Werewolf Series 1 - Episode 04 - Duel!

"This is what we're having for lunch again?" Jamie moaned, directing his burger-shaped complaints towards me, the chef. "I know we're students, but surely you must be able to cook something other than greasy hamburgers, Zach."
"There's no limit to how many hamburgers you can eat in a week," I stated, in a shallow attempt to hide my lack of cooking skills. "Vegetables, on the other hand..."
"We have a cooking rota for a reason," Jamie started, before I broke him off mid-sentence.
"Yeah, so you can taste my culinary delights once every three meals."
"I can't keep eating this junk, guys. I'm supposed to be watching my weight..." said Hannah.
"Well now you can watch your weight increase!" I mocked.

It was the day after the unexpected confrontation with the good witch Mistress Gretel, which resulted in uncovering her curious deal with Eric, the dormitory's star football jock and Grade-A jerk. Today was also the day of the quarterback tryouts that the football coach was holding behind Eric's back. Well, Eric soon found out about them. Since discovering that my werewolf powers granted me a super-athletic physique and stamina, there was nothing that could stop me from trying out; not even a steroid-pumped moron whose testosterone was working overtime.

I'd told Jamie and Hannah all about Eric's attempts to intimidate me yesterday. "So did he succeed in scaring you?" Jamie asked.
"The lack of stains on my white underwear says no. But still, he could have released his hormonal build up some other way," I replied.
"Unfortunately aggression is an effective release for stress," Hannah said.
"I can think of one other particularly effective way to get the job done," I added.

"Are you going to try out for the position then?" Jamie continued to probe. "If you do, that means you'll be neglecting even more social engagements with us."
"Don't try to guilt-trip me," I said. "And yes, I'm trying out this afternoon."
"If I wanted to guilt-trip you, I'd emotionally blackmail you using a puppy strapped to a kilo of dynamite," Jamie retorted, shooting a sinister smirk in my direction.
"Jamie, that's a horrible thing to say!" Hannah interjected.
"I was humouring him! He knows my weapon of choice would be an adorable kitten instead," he retaliated. "Besides, you have little time for us as it is, Zach."

"All the extra training would fit in with his timetable. He has to train for part of his sports science coursework anyway," Hannah said, giving me a morsel of support. "With all that extra free time, he'd have absolutely no excuse for standing us up on outings!" So much for the support then.
"It bemuses me as to why Eric would be so desperate to stop you from trying out. What would make him so disturbingly anxious that he'd be prepared to put his fist in your mouth to keep his position?" Jamie pondered aloud.
"Perhaps a male equivalent of menstruation?" I joked.
Jamie laughed, although Hannah didn't seem impressed. "You don't have a clue what it's like for us girls, do you?" Hannah spat in a serious tone, sending a bit of hamburger flying across the table.
"Oh chill out," I grunted.

"Maybe Eric should consider some oestrogen therapy, what with that much testosterone pumping through his hot head," Jamie remarked.
"What, and risk him becoming a whingeing, moaning nag-atron instead? I don't think that's much of an improvement," I said jokingly.
"ZACH!" Hannah... well, whinged.
"What?" I unwittingly questioned. "It's just a bit of banter."
"Don't be so sexist and chauvinistic! It's so demeaning to women! Perhaps you should think about things before you say them," Hannah said. Okay, so maybe I was being a little stereotypical.
"Oh come on. It's not as bad as that time I had a barbershop quartet following me around, singing about everything I said and thought."

Girl: (Giggling) You're cute. Maybe we should exchange phone numbers?
Zach: Aw shucks. (Bashfully) Okay!

Barbershop Quartet: (Singing in harmony) #He really wants to smack that ass, how long before he makes a paaass?#
Zach: Guys!
Barbershop Quartet: #He's curious about any S-T-Is, but her slutty top suggests otherwiiiise!#
Girl: Who are they?
Zach: I don't know, but they've been randomly following me around all day.
Barbershop Quartet: #Doo bah-dee doo bop!#
Zach: Anyway, how about that phone number?

