What the M A T H *THURSDAY*

[GEORGIANA 'PIG' SPENCER]

OUTFIT OF LA BRIGHT PIG


"I prefer to be called Pig, if you please." Georgiana 'Pig' Spencer informed her English teacher, bracing the straps of her back pack for dear life. Did the school really find it necessary to put her in the Senior English Class? Was there even a difference between Junior and Senior English? Ugh, American Schools were so complicated. But then again, perhaps they would find schooling in the U.K. to be a bit of a challenge. The moral of that story: The grass is in fact, not always greener.

Everything had a moral, if you knew how to look at it.

After staring at her incredulity (after all, how does one get Pig out of Georgiana), the Teacher waved her to her table, which it would seem she'd be sharing with a surly sort of fellow. Which was fine with Pig, who despite her bright attire was not a chatty person by nature. Surly meant that he wouldn't be talkative. Pulling a notebook and pen out of her Penguin backpack, which sat at her moonbooted feet, Pig stared forward and waited for class to begin.

And it did. She started to take careful notes, but was short stopped by the actual assignment.

Holy Lazy Teacher Batman...

Apparently this two seater desk thing had some purpose. Group work. They were suppose to write a cooperative essay on their interpretation of the book they were assigned, and make a poster board to go with the presentation, when it would be read aloud for the class. Fantastic. Pig looked over carefully at the boy she sat next too. Lanky, with nice hair, and sad eyes. But he didn't look the ambitious sort, which did not sit well with Pig. But then again, neither did she. Tugging at the dog collar (not a spike collar or anything like that. It had actually belonged to her passed on Dog, Pepper) nervously, she waited for their book to be assigned.

Of course, Alice in Wonderland. Go figure the Brit would get that book.

The teacher began grading test papers or what have you, leaving the class to begin there work. Her careful eyes stared at her partner closely, trying to get a feel. "I'm Pig. Have you read this book before?" Her southern English accent inquired, lilting a little as she spoke her usual monotone. "If you have, it'll make the assignment go a lot faster."

[THURSDAY DAVENPORT]

Thursday didn't want to be here.

There were so many better things he could be doing. Not that English was his favorite class or anything, but group projects, ugh. He had always done group projects with Tuesday, and it was kind of bothersome to think he might get a stupid asshat for a partner who'd want him to do all the work or wouldn't share his opinions. Tuesday and Thursday were of the same mind, so it was a lot easier for them to do a project together...or blow it off together. Either way, the decisions were usually mutual.

Still not completely recovered from his depression, Thursday was as unusually quiet as he'd been for a while, but it seemed like people were JUST starting to notice. When he'd entered the classroom, the teacher had even gone so far as to stop him and ask him if he was feeling alright.

He'd lied, of course, but he was feeling better than before. At least that nagging feeling of uselessness wasn't pulling at him as consistently.

Still, Thursday found he was retaining the complete lack of shit-giving.

Had a version of Thursday a few months younger seen the way he was dressed today, Younger Thursday would have throttled Current Thursday until the latter agreed to change into something nicer (he made fashion kind of a big deal at times). He was dressed almost completely in black: black skinny jeans, black boots, black jacket, gray v-neck, all of it generally quite bland and absent of the usual patterns, silly socks, interesting scarves, or umbrellas Thursday usually used to have on himself.

Fortunately, Younger Thursday wasn't around, and Current Thursday didn't really give a shit what he looked like.

He didn't really notice that the British girl had taken a seat beside him before she started talking; then he looked up. Immediately, he acknowledged in the back of his head that she was attractive. Nice hair. Cute nose. Pretty accent. But...Pig? Was that really her name?

"Uh," he said, looking away from her after a moment. "I'm Thursday. And yeah, I've read the book. It's one of my favorites." "One of my favorites" entailing it was one of the few books Thursday read of his own volition.

[GEORGIANA 'PIG' SPENCER]

She braced herself for it. That stupid question: Is your name really Pig? Of course it wasn't! Who on God's green earth would name their child Pig? Honestly, people were so stupid sometimes, it was unbelievable. "Uh," Her eyebrow arched at him a little, as she waited for him to compile his words into a functional sentence. "I'm Thursday. And yeah, I've read the book. It's one of my favorites." She blinked at him twice, in surprise. He didn't ask? That was... interesting. She gave him a thoughtful look, nodding a little at his reply. Well, perhaps this would not be completely horrible.

