red wine girl.”“And I pretty much only get hard cider,” Jess said.“I was close.” The two girls looked at him like he was mental, “All four are things that taste like either piss or nothing to me, and they all contain fruit. In case you were wondering, I’ll be procuring a six-er of beer brewed locally, mostly because they are the only ones who make an IPA with hot spices in it.”“What kind of brewery would make such a thing?” Marie asked.“The kind that is owned by a family friend and made specifically for me, however it is popular in Japan. You know how they are with their fermented beans and tentacles and eating poisonous blowfish.” Mark spaced out for a moment, “Where was I? Oh yes, when do you want to meet and where, as this sounds like as good a use of a Friday night as any that I don’t need to do homework or study.”“Guess I’m in as well,” Jess sighed.“Epic,” said Marie. “I’ll text you two a time and my dorm address.” She did and the three went their separate ways, each to a different location for the procurement of liquor (although Mark had to go to the source for his, due to its specialist nature.)A few hours passed before the agreed upon meeting time. Jess was their first, but within five minutes of her arrival, Mark arrived, the bottles of beer clanking in his backpack.“Welcome to my humble domicile, Mark if you spill your spicy bitter beer in here you will be cleaning the entire floor with your tongue until every trace of it is gone.”“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, Marie.”They brought out their respective drinks, each with a carefully designed label. Jess’ hard cider had stylized images of apple trees and birds adorning the label. Marie’s red wine had a more elegant design, deep brown, slightly raised silver lettering and an image of a swan about to take flight from water, also in the slightly raised silver. Mark’s beer however was the standout. It featured an elderly Asian man, bald with a long white beard and a face full of rage, brandishing a cane as though to hit someone with it. On the reverse, the name of the beer ‘Infinite Hatred IPA’ with the word ‘infinite’ being stylized as a lemniscate.“That is one provocative looking beer. Like it wants to fight me to the death in a cage. Like throwing the bottle at someone would hurt extra,” Marie rambled.“It probably would, the capsaicin might have a degree of residue on the bottle, and if that comes into contact with the blood drawn it could be quite hellish,” Mark guessed.“It kind of suits you,” Jess said, not sure if it was a question or a statement. “Like with your writing, there’s so much vitriol and absurdity that an elderly Asian man hitting someone with a cane while screaming profanities is a perfect visualization. Angry elderly and Asian isn’t a visual that goes along with the dignity and honor we associate with the Far East.”The alcohol was cracked open, and they spent a fair amount of time collectively bashing the majority of their classmates in the writing class. Whether it was Brendon’s sheer incompetence (Mark’s words), or Sheila’s attempt at being the ‘voice of a generation’ but with work that came out like an angst ridden teenager thinking she’s deep (Jess’ words), or Claire’s ‘sheer lack of joy’ (Marie’s words.) Naturally, good natured barbs were hurled at each other, in particular Mark’s reliance on angry satire over plot (something both Marie and Jess agreed on), which he defended as it being ‘picaresque’ or Marie’s tendency towards sympathetic, yet ultimately bitchy (Jess’ words) characters, which Mark also agreed, issuing grievances, in that the characters were largely engaging in reprehensible actions, and that giving them sympathy or justification was a weak crutch. The insults at Marie’s work (agreed upon by Mark and Jess, though they were Mark’s words) were geared towards having characters that merely ‘existed’ as opposed to be being actors within the story, and her attempts at writing a socially awkward character came across as more endearing than actually awkward.The room was filled with laughter; each of them ultimately had to agree with the criticisms levied at them. Eventually, Marie had a suggestion, “Okay, we’re tipsy, I propose an on-the-fly narrative. We each have to kind of stream of consciousness tells a story, we have the same rough outline, and we see where we go from there.”“Sounds fun,” said Jess. “I propose the narrative is that two people meet up somewhere, and then sex happens between the two of them. Mark you go first.”“Why do I have to go first?” Mark said, “Seduction and romance is out of my wheelhouse. If you went first I’d at least have a jumping off point.”“Your believed incompetence is why you have to go first. So we feel better about what we do.” Who said that doesn’t matter, the sentiment was echoed between the two girls.“Fine,” groaned Mark.The bar was near empty that night, a Sunday in football (American) season in a bar with no televisions had a tendency to do that. Jazz radio filled the room, broken up by the cracking of billiards balls connecting with one another. A man sat alone at the bar, in a slight daze. Laid off that Friday, he had decided to drink his woes away, and figure out what the hell he was going to do starting on Tuesday. Monday he would be nursing the wicked hangover he knew he would be getting from drinking so much that night. Yeah, it would be hellish but there were worse ideas, not that he could think of any his mind clouded by the copious alcohol he consumed…“Halt!” Interjected Marie, “You are spending way too much time on the setting and main character. This is short fiction so get to the banging. You haven’t introduced the person he’s going to fuck. Keep it quick, this isn’t supposed to be one of your fifteen page minimal-dialogue exercises in indulgence. Get to the fucking and seduction and shit already!”“I told you I was incompetent at this,” spat Mark. “I was going stream of unconscious for that, while I figured out the rest. Buy time by building setting and atmosphere so I could figure the rest out. Not like I could go back and retract stuff, you know.”“Wait,” Jess said, slightly confused, “you weren’t thinking about that? You split your focus into figuring the rest out while just rambling. That was surprisingly coherent for something like that.”“As penance for your incompetence and wasting our time, you must take off your pants,” insisted Marie.“That makes no fucking sense,” Mark complained.“I’m drunk enough that I agree with Marie. Take off your pants, you are outvoted.”“This is insane,” Mark sighed as he began taking off his shoes to more easily remove his pants; the alcohol preventing him from putting up a sufficient fight. “Marie, you go now. Can I at least decide that?”

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