Chapter Text
Susie’s thumb was too big to pack the bowl but Kris had slim fingers, sometimes painted, and was enlisted hence for getting the bong ready. Not to mention that it was technically their bong, another hand-me-down from Asriel, though Kris weren’t greedy about lending it out but it was understood by the gang that if the bong were to break somehow then that would be the end of an easy, good thing… and nobody had the dollars for another one. So, Kris flipped open their grinder and took a pinch of weed and tucked it smartly into the bowl.
“Dude,” Susie said. “Kief?”
“No,” Kris said. “I’m saving it.”
“For what?”
They shrugged. Susie grabbed Kris’ wrist and inspected their watch.
“It’s chicken patty night, spark it, go.”
Box fan in the window, two big milky rips each sucked down and out into the cooling airspace. Susie noticing now that there had been jazz playing the whole time.
“Damn, Kris.”
They stood and swept weed crumbs from their corduroys and checked their pockets for their keycard and Susie took this cue to do the same.
“Hey, look at me.”
And, their scarlet eyes blaring straight ahead but really going nowhere.
“We are blasted, kid.”
Kris can barely nod.
But the two manage down the stairs and are bumping shoulders while they cross the street into the quad and under the shadows of the tall, yellowing trees. Not talking at all but mustering all they can to put one foot in front of the other.
“Stop,” Kris said.
Susie paused, wide-eyed. “What?”
They patted their pockets, the present feeling of: their phone, their keycard.
“Okay.”
“Wait,” said Susie and she pulled out her wallet. There it was. “Okay.”
“I can’t wait to sit down,” said Kris.
“I can’t wait to eat these chicken patties.”
“We’re almost there.”
“I need a scooter or something.”
“Wait.”
“What?”
“No, nevermind.”
“Is Ralsei at the vegan bar today?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you see what’s on the vegan bar menu?”
“No.”
Susie closes her eyes and thinks about what Ralsei is doing. She sees him setting out a tray of pasta primavera. She runs her snout into the door of the dining hall.
“Ah, fuck.”
Somehow Kris is already a step ahead, scanning in, selecting a table in their preferred corner of the hall, away from the entrance, rolling up their sleeves. Their perfect hair resting on their perfect shoulders and crossing their arms, turned away from their peers, the student body, the Rudinns and Netskies and Poppups. Susie threw her wallet on the table, cracked her knuckles.
“Okay, chow time.”
She and Kris grab plates and head first to the vegan bar. Green beans, mashed sweet potatoes, tempeh in curry, pasta primavera… behind the sneeze guard, one fluffy boy in an apron and ears pulled into a bun and gloves over his paws.
“Kris! Susie!” Ralsei exclaims. “I’m right here!”
“Ralsei, hush,” Susie whispered. “We are so high right now.”
Kris nods. Ralsei laughs.
“Please try the pasta primavera, I made it with lots of love,” he said.
“I dunno… those chicken patties over there…”
“Come on, Susie, you need vegetables!”
“Fine!” She heaved a serving onto her plate and Kris’ too. “Happy?”
“Yes!”
“Come to Kris’ later, after your shift.”
“Okay!”
The most woeful part of their circulation began and they separated. Kris popped in their earbuds but was soon interrupted by a passing Mizzle who said Hiii, Kris. Susie looked at the ceiling while in line for the chicken patties. Many admired her giant jaws or the way her hair swooped down her back. Nobody can see her pink eyes. She took four buns and four patties and one more to nibble on while she applied toppings. Kris reviewed the pizza bar: eggshell and peppercorn, blueberry jam, regular. Regular, blueberry jam, eggshell and peppercorn. Across the waiting pies and slices stood Green, who smiled wordlessly. Kris also smiled wordlessly. Their mutual wordlessness was comfortable. The sound of a cartoon explosion announced that a new pizza was ready. Green gestured: take a slice, take several, take as many as you like. Kris took one of each flavor and carried their laden plate back to Susie.
“It’s good to sit down,” they said.
“This one is ranch, swiss, jalapeno. This one is mustard, provolone, banana pepper. This one is barbecue sauce, pickle, pickle, hot sauce. Another ranch, swiss, jalapeno. And also Ralsei’s gay pasta.”
“Balling.”
“Man, I love college, I’ve never eaten this good.”
“Balling.”
“I told Ralsei to come over later.”
“Yeah, I was standing next to you.”
“Oh, yeah.”
Kris looked down and saw that their plate was empty. They wondered if they enjoyed their dinner; they licked their lips and found that pizza crumbs rasped their tongue. Suddenly, Kris wanted to know what Susie was thinking and wanted to hear her voice above all of the happening clatter, chatter, and noise. But, they’re parched and haven't got the right question. Maybe, there's nothing to say… sometimes they wished that somebody would choose their next words for them…
"I'm gonna get dessert," Susie said.
"There's dessert?"
"There's always dessert, Kris, we've been here for a month."
"I knew that."
“Do you want a cookie or something?”
“I'll go.”