Back home she was rather well known for these snap decisions. In a matter of seconds Pig would decide if she liked someone, or if she didn't. And once her mind was made up, it rarely changed. "Well. Righto then." She replied, readying her pen. "And what do you think is the meaning behind Alice in Wonderland? Rampant drug use, like the rest?" She offered a very slight smile, though it didn't really reach past her full lips. Most people thought it was about LSD. But that was stupid, as lsd was made in the late nineteen forties, and the book was written in the late eighteen hundreds. They weren't even in the same century, though it could be argued that that hardly mattered, as they were about a half a century apart in birth. Or creation. However you wanted to put it.

She studied the boy, unabashedly. She had never been shy about such things. He was quite her opposite, truth be told, besides solemn gazes and dark hair. He wore black, and her current outfit ventured in every color of the rainbow. He was quite tall, she was quite petite. So on, so forth. She wondered why he hadn't inquired about her name. Annoying though it may be, it was what Pig had come to expect. Perhaps he was merely use to people inquiring about his own name. Thursday. She was almost certain that was not a nickname. It would be quite obnoxious of her to ask. Best to let it be.

[THURSDAY DAVENPORT]

Her surprised little blinks were a little perplexing to Thursday; he didn't consider it too deeply, but he supposed it might be because he hadn't questioned her introducing herself as 'Pig.' The truth behind that was that Thursday really didn't care. He and his brother were named after days of the week. His roommate was named after a month. If 'Pig' was what this girl wanted to be called, more power to her. "Well. Righto then." He offered her a slightly bleak smile. "And what do you think is the meaning behind Alice in Wonderland? Rampant drug use, like the rest?"

"Well, uh..." Oh, the rare intellectual moments Thursday was wont to have. He felt one coming on. "No, I don't think it's all about drug use. There's a lot of support that Carroll was on drugs, but whatever. I feel like you couldn't write something like that if you were that stoned." He smirked a little bit, looking at nothing in particular, thinking. "Personally, I've always kinda liked it for the rhyming poems and stuff, but...there's, like, a shit-ton of symbolism in there if you look. I've read a bunch of stuff about it online and figured some of it out myself." He shrugged, hoping she wouldn't tease him for getting too intellectual.

After a moment, he started studying this girl again, observing her brightly colored outfit (he found it rather fetching), her face, her hair, her expression. She really did seem taken aback he hadn't asked about the whole 'Pig' thing. Maybe he should ask just to satisfy her.

He brushed his hair out of his face a little bit and looked up at her (he'd been kind of slouched over the table, elbow on the desktop, chin in hand). "So, like, I know you're expecting me to ask about your name," he said after a moment, kind of quietly. "I'm guessing it's a nickname, since no parent would ever name their kid Pig. That's like...like...naming a puppy 'Human.' Who does that?" The conversation was bringing back a little bit of the old Thursday, though in the absence of his brother he was a bit quieter and more condescending than usual.

[GEORGIANA 'PIG' SPENCER]

He seemed to consider for a moment, which was a comfort. "Well, uh... No, I don't think it's all about drug use. There's a lot of support that Carroll was on drugs, but whatever. I feel like you couldn't write something like that if you were that stoned." She cocked her head slightly, her eyes a little questioning. She was lucky to enjoy a can of soda, what with Mary Anne constantly breathing down her neck. So she had never experienced any drug of any sort. "Personally, I've always kinda liked it for the rhyming poems and stuff, but...there's, like, a shit-ton of symbolism in there if you look. I've read a bunch of stuff about it online and figured some of it out myself." He mentioned liking the poetry, and she nodded, as if approving of this statement. She loved poetry, especially when it made you wonder. It could actually be counted as one of her passions.

Keeping the conversation going, she piped up, her gentle voice joining the conversation. "Well, I always found Charles Dodgson, in everything I've read about him to be, well, a bit of a nerd really. He was a very conservative Anglican deacon and professor of mathematics. My guess is he didn't have very much game... Well... unless you count Alice herself. But that's rather creepy, innit?" It was an attempt at humor, though it sounded more musing than anything else.