Girl: Well... all right then.
Zach: (Muttering under breath) Yes!
Barbershop Quartet: #He's got the number, he's so hap-py, and even his bulging pants agree!#
Girl: (Disgusted) Urgh!
Zach: Wait; don't listen to those guys-!

Barbershop Quartet: #Looks like he'll be flying solo toniiii-iiii-iiight!#

Zach: Ah, it's good to finally get away from those guys...

Lead Vocalist: #Zach's poor aim has missed the loo, and now he's peed upon his shoe!#
Barbershop Quartet: #Scooba-dee-doo bop bop! Shabba doo wabba bop bop!#

Zach: Fellas, this is getting old. Can you please give me a bit of privacy whilst I pee?
Barbershop Quartet: #Zach's getting worked up at his band, but if I were you, don't shake his haaaaand#
Lead Vocalist: #It might not be so cleeeeeean!#
Barbershop Quartet: #Scooba-dee-doo!#
Zach: Get out!
Barbershop Quartet: #And now he's mad we're going to have to leeeeave#
Baritone Vocalist: #But don't fret, there's nothing down there to see!#
Zach: Oi!

"That never really happened! And you're not excused from being such a chauvinistic pig either," Hannah grumbled. It would be hard for me to convince her otherwise.
"Oink-! Er, I meant, do you guys think I should try out for quarterback or not? You haven't given me much encouragement," I asked.
Hannah sighed and finally conceded, "I'll be backing you whatever decision you make, Zach. Quarterback or measly substitute player. I'll like you however you are."

"Don't trust her words Zachy boy, she's lying through her teeth! (Bom-bom-bom!) But never fret, Zach ahoy, about what she's hiding underneath!"
"Scooba dooba!"
"On the surface - she's just posing - as a tarty, stuck-up tyrant! But rest assured - she won't be settled - until she's inside o' your pants!"
"Bah-bahh de bop-bop!"
"(Jazz hands) She-fancies-yoooooouuuuuuu!!!!"

"Well that was embarrassing," Jamie stated, as Hannah's cheeks flushed an uncomfortable shade of pink. "Talk about unintelligible lyrics."
"Jamie's being an annoying turd, we wish he'd stop being such a nerd! Even Zach agreee-ee-eees!"
"Right, Jamie, please believe me when I say that they do NOT speak for me!" I pleaded.
"Wow, they are irritating. Can they go now? Shoo! Beat it!" Hannah spewed out in a vain attempt to mask her humiliation.

Embarrassed as she might have been, she certainly didn't try to deny any of the feelings my Barbershop friends revealed. Was this a potential romance blossoming? Or maybe it was just a teenage whirlwind that would pass very quickly.

Later on, I had to take a shower to cool off, as the mere thought of getting together with Hannah got me hot and flustered. That, and also the mould cultures growing in my grimy armpits had reached a 2-day milestone. (What? I'm a student! I'm excused!)

The open-plan showers were also a reason why I didn't wash so often...

"Zachary!" a voice cried in the bathroom. A rather feminine voice, at that. And in the male bathroom.
I was frankly quite startled, "What the-?"
"There's an emergency!"
I turned around to confront the miscreant. "Mistress Gretel? What are you doing here? This is the men's room!"
"I need-" she began, until her mischievous eyes landed upon something that distracted her attention. "Whoa, is that it?" she remarked, sounding rather unimpressed. "If this is the men's room, then are you sure you should be in here? Isn't there a little boys' room you can go to?" She cackled hoarsely. I died a little inside.

"Why are people so judgemental?!" I grunted resentfully. "Listen you; will you wait until I'm done showering?"
"Would you like me to cast a spell to correct it for you?"
"Correct? There's nothing to correct!"
"That's right. There's nothing to 'erect," she cackled again. Now she was just being insulting...
"Why are you pestering me?" I asked, ushering her to vamoose.
"Even my wand is bigger-"

After two minutes of showering and feeling immensely awkward, she still persisted to harass me once I was fully dressed.