Getting up together, they wove through the tables towards the dessert bar and there was pie like Mom made but it wasn't Mom's and there were slices of yellow cake, much to Susie's delight, causing her to grin, causing her to swing her head and jump her eyebrows, like to say Jackpot. Sweets collected. Lingering near the coffee station were a gaggle of Jigsawry and there was a Hathy adding granola to yogurt.
“Should I clean my room?” Kris asked.
“Huh, nah.”
Embarrassed for even asking. Stuffing cake in their mouth.
“Have you been to my room yet?” Susie asked.
Kris thought about it. No, they hadn’t.
“There’s nothing in there anyways.”
Arriving at their table with empty plates already. Outside the windows, the sun had dipped below the trees and the cornices of the academic buildings. The sky was colored an electric pink, speckled with patterns of flying geese.
“Let’s go home,” Kris said.
And they were out into the twilight, listening to the crickets, relieved to be out of the sight and earshot of strangers, the wind ruffling their collars and dark hair. Kris, powered by sugar, emanated a radiant warmth through the backs of their hands, through their cheeks and shoulders. Susie leaned near, cold-blooded as she was. A group of upperclassmen Pippins obviously on their way to The Green Room, one of the townie bars. Soon, they were back in Kris’ room and immediately they dove into the closet, retrieving a small, dense TV of greige plastic, the one the Dreemurrs would keep in the kitchen back home. Besides a crushed corner from a forgotten, unfortunate incident the TV was in working order. Even the built-in DVD player functioned smoothly. It was the one thing Kris had demanded come with them. Everything else, the sheets, the towels, the bong, came to them as well-meant discards, but that little TV was something they had coveted since long ago. They turned to Susie.
“You got a movie?”
“Duh,” She said. From within her overshirt she produced a DVD case. “Kick ‘Em To Death, starring K. Round.”
A muffled knock came, fluffy knuckles. Susie shook Kris.
“It’s Ralsei!”
“Or, it’s security.”
“Shit! Hide the bong. Throw it out the window.”
“Never.” Kris clung to it.
“Kris…Susie…,” Ralsei sang through the door. “Are you there?”
Susie changed her tune, opened the door nonchalantly.
“Ralsei, glad you could make it.”
“Hi, Susie!”
“Get in here, kid.”
Ralsei stooped to brush off some pine needles from his paws.
“Hi, Kris, what are you guys watching?”
They muster the DVD. Ralsei squints through his glasses.
“I was never allowed to watch things like this.” Bridging his fingers and posing the question daintily. “Have you guys smoked?”
“Oh, Rals, were you fiending during your shift?”
“No, I was not fiending.” He tilted his muzzle up with indignity. “But, it’d be nice to wind down.”
Seated on their bed, Kris pats the comforter, inviting Ralsei to sit. As compliant as always; yielding, and soft in every way, parting his bangs. He fiddled with his ears. Maybe he did need a toke.
“Okay, Ralsei.”
“Yeah, Kris?”
“This is called weed.”
“Huh?”
“It might look like moss but you can’t eat it.”
Susie pressed an eager claw into the TV’s power button. With a flicker and flash the screen filled with a solid azure, awaiting input, awaiting and receiving the disc for Kick ‘Em To Death.
“You can definitely eat weed,” she said.
“I know what weed is,” Ralsei said.
Kris continued. “You grind it up, like so, and pack it into the bowl, but not so tight that it can’t burn right, then you put the bowl in a bong. You might be wondering. What’s a bong?”
“Give me that.” Ralsei pulls out their own lighter with a heart on it.
The room was cacophonous and overlaid with the sound of Ralsei sparking, the box fan, vigorous bubbling, an aggressively percussive DVD menu theme. Susie slid up to Ralsei as he removed his mouth from the lip of the bong. He blinked his outrageous eyelashes and exhaled smoke. Finally, he sputtered. He took off his glasses and wiped his eyes. Susie watched a tear roll down his cheek, his jaw, his throat, and dab into his collar.
He made a small, helpless laugh. “Okay, who’s next?”
Kris raised their hand, shook their hair out of their face, took and maneuvered the bong. Ralsei turned to Susie with dopey, cheery eyes.
“Want me to hit play?”
The menu theme looped again for what could have been the twelfth time.
“Go for it,” she said.
He scrutinized the TV’s array of buttons for several minutes, muttering, Play, Rewind, Forward, Pause, Stop, kneeling closer and closer to the static surface until the hair on his stood. It was Susie's turn on the bong. She saw the glistening, slobbered bong and looked at Kris’ curling content lips, the fangs hanging from Ralsei’s agape mouth. He was tilting the little screen to and fro until he found the most egalitarian angle. The movie was initiated.
“Um, can you see, Kris?”
They stuck up an affirmative thumb and Ralsei returned to the bed, squeaking between, unobtrusively, in the unoccupied space. The three were shoulder to shoulder, waiting for the credits to end and the action to begin, but by the time there was even a little blood shed Susie was already asleep, settling her big head of Ralsei, who leaned under her weight onto Kris. They were soon enveloped in the purr of monstrous snores and, from the window, a cool air tempered their cheek.