Post by TUESDAY DAVENPORT on May 17, 2010 21:16:20 GMT -5
The strobe lights flashed ostentatiously, meandering back and forth across the room and blinding those in their paths. Overhead, disco balls flashed blazing colors and patterns over the ceilings and walls, in eerie synchronization with the forceful beat of the music, like a loud bowling ball knocking against the walls of the building and shaking the floor. Up in a dimly lit overhead booth, a DJ spun a CD serenely, reaching for arbitrary levers and buttons every so often to adjust the sound. It might as well have been an aurora borealis, a pastoral collage of vibrant colors and quiet, controlled pandemonium.
In a far-removed corner from the bustle and hubbub of the main dance floor, a lone, pitch black figure crouched beneath a table of forlorn-looking prawns and cream-cheese puffs. His right hand clutched a large bottle of Pepsi, bubbles rising upwards towards the surface as the hand jerked the plastic back and forth across his body in erratic motions. As the arm shook the bottle the figure rose from its knees to a crouching position, like a panther poised to spring.
Shink.
The bottle shot through the air like a dagger, splashing right in the center of the dance floor with a modest kerPLUNK. The figure straightened a black bandana around its mouth, which fluttered upwards with every exhale of air. The screams and gasps of consternation began to distinguish themselves from the overall uproar as the splash of liquid on floor, dress, and shoe echoed throughout the walls of the voluminous Student Center. And then a single, piercing, shrill screech of a voice. “Under the table! Look! It’s a kid!”
Ah. Time to leave.
In the blink of an eye, Tuesday Davenport was beneath the large staircase winding upwards towards the DJ booth. He peered out, giggling at his own ingenuity. “Ohohoo, shit,” he murmured to himself, as some girl faceplanted into the floor, screaming face immersed in the bubbling liquid. And he’d come up with that, too. All by his lonesome.
Ha, that was a funny phrase. Tuesday allowed himself a giggle, then refocused his attention, flipping his wrist upwards and checking the numbers that glared at him from the face of his clock. 9:30 already, damnit. Where was she?
“Aaaaand for my next trick,” Tuesday muttered contentedly, tearing the bandana from his face and bobbing his head to the muffled music from outside.
In a far-removed corner from the bustle and hubbub of the main dance floor, a lone, pitch black figure crouched beneath a table of forlorn-looking prawns and cream-cheese puffs. His right hand clutched a large bottle of Pepsi, bubbles rising upwards towards the surface as the hand jerked the plastic back and forth across his body in erratic motions. As the arm shook the bottle the figure rose from its knees to a crouching position, like a panther poised to spring.
Shink.
The bottle shot through the air like a dagger, splashing right in the center of the dance floor with a modest kerPLUNK. The figure straightened a black bandana around its mouth, which fluttered upwards with every exhale of air. The screams and gasps of consternation began to distinguish themselves from the overall uproar as the splash of liquid on floor, dress, and shoe echoed throughout the walls of the voluminous Student Center. And then a single, piercing, shrill screech of a voice. “Under the table! Look! It’s a kid!”
Ah. Time to leave.
In the blink of an eye, Tuesday Davenport was beneath the large staircase winding upwards towards the DJ booth. He peered out, giggling at his own ingenuity. “Ohohoo, shit,” he murmured to himself, as some girl faceplanted into the floor, screaming face immersed in the bubbling liquid. And he’d come up with that, too. All by his lonesome.
Ha, that was a funny phrase. Tuesday allowed himself a giggle, then refocused his attention, flipping his wrist upwards and checking the numbers that glared at him from the face of his clock. 9:30 already, damnit. Where was she?
“Aaaaand for my next trick,” Tuesday muttered contentedly, tearing the bandana from his face and bobbing his head to the muffled music from outside.