"I need your help," she stated plainly.
"And what makes you think I'd want to help you after that?" I reacted bitterly.
"My nemesis - the evil witch I mentioned yesterday - is downstairs in your hallway! He is after you, Zach, and together we must fight him off!"
"Gee, I'd love to fight bad guys and all, but I've got the football tryouts to attend-"
"Didn't I tell you not to go to those?" she spluttered. "Never mind. I still require your assistance, wolf boy, whether you're willing or not!"

"And if I don't?" I asked.
"Then I'll tickle you until you come with me!" she replied in a condescending voice, as if I was some five-year-old she was speaking to.

This was one of the most irritating of people I had ever come across. It was as if she was the five-year-old. This whole encounter was pretty humiliating, and heck, I can imagine some pretty embarrassing situations to be in!

Boy: Go away, go away, go away!

(There is a knock at the bedroom door)
Mother: Andrew, it's time to get up!
Boy: No, don't come in!

Boy: I said don't come in!
Mother: You'll be late for the school bus- (Gasps in surprise) Andrew!
Boy: Mom-
(Mother backs out of the room awkwardly)

Jingle: #Morning wood, morning wood. How do you solve a problem like morning wood?#
Boy: Why do you come at the worst possible times?!

Jingle: #Its presence in the morning is unexplained, and sometimes you'd wish it would go away! But if you stay in bed and treat it right, your morning wood can make your day!#

Upon coming downstairs, I overheard a voice speaking to Eric in the hallway.

"I bet you could do a dance with those enormous pecs of yours, butch! Have you ever thought of modelling?"
"Modelling schmodelling," Eric said to dismiss any catwalk prospects.
"I could organise your own private photo shoot," the rogue continued, "just for you, handsome."
"Listen, you can either agree voluntarily, or I can whip my slender wand out and teach you some hard, firm respect."

"I thought you said your nemesis was a witch," I recalled inquisitively, "unless he has cast some gender spell on him/herself."
"Mhm, he likes to dabble between the names; witch and warlock," she said, "but honestly, most of the time Claudius doesn't know whether he's coming or going."
"So what do I call him?" I asked.
"Officially he's a Callous Warlock," she answered, "or C'ock for short."

And there he stood before us. I didn't suspect that he'd leave quietly, so I was preparing myself for my first ever supernatural duel.

"What are we going to do to stop him?" I asked naively.
"Not die," Mistress Gretel replied ominously.
"Well that's reassuring information!" I growled. "You don't even have a plan, do you?"
"Quiet, tinchy. Of course I have a plan up my sleeve."

"Surely you love flaunting that gift of a body in front of people," Warlock Claudius mused.
"You mean these abs of steel that I work out twice a day for? Nahh," Eric denied smugly.
"Come, let daddy take a peek."

"Is he always this pervy?" I asked Mistress Gretel.
"Indeed he is," she replied, "and that's a good enough reason why you don't want him succeeding me!"
"Is there... anything else you'd care to show me in private?" Warlock Claudius questioned Eric.
"I don't know why he doesn't just cut the torment of his foreplay and just cast his Buttockius Nudio spell," Mistress Gretel mumbled.

"ERIC!" Mistress Gretel screeched. "Why are you consorting with the enemy? Get over here!"
"Gretel, heyyy! How is my lovely lady this afternoon?" Eric turned around and said, "Is that a new hat you're sporting there? Wow, it makes the mole on your cheek ever more arousing."
"Oh pur-lease! She looks just as much as a tart as ever!" a jealous Claudius spat, resenting the diverted attention. "She couldn't look more of a tart if we wrapped her up in pastry and baked her in an oven!"
"Why is Eric chatting you up? You don't seem to be his type," I said, quizzing Mistress Gretel.
"Claudius' sleaze and campness often rubs off on you, so watch out," she mumbled to me aside, "but it does wear off quickly."

