fandomhigh | Newspaper Club, Journalism Room, Monday after classes

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!club: newspaper

Newspaper Club, Journalism Room, Monday after classes

This was Dave. This was Dave embarrassed that he wasn't able to properly get the newspaper fixed up this week after the paranoid idiot he was over the weekend wrote for the newspaper for some inexplicable reason. He looked a lot like Dave any other time, in that he was behind a desk and clutching a cup of coffee. He looked rather unlike Dave at any other time because his head was on the desk and occasionally lifted just high and long enough to drop back down with a sad thud.

He also had a bagel next to his coffee, which was also new.

"Anyone have any non-crazy news for next week?" he sighed one of the times he lifted his head up. Then he let himself headdesk again.

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"Dunno." Sam held DB up so she could look him in the eye. "Hey! Baby! Be quiet!"

DB threw his bone at her, but did actually shut up. She set him carefully on the desk.

"Alright, kid. Coffee time." She held out the hand not holding DB in a sitting position out for the mug.

Dave handed the mug over. "I really wish I had a camera right now."

"I know, right? Kid could be a star." Well, an internet star, at least. She held the mug up to DB's lips, and he sniffed it suspiciously before screwing his mouth up. "Come on. Drink or no more bones."

DB pouted, then took a fairly large gulp, for a faux baby. Sam tipped the cup up until he finished it, then watched him thoughtfully.

"I think we need some music."

"I also don't have anything that plays music," Dave said. "I could drum out a beat on the desk."

"What, you don't have a PearPod or anything?" Laaaaaame. Sam pulled her phone out of her pocket and scrolled through it until she found a Hannah Montana track. "Alright, baby." She hit play. "Dance! Dance! Mwahahahahaha!"

What? The evil laugh was totally obligatory.

DB was definitely jittery, and started bopping back and forth in a baby way to the music. After a moment, he even flopped his arms around.

What? You didn't get a lot of fine motor control out of a baby the age DB was meant to be.

"I'm from 1981. The best I have is a record player at home," Dave said. "And, okay, that is pretty great."

"He's got some charm," Sam said. "You know, for a dirty little rugrat."

It wasn't DB's fault he was dirty. Sam just kept expecting him to take a bath on his own.

"In another couple decades, he'll be a real lady-killer with those kind of moves," Dave said. "I mean, maybe literally, since he is a robot."

The robot revolution would surely come someday.

"He's pretty good at turning anything into a weapon."

"So not just bones?" Dave asked. "What else has he gotten his hands on?"

"My collection of hammers," Sam said.

Yes, she had a collection of hammers.

Dave was pretty sure he didn't want to know the answers to the first couple questions that came to mind, so he quickly settled on, "You realize that turning a hammer collection into weapons isn't difficult, right? All you do is aim it at someone instead of a nail."

"That's pretty much true about anything," Sam said. "I could probably beat you up with a grapefruit."

"Well, grapefruits are huge," Dave argued. "But you couldn't beat me up with an orange. Maybe."

"That a challenge?"

"What? No!" Dave said. "Absolutely not a challenge."

"That's probably wise."

"I've never been in a fight at all. I don't want my first one to be over whether or not an orange can hurt me," Dave said.

"You've never been in a fight?"

Pardon Sam, she found that hard to believe. Didn't everyone grow up fighting at least someone?

"Please don't take that as an invitation," Dave requested.

"Do you just run away a lot?"

"No, people mostly just ignored me," Dave said. "I wasn't really worth beating up."

"Don't sell yourself short. I'm sure someone wanted to beat you up."

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Newspaper Club, Journalism Room, Monday after classes

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