There was a moment of silence, and she did hope her bad joke didn't cause it. This was one of the reasons Pig preferred to work alone. Talking just wasn't her thing. "So, like, I know you're expecting me to ask about your name, I'm guessing it's a nickname, since no parent would ever name their kid Pig. That's like...like...naming a puppy 'Human.' Who does that?"

A very short laugh came from Pig, though it ended quite quickly. In fact, she looked rather startled that it had escaped her at all. Instead of addressing that, she moved to answer his question, nodding slightly, a bit of her hair falling out of her yellow scarf and into her face. "Well, you would think that it would be quite simple for people to put that together, wouldn't you? But, then again, most are twits. Rather annoying, really." She shrugged a little, but nodded. "It wasn't like I wanted you to ask, I was merely surprised that you didn't. It was.... a pleasant surprise that my name wasn't the first sunect out of your mouth." She tried for another smile, this one a bit wider than her first attempt. "Though I suppose with a name like Thursday, you're use to people asking about names yourself."

[THURSDAY DAVENPORT]

"Well, I always found Charles Dodgson, in everything I've read about him to be, well, a bit of a nerd really. He was a very conservative Anglican deacon and professor of mathematics. My guess is he didn't have very much game... Well... unless you count Alice herself. But that's rather creepy, innit?"

Ohh, so she really did know what she was talking about. Well, this report was going to be easy, at least. He smiled a little bit, the first time he'd smiled genuinely in a hell of a long time.

"Yeah, and the mathematics stuff apparently shows up like all the time. I read somewhere that Alice in Wonderland is a satire...about new mathematics or something. Maybe it was something else. I don't remember." He shrugged, sitting back in his seat. "Anyway, yeah, his love for Alice was just...really kinda disturbing, you know?" A brief laugh left him, and he looked up at the ceiling. "But they're both long gone now."

He watched her for a moment, studying her movements. "Well, you would think that it would be quite simple for people to put that together, wouldn't you? But, then again, most are twits. Rather annoying, really."

Thursday laughed. "Holla."

"It wasn't like I wanted you to ask, I was merely surprised that you didn't. It was.... a pleasant surprise that my name wasn't the first sunect out of your mouth. Though I suppose with a name like Thursday, you're use to people asking about names yourself."

"I've gotten a few weird looks, yeah." He chuckled, mostly to himself, and ran a hand through his hair. "My brother's name is Tuesday, so we're both pretty used to getting a few raised eyebrows. But whatever." He shrugged. "Anyway, I figured if you want to be called Pig, you're allowed. It's, like...a free country, after all. I could call myself...like...Ozymandias K. Leviathan if I wanted to, and nobody could stop me. So." His eyes fixed on her again, and he offered a small smile.

[GEORGIANA 'PIG' SPENCER]

He spoke easily, but he seemed to lack confidence about the things he said. It was rather annoying really. Not like oh-I-can't-stand-it annoying. More have-some-damn-confidence-in-your-bloody-words-mate. "Yeah, and the mathematics stuff apparently shows up like all the time. I read somewhere that Alice in Wonderland is a satire...about new mathematics or something. Maybe it was something else. I don't remember."

She nodded, trying not to sound impatient with how he seemed to almost take it back. It was bloody impressive that he knew that, dammit. Her biggest fear was that she was going to be working with some lazed out acid head, and here he was being fucking intelligent and was almost tip toeing around it. "I think I might have read that somewhere as well." At least her tone was, well, toneless. She doubted sounding impatient would help so much with his verbal ballet dance. But some gentle prodding might be in order, for the sake of her own patience quota. "You know, it actually sounds like you know what you're talking about. Try saying it with some conviction mate. I promise not to let it out that you read." Mmm, yeah, gentle. Like burlap.

"Anyway, yeah, his love for Alice was just...really kinda disturbing, you know? But they're both long gone now." He muttered, looking up at the ceiling.

She nodded, concurring with this. "And I doubt the Profess- erm, Teacher would take to kindly at us calling a celebrated author a pedophile for our report would help us too much marks wise, huh?" Despite her blase demeanor, Pig actually cared a great deal about her grades. The better grades she got, the more likely she would be able to go to a University, and create as much distance between her and her family as she could.

"I've gotten a few weird looks, yeah. "My brother's name is Tuesday, so we're both pretty used to getting a few raised eyebrows. But whatever. Anyway, I figured if you want to be called Pig, you're allowed. It's, like...a free country, after all. I could call myself...like...Ozymandias K. Leviathan if I wanted to, and nobody could stop me. So." He wasn't exactly the most eloquent person she had ever spoken to, that was for sure. But there was something rather likable about him. And that was saying something for Pig.

"Eh, Twads would just try and nose around a bit, try and figure out what the K. stood for. Best just to stick with Thursday, it suits you." For the first time, her true smile came out, a sideways smirk that curled on the left side of her cheek. An impish grin, her Father called it, when he took the time to take note. Clearing her throat a little, she turned back to the book, flipping over to Through the Looking Glass, and further into it until she got to The Walrus and The Carpenter. "You know, as much fun as it would be to write about how much of a tightwad nerdy bugger Carroll was we could go a different route. I mean, it's suppose to be our interpretation of the books, right?" Setting the book down, she unzipped her back pack and pulled her iPod out of a pocket. "I mean, the assignment is bullocks, if you think on it. Our interpretation. So long as we dot our i's and cross our t's, we can do as we please mate. We could go John Lennon's route and say The Walrus and The Carpenter is an indictment of capitalism, and that the Walrus is a huge villain." She laughed a little, though this one did not end so abruptly.

[THURSDAY DAVENPORT]

Honestly, Thursday wasn't so self-confident when his brother wasn't around; it was like some vital part of him was missing, and it made him withdraw a little bit. Around Tuesday, he could be as crazy and unintelligent as he wanted, since they were, like, a totally dynamic duo, after all...or they had been. He was hoping they were going to go back to that now that all the...well...fantastically crappy times were over. Or, he hoped they were over. Or...

Ah, screw this, he was just confusing himself.

"I think I might have read that somewhere as well." Her voice was a bit...monotone, was that the right word? Was she trying not to sound some other way? "You know, it actually sounds like you know what you're talking about. Try saying it with some conviction mate. I promise not to let it out that you read."

Urk. She caught him.

"Er...yeah, sorry," he muttered, trying not to seem scolded. "I'm not, y'know, a huge reader or anything, but yeah...I like this book. I'll try not to be so...er...un...convictive." He chuckled kind of sheepishly and scratched the back of his neck with one hand, ducking his head a little bit. Wow, definitely not the most eloquent thing you've said today, Thursday.

She was nodding in agreement with his statement about the pedophilia. "And I doubt the Profess- erm, Teacher would take to kindly at us calling a celebrated author a pedophile for our report would help us too much marks wise, huh?"

"There are some totally weird authors out there, but yeah, I don't think the Teach would be tickled too pink if we focused our project on what a huge pedo this guy was." He was smiling a lot more than he had remembered smiling in a while. That was a nice development. It felt good to smile and laugh again.

"Eh, Twads would just try and nose around a bit, try and figure out what the K. stood for. Best just to stick with Thursday, it suits you."

"The K stands for Klaus, but don't tell anyone," he leaned in and almost whispered, and for once, his own smile was a genuine Thursday smile as well; mischievous, devilish, and playful. He admired her own smirk before leaning back again. It was almost weird that he felt so at ease with this girl.

"You know, as much fun as it would be to write about how much of a tightwad nerdy bugger Carroll was we could go a different route. I mean, it's suppose to be our interpretation of the books, right?" He nodded as she took out her iPod.

"Yeah, it'd be pretty damn boring if we just, like...talked about math the whole time. I mean, who's interested in that? Besides math teachers." Thursday shrugged, still smiling a little bit. 'Bugger.' The British slang was cool.

"I mean, the assignment is bullocks, if you think on it. Our interpretation. So long as we dot our i's and cross our t's, we can do as we please mate. We could go John Lennon's route and say The Walrus and The Carpenter is an indictment of capitalism, and that the Walrus is a huge villain."

"You'll have to check me, then, because sometimes I forget to cross my t's," he said, smirking. It wasn't meant to be a serious statement, or even a serious joke - just Thursday fooling around a bit as he always did. "The assignment is obviously bull. Most school assignments are," he added. "Like...I'd do a lot better in school if it could hold my freakin' attention." He rolled his eyes slightly before continuing, his eyes watching his pencil as he tapped it against the desk. "Well, yeah, the Walrus is obviously the villain. The Carpenter's just an average joe, kinda. It's like...like the Walrus is the big corporate business guy who lies to all the people and then eats them alive, right? Charming metaphor." He feighed a shiver. "Anyway, my favorite poem is the one about Tweedledee and Tweedledum. What're your thoughts on that one?" Taking the copy of Through the Looking-Glass, he flipped forward a couple of pages to the poem that began 'Tweedledee and Tweedledum agreed to have a battle.' "You think it's what it says it is, or another metaphor?"

[GEORGIANA 'PIG' SPENCER]

He looked quite put on the spot, at Pig's insistence that he save the verbal tap dancing for later. She almost felt bad. "Er...yeah, sorry, I'm not, y'know, a huge reader or anything, but yeah...I like this book. I'll try not to be so...er...un...convictive." His voice was low, and Pig had to force the guilt to her gut. He looked like he was the shy sort, or at the very least an adventurous soul who had taken on a shy persona. It hardly seemed right to pick on him.

But on the other hand she was right. There was nothing more annoying than a smart person pretending they weren't smart. "Thank you." She mumbled back, looking away for a moment. Who was she to judge Thursday for not wanting to get super into a stupid assignment? Not that she had ever minded telling a person what was wrong with them that they didn't know about.

"There are some totally weird authors out there, but yeah, I don't think the Teach would be tickled too pink if we focused our project on what a huge pedo this guy was." She smiled a bit, at the term 'tickled pink'. It was so old fashioned, but he made it worked. Nodding, she made an inappropriate jerking motion, rolling her eyes a bit, before shrugging. Professor's and Teacher's alike were irritating. A Teacher asked John Lennon what he wanted to be when he grew up, and he said happy. She told him he didn't understand the assignment, he said she didn't understand life. Pig wondered briefly, if he had failed that assignment. But Thursday spoke again, bringing her back to the conversation at hand. "The K stands for Klaus, but don't tell anyone."

There was suddenly a smile sprawled across his face, that was much more lively than before. Keeping the smirk on her face, as he seemed to be studying it momentarily, Pig raised her finger to her lips as if to say 'You're secret is safe with me.' "Ozymandias Klaus Leviathan." She tested, her eyes rising to the ceiling, resting on a stain that looked rather like a lumpy Abraham Lincoln. "That's quite a mouthful. I think I'll have to call you Oz for short, Mmm?"

"Yeah, it'd be pretty damn boring if we just, like...talked about math the whole time. I mean, who's interested in that? Besides math teachers." She blinked twice again, remembering that they were suppose to be doing an assignment. Right. "You'll have to check me, then, because sometimes I forget to cross my t's."

"Only if you dot my i's." Though it was meant as a joke, Pig said it in her usual serious voice. It truly seemed as though, sometimes, someone had forgotten that little joking inflection people are suppose to have when she was built. Created. Whatever.

He continued, lamenting on the stupidity of school assignments. "The assignment is obviously bull. Most school assignments are, like...I'd do a lot better in school if it could hold my freakin' attention." It was about having your own fun, to Pig. She had gotten an A in one of her assignments, earlier that week, writing an essay that had a lot of 'Brit Slang' in it. Of course, barely any of it was legit slang at all. Honestly, krumps? That didn't even sound like a word. Her eyes went to his pencil, as it tap-tap-tapped on his desk, so caught up in his own words Pig barely thought he was aware he was doing it. "Well, yeah, the Walrus is obviously the villain. The Carpenter's just an average joe, kinda. It's like...like the Walrus is the big corporate business guy who lies to all the people and then eats them alive, right? Charming metaphor." Her eyes, and their peculiar blue shade, were stuck on him. It wasn't her fault really, he was interesting was all. Pig's smirk had shrunk a bit, as a more contemplative expression crossed her face, though it did twitch upwards again as he gave a theatrical shiver.

"I rather like the theory that it's about organized religion, personally." She shrugged, grinning. Oh yes, she knew that theory well. It was a source of great annoyance for The Saintly Governess, as it seemed to advocate atheism.

He took the book out of her hands, suddenly looking quite into the assignment. Pig fed off this new energy from him, leaning closer to keep the conversation private. "Anyway, my favorite poem is the one about Tweedledee and Tweedledum. What're your thoughts on that one?" She actually knew that one by heart, and the Duchess's poem, and most of the Jabberwocky poem. She looked at the page, her eyes scanning the page briefly, head hovering by his shoulder. "You think it's what it says it is, or another metaphor?"

"I think it could be counted as one of Lewis Carroll's more straight forward poems, personally." Pig mused, her full lips forming a thoughtful pout. "Though it could be put into a metaphor for anything that the situation applies too. Brother's squabbling about something quite trite, and then in a moment of panic they forget that they were fighting and remember that they are brothers. It's rather sweet, if you think on it." Pig certainly didn't have such a warm relationship with her siblings. "I've heard it applied to all sorts of things though. Scotland being Tweedledum and England being Tweedledee, with the crow being the economy. Or Tweedledum being the yanks and Tweedledee being the yank government, with the crow being terrorist or what have you." Pig shrugged. "I think it's more a fairy story with a moral, than a euphemism for anything else. Like, it's alright to be pissed, and it's okay to fight, but when shit goes down is when you realize what's important." Wow, that sounded so... hallmark-y. Bleh.

[THURSDAY DAVENPORT]

Well, getting that awkward bit about his reading out of the way...Thursday tried to focus on the actual assignment at hand. This girl seemed like she knew what she was talking about, after all, and Thursday really, really liked that. He didn't have a whole lot of friends who were girls (he didn't have a whole lot of friends, period), and most of the girls he'd met (November excluded) were either airheads or acted like they were. The way some chicks acted around him just because his face was nice to look at made him a little sick.

But Pig wasn't like that. At least she had the courtesy to say what she was thinking, instead of whispering it behind his back to one of her friends.

And she had a very nice smile. Very unique.

He tested his recovering mind for a moment, trying to think up a metaphor. Um...um...a metaphor for that smile...it was like...okay, so if the smile of every girl in the world were represented in an art museum by a statue, every other girl's smile would be one of those old Roman marble things with gods and togas and naked people and baby angels. They were nice to look at in the right place, but they got really boring when you realized that most of the museum was all these gray statues that all looked pretty much the same. But Pig's smile was, like, one of those cool modern art sculptures that's like, five chairs stacked on top of each other painted different colors, or something like that. And it was a little smaller than most of the other paintings, but it was so much more interesting to Thursday that all the other statues seemed a lot uglier now.

Yeah, that was a good one.

"Ozymandias Klaus Leviathan." He liked the way her accent made that name sound. "That's quite a mouthful. I think I'll have to call you Oz for short, Mmm?"

Thursday smirked a little bit and inclined his head. "Oz is solid with me," he told her, tilting his head to the side and chuckling a little bit. He wondered if she'd actually stick to calling him that...it'd certainly be an interesting nickname. There wasn't much one could do with 'Thursday.'

He was watching her face again. She had very nice eyes...a really interesting shade of blue. But then, pretty much everything about this girl was interesting. He was most intrigued by the fact that she actually knew a thing or two about Alice in Wonderland, and better yet, the rhyming poems in it he knew and loved so well. He, too, had several of them memorized, mainly the one about Tweedledee and Tweedledum.

"I rather like the theory that it's about organized religion, personally."

Thursday stopped and thought about that for a moment, making the connections silently in his head. Yeah...the walrus was like the head of the church...the oysters were the people...he'd never really been that much a supporter of organized religion himself. He was fine with God and everything - he was raised Christian, though now he was more of a deist - but it seemed like churches just sucked sometimes. "I can see that one," he said, nodding. "Yeah, and like...the Walrus is the head, and the...yeah. Wow. That's pretty brutal." He chuckled again. "But hey, organized religion kinda sucks anyway, so."

"I think it could be counted as one of Lewis Carroll's more straight forward poems, personally." Thursday had always thought the same about it. "Though it could be put into a metaphor for anything that the situation applies too. Brother's squabbling about something quite trite, and then in a moment of panic they forget that they were fighting and remember that they are brothers. It's rather sweet, if you think on it." Ha. Sounded an awful lot like Tuesday and him...the thought made him wince subtly. "I've heard it applied to all sorts of things though. Scotland being Tweedledum and England being Tweedledee, with the crow being the economy. Or Tweedledum being the yanks and Tweedledee being the yank government, with the crow being terrorist or what have you." She shrugged; he continued to listen, interested. "I think it's more a fairy story with a moral, than a euphemism for anything else. Like, it's alright to be pissed, and it's okay to fight, but when shit goes down is when you realize what's important."

"Yeah," he said, nodding his agreement. "Yeah, that's totally how I see it, too. I mean, yeah, I've read a lot about how it could be interpreted, but...I kinda like it just being the way it is. It tells a good story about brotherhood and...stuff..." He hesitated, wondering if it was too early to drudge up these memories. Things were going to get better between him and Tuesday. Things HAD gotten better between him and Tuesday. Everything was going to be fine.

[GEORGIANA 'PIG' SPENCER]

His head cocked slightly to the side, when she stated that she would call him Oz for short, as if trying to decipher if Pig was kidding or not. He would have to get use to that, if this... familiarity they had going on was to continue. "Oz is solid with me." The urge to ask him why he thought he really had a say in the matter was repressed by Pig, who merely smirked her curious smirk at him. She didn't even know if she'd call him Oz, for certain. Though it would at least make her memorable to him.

Which was important, as they'd be working together.

Other wise Pig couldn't care less if he remembered her. Right. Yes. Hrm. (<--- ohhai, lookit, a lie.)

"I can see that one, Yeah, and like...the Walrus is the head, and the...yeah. Wow. That's pretty brutal. But hey, organized religion kinda sucks anyway, so." As he spoke, Pig amused herself with drawing a Walrus wearing a Pope hat, nodding as he spoke.

When he finished, she looked up, rather enjoying the discussion. It was oddly stimulating, considering it was about an English assignment. "Oh, it's much bigger than even that, Ozzie." It would seem that she was going to be using that nickname after all. Very well. "The poem is an indictment against all the major organized religions." Her eyes closed, as she tried to remember all of the factors in the theory, chewing on the end of her pen. "The Carpenter represents Christianity, since Jesus was a carpenter, while the Walrus, being fat and good-natured, like Buddha, represents Buddhism, or the Walrus could also, with its tusks, represents Hinduism, since the Hindu god Ganesha, having an elephant's head, has tusks. Anyway, the Oysters are the masses being lead astray, despite what the logical Mother Oyster, ie science, telling them not to go." It occurred to her, as Pig concluded the theory, that Thursday could be the religious sort. Ah, well, he hadn't sounded it. And it wasn't like it was her theory, just one that she had heard and found interesting. She stared at him, for a moment, her pale face blank. "It's a theory popular by atheists." It wasn't said defensively, more as a fact.

The conversation went back to Tweedledee and Tweedledum, and she rather liked how he listened so closely. His reactions were rather interesting. His movements were subtle, but it was like he was trying to mask something. But everyone wears masks, that's a well known truth, at least to Pig. That was why she was so... blah all the time. She had been told since practically infancy to be proper and good, and though she fought it, there was something instilled in her. Hell, she had probably been scolded in the womb, told that kicking while Mummy was trying to talk was quite rude. "Yeah, Yeah, that's totally how I see it, too. I mean, yeah, I've read a lot about how it could be interpreted, but...I kinda like it just being the way it is. It tells a good story about brotherhood and...stuff..."

"Simplicity for the sake of simplicity isn't always a bad thing, right?" She inquired, watching him closely. It occurred to her that she was staring, and so she went back to her notebook, blacking out Pope Walrus's eyes. "Do you have any ideas for the poster?" Though her face was directed at the notebook, her eyes couldn't help but flicker back up to the strange boy, whose eyes were so very sad. Had she known him better, she would have asked about his sad eyes, but as they were strangers (albeit, strangers who got on oddly well) it was best to leave it unsaid. However, when Pig, who was about as verbally filtered as a broken fishtank that ran on words rather than water, left things unsaid, it left a certain tension in her body, and a dissatisfied expression on her face. But she could push on, and carry on. It was no business of hers, his eyes.

[THURSDAY DAVENPORT]

When was the last time he'd had a discussion this nice in freaking English class?

"Oh, it's much bigger than even that, Ozzie." So that nickname was going to