"Enough jibber jabber! It's time for you to fulfil your part of our deal!"
"What delights have you got for me today, angel face?" Eric asked.

With a swish of her wand, Mistress Gretel had cast an enchantment over her conspiring partner.

After the transformation, Eric was still a slobbering Neanderthal! Except now she probably added twenty points to his IQ score.

The giant Sasquatch gave a tremendous grunt.

"Now put those muscles to use and attack him!" ordered Mistress Gretel.

The monster roared in response and obediently followed her word. He grasped the C'ock tight within his hands, and began to launch him into the air.

"Put me down, you stinking buffoon!" the Warlock cried, wavering about in mid-air.
"You heard him, put him down," instructed Mistress Gretel.

"Hey, you can fly pretty far without a broomstick," Gretel cackled whilst facing her beaten foe.
"You'll regret that, hag!" he spat.

Watching the powerful Warlock defeated on the floor made me realise how humiliated he must have felt. This had to be more cringe worthy than the ridiculous plethora of headache-inducing puns found on daytime TV.

Presenter: Welcome back to Cash in the Attic, where we raid people's homes to find tacky antiques to bring to auction, in the hope of selling them to naive halfwits. Our family today is the Milburn family of West London, and behind me is their manor. But what disposable treasures can we find behind these doors this afternoon?

Narration (Presenter): Sally is a forty-three-year-old Archaeologist, originally from Kent. She is currently out of work and is looking for some extra cash to help her along whilst her career lies in ruins. What great finds can our expert Kenneth dig up and dust off in her lovely abode?

Expert: So what have you got to show me, Sally?
Sally: This is part of my collection of Ming vases, and I'd be happy to let one go for a bit of money.
Expert: You'd be a bit potty to sell a Ming vase at auction, Sally. Such a priceless item requires a specialist sale.
Sally: Where would be best to sell it?
Expert: Try Ebay.

Expert: AHOY THERE! What else have we got here?
Sally: This is something that my great grandfather fished out of the sea just off the Spanish coastline, decades ago. It has been in my family for several generations, but it doesn't have much of a place in my modern home any more. What do you think of it?
Expert: I have a sinking feeling that this one will just weigh us down. It looks like a piece of junk; it smells like a piece of junk. Let's take it to auction! Let's just hope that somebody from the National Museum turns up to bid on it!

Narration: So will it be plain sailing or anchors aweigh for our buoyant family later at auction?

Narration: Elsewhere on deck, I visit Harold, a Yorkshire-bred policeman who's going on fifty, to take a look at some highly cherished garden sculptures.

Presenter: Tell me about this gorgeous figure, Harold.
Harold: This garden ornament was imported from the South coast of mainland China during the First World War. I'm rather reluctant to let it go, as I inherited it from my mother when she passed away last year.
Presenter: In that case, I might have some persuasive news for you. Kenneth tells me that he estimates this beastly statue somewhere between 1 penny and 10,000 simoleons.
Harold: Wow, it could get 10,000 simoleons?
Presenter: It could. It could also get 1 penny, or anywhere in between.
Harold: I'm impressed at such a precise value. It makes going to auction all the more worthwhile.
Presenter: How do you feel about selling it now?
Harold: Let's go for it!

Narration: Will the Chinese lion sculpture be a roaring success, or a catastrophic disappointment? Let's see what else our cubs have ventured upon.

Presenter: Kenneth and I were very surprised earlier when we spotted this incredibly rare monument standing in your garden. Tell me something about it.
Harold: It's a Canadian hand-carved statue. I'm unsure about how it came into our hands, and it's more my wife's statue than mine. I can't bear the sight of it.
Presenter: At first, we valued the carving between 3,000 and 4,000 simoleons. It's an unbearably tempting offer, isn't it?
Harold: Aye, that is amazing!
Presenter: ...Until we found the same statue in an Argos catalogue, causing its estimate to plummet to a working-class value of 50 simoleons.
Harold: Oh dear.
Presenter: The question boils down to whether you could bear to see it go, for mere pennies!
Harold: Easily. It's a rather grizzly sight for the eyes.

Narration: As Harold and I paws for thought regarding the real worth of the bear statue, Sally and Kenneth toy with the idea of flogging some of Sally's childhood pastimes.

Expert: What do we have here, Sally?
Sally: This is my personal collection of beloved childhood toys.
Expert: How far back do they date?
Sally: Pre-1940s, I believe.
Expert: And how much would you value them?
Sally: They have a lot of sentimental value to me, as I've had them since a child. I've never valued them for how much they'd sell for though.
Expert: Well let me tell you that these toys are vintage masterpieces. Together, they're worth thousands of simoleons.
Sally: (Gasps) Really?!
Expert: No, not really. They're just plastic toys, you moron.

Presenter: It turns out that Sally's great grandfather also uncovered the wreckage of a pirate ship during his sailing days, and the renovated remains have been sitting in the garden of their family estate for generations. After polishing it up, it remains a well-kempt eyesore for the neighbours, and a major conflict with the local council development offices. Who wood have thought it, eh?

Narration: So will our expectant duo be sailing full mast into the auction room, or will they both end up walking the plank at the end of the day?

Zach: Oh come on! That last part wasn't even relevant!
Jamie: How much do you think the anchor will go for?
Zach: ...Not a lot. It's just a clump of metal.
Jamie: Well you say that, but sometimes they get some surprises on these shows. I personally think the bear sculpture will make the most profit.
Zach: I'm sure they'll claw in plenty cash. Oh, damn it!

Callous Warlock Claudius was eager to strike his revenge for the earlier serving of humiliation. The fight was certainly on, as Claudius cast a rather ghoulish surprise upon us.

"GHOSTS!" I screamed, as a cavalcade of haunting spirits emerged from thin air, heading towards us. "I don't want to die!"
Claudius chortled loudly, foreseeing an easy defeat, "Take that, you halfwit mortal!"
"Wait a minute... They're just transparent ghouls," I stated, overcoming my fear. "I can see straight through your plan, Claudius! Damn it, there I go again with the puns!"
"He's just trying to intimidate us," Mistress Gretel grumbled.
"What's the worst a few transparent ghosts can do to us?" I asked.

"Take that, you youthful body-dweller, you!"
"Oh no, water! He might splash me to death!"

"Go find an apparition your own size to pick on!"

Meanwhile Bigfoot, or rather Eric, was challenging Warlock Claudius to a bout of fisticuffs.

"You'll never defeat me in a game of fisticuffs, Yeti!" Claudius taunted, provoking a grunt from the beast.

"Not before I beat you off with my Manbag!" Claudius yelled camply. "Now vanish, before you make me break a nail!"

"Well that was my plan. What have you got?" mumbled Mistress Gretel, expecting me to have prepared something in the five minutes between dragging me out of the shower and thrusting me in front of a reckless Warlock.

The tides were apparently turning, as Claudius no longer had any eye-candy distractions, and the door was open for him to spell revenge on Gretel.

"YAHAHAHA! Your plan stinks!" Claudius hollered.

"That must be why the flies all like you, hag!" he bellowed from across the hallway.

"Oh no! Killer midges!"

The monstrous swarm of flies grew and engulfed the helpless witch. What was I going to do? Panic rushed through my arteries, but I couldn't do anything to beat off the evil Warlock. But if I let him win, who knows how much painful seduction he will torture me with?

The grim reaper made a passing visit to collect Gretel's soul, but I begged on my knees for her renewal.

"Pleeeeaasse! I don't think I can take any more of his camp innuendos!" I pleaded, abandoning my dignity for that one minute. "Why would you want to subject anybody to his continuous flirting? Please, if you take her, you'll leave me vulnerable to him!"

"If you can guess what I ate for breakfast, then you can have her back," he replied.
"Erm... nothing, otherwise I'd be able to see it, through your transparent body," I answered.
"Congratulations, you win! You'd be surprised how many people overlook the obvious when I ask them that. They're usually too busy howling over the ashes of their loved ones to notice," the Grim Reaper ranted. "I've got a hectic schedule lined up for me everyday, yet nobody appreciates how busy I am! They're always too engrossed in sulking over the deceased. My job is soul-destroying, do you realise that?"
"Anyhow, that's your one chance card used. There won't be a resurrection next time."

"Zach! I've never been happier to see your little baby face!" a newly-resurrected Gretel cried. "We have to show our solidarity and defeat this evil menace, once and for all!"
"We can't let him keep playing us like this!" I said.

"Oh pur-lease, that was so boring! You wouldn't be entertaining if you farted a fireworks display from your anus! Actually, that sounds like a marvellous spell to research... Rectumio exploda!" he cackled obnoxiously. "Time for round three?"

"Oh no! Invisible quicksand!"

"Help me, Zachary!" she yelped gravely. There was nothing I could do but watch the floorboards devour her feeble body.

She was gone!

"Now with that batty hag out of the scene, there'll be plenty more screen-time for just you and I, Zachy!" he hooted

I was reluctant to believe what had happened! I was in more denial about her being gone than a homophobic mother refusing to believe that her son was gay. Yikes!

Mother: Ryan has been behaving rather strangely recently, sneaking about and not returning home until hours beyond curfew.
Friend: Maybe he's begun courting somebody?
Mother: That's what I'm worried about. I think he's hiding his girlfriend from me, and I'm anxious that he'll do something silly amongst all this secrecy, and maybe even get her pregnant!
Friend: What makes you think that?
Mother: I was snooping on his computer last week whilst he was at school, and his message history was very revealing.

Mother: (Reading text on the screen) What's this?
Derek: R U free 2nite?
Ryan: Yh, u wanna come round my house?
Derek: Mayb we cud go watch a film at th drive-in and get busy afta, if u get wot i mean! :)
Ryan: Woohoo?
Derek: Yh, just state da obvious m8

Mother: (Dramatic gasp) He's going to woohoo this girl?

Mother: I mean, what kind of a name is 'Derek' for a girl?
Friend: Her parents must be Welsh or something.
Mother: I also found nude pictures of men in his drawers this morning, which I obviously have the right to snoop through. Privacy rules don't apply to parents. And these pictures? His girlfriend must have left them behind last week.
Friend: This girl sounds like trouble to me!
Mother: This has been going on for months though. I just know it. I read through his diary last week and came across some suspicious entries.

"May 6th: I came out to my friends at school today. They looked quite surprised when I told them, but they must have been faking a reaction. They were suspicious that hunkybunny and I were dating all along."

Mother: (Dramatic gasp) They came out to their friends as a couple a month ago, but failed to tell me? Why is he hiding this from me?

Mother: I was spying on him a few nights ago, and his relationship must be moving quickly. Just then he was asking his friend for advice on kissing techniques!

Derek: (Muffled) Oh Ryan, I love you!

Mother: He could have just practised in front of the mirror, instead of troubling his mate!

Friend: Have you caught him in the act yet?
Mother: No, but I found some shocking evidence in his wardrobe today, whilst snooping through his personal things. Which, as a mother, I have the right to snoop through.
Friend: Ooh, come on, dish the dirt!
Mother: Amongst the High School musical T-shirts, Daniel Radcliffe posters and Madonna CDs, I found a frying pan on his wall!

Mother: He has been sizzling sausage in his bedroom!

Friend: This can only point to one thing, Susan. Your son is hiding a mystery girl!
Mother: I realise that now.
Friend: Well done on reaching all the right conclusions by yourself. If this was my son, I wouldn't have suspected a thing!

Later that day...

Mother: What's this?
(She inspects a photograph of her son caressing a girl)
Mother: Oh my word... is he looking at her face and not her chest? That's not normal! (Dramatic gasp) Is Ryan gay?!

