Journalism Class - Wednesday December 7

[jerusalem-s.livejournal.com]

Spider is again missing, but a sign on his desk (tastefully decorated with little skulls and three-eyed smiley faces) exhorts his students to please take a sprig of mistletoe from the small dish on the desk and experiment with it. "100 words exactly on how the experiment goes and, whatever else you do with it, don't eat it."

Comments

[soldtoarmenians]

Xander looks at the sign. Looks at the mistletoe. Looks at the sign. Looks at the mistletoe.

"Oh, nuh-uh," he says, with a groan. "I have played this game before. With the hat and the spring. The results of the experiment are my ex-girlfriend pointing and snickering, and the football player who thinks I came out to him when I was trying to figure out if he was a werewolf giving me thumbs up from across the hall and sending every remotely unstraight guy in school my way. I had to hide in my locker. Which was not the first time I'd been forced into it by said football player, but the rest of them were before he actually liked me."

He picks up a sprig of mistletoe and studies it unhappily for a moment, before a smile starts to form on his face. "On the other hand... or, um. Paw. Pad?"

[soldtoarmenians]

Xander grabs his books, and hightails it back to his dorm room with mistletoe in hand. After stopping for a quick bit of arts-and-crafts, he heads off to study hall, mistletoe and all.

[jerusalem-s.livejournal.com]

Spider makes a note to give Xander an A and beetles off to watch the camera feed from Study Hall over Rover's purely metaphorical shoulder.

[soldtoarmenians]

Xander sneaks back in at about 1 in the morning to leave his hundred words.

The results of my experiment seem to indicate that not only can I turn a frog purple, I can turn him blue. Despite his festive holiday decoration and abundant natural charm, no one offered to take advantage of the mistletoe and kiss Jeremiah. Paige taunted him with the possibility, but no joy to the world was forthcoming. Now he's all depressed and not speaking to me. Granted, he wasn't speaking to me before, but now he's being pissy about it. Please don't ask me for details when I say that I speak literally here. Conclusion: dud batch of mistletoe, sir.