"I rule this campus now, mortal! Defy me and all of your friends will pay!" he boomed, as he launched into the sky. "And I can fly far without a broomstick, eh? YA-HA-HA-HAAA!"

His eeire cackle faded as he rocketed into the distance. Academie Le Tour university was no longer the haven it once was, now that new supernatural powers reign over it. My days of darkness were only beginning.

Well, not just yet. There was still a ray of sunshine in my life.

"Jamie said you wanted to see me for something?" Hannah asked as she strolled into my room.

My heart skipped a beat. Her beauty was striking.

"Well, er, mhm-" I stammered.
"I just wanted to ask-" I began, before stumbling again. "I mean, I was just thinking about what happened during lunch, and-"
Hannah laughed nervously and said, "Don't listen to that Barbershop nonsense."
"I know you know that I know about my feelings for me. For you, I mean!" I'd turned into a babbling fool.
"What I'm trying to tell you is..." come on Zach, you can say it! "I like you."
"I like you too, Zach, but is that all you asked me up here for?" Hannah responded, perhaps missing my point.
"I'd like to ask you out on a date," I finally spurted out.

Her face flushed and brought colour to her beautiful cheeks. "It's taken a year for you to finally ask me out?" she laughed.
"Er, I didn't know what you'd say-"
"I'd say 'yes', silly! I've been waiting all this time for you to work up the guts to ask me. Have you only just realised this?"
"I, er, well-"
Hannah giggled and made a proposal, "How about you take me out for a meal one night this week?"
"Then I guess that's a date!" she exclaimed. "Don't you have the quarterback tryouts to get to?"

Of course, the tryouts! I had been so distracted all day that I'd forgotten about them. I must have been blind not to realise that my feelings for Hannah were reciprocal! I had been as ignorant as an indifferent father is whilst neglecting their child on holiday.

Father: Go play in the pool whilst daddy has a rest, honey.

Girl: Daddy, daddy! Watch me jump into the pool!
Father: I'm watch, honey plum.

Girl: (Screaming) AHH, DADDY!

Father: I'm still watching, pumpkin.

Girl: Daddy, there's a strange man and he's huuurting me!
Father: Yes, that was a lovely cannonball, honey.

Girl: (Screaming) Help, Daddy!

Father: We'll go for ice cream later, darling.

Father: And don't go off with any strangers, honey. Let daddy get some shut-eye now.

After an exhausting day, and with the football having gone rather well, I was ready for today's second shower and to wind down for the evening (and catch up on the lectures I missed this afternoon!)

But my day wasn't quite over yet.

"AHH!" I jumped an inch from the ground.
"Why hello, sailor," Claudius greeted me, shooting me a wink and violating my nude body with his perving eyes. "I thought I'd pay you another visit, sugar. You'll be seeing much more of me from now on."
"Can you please just leave me alone?" I begged. I detested this guy.
"But I don't think there's much more of you to see," he said. His eyes wandered down south and he looked surprised. "Is... Is that it?"

He was abusing my privacy and I was sickened by it. This felt extremely awkward, and even more so than that close shave I had with Hannah a while back.

(A violent knock is heard at the door)

Hannah: ZACH! GET UP!

Hannah: Zach, you're going to be late for your practical assessment!
Zach: (Mumbles sleepily) Let me just snooze for five more minutes...
Hannah: Don't make me come in there and get you out of bed!
Zach: NO, don't come in!
Hannah: Then hurry up!
Zach: Hold on, I'll be out in a minute.

Zach: You again?!

"What have you come for?" I said, trying to look brave in front of this old violet.
"I've come to tell you that you're now my bitch," he asserted.
"I'm not your piece of meat," I retorted. "And if I stand up to you?"
"Then be prepared to say goodbye to those closest to you, Romeo," he threatened maliciously. "The nice guy never wins, Zach. Not even you."

And with a final uncomfortable glance at my physique, he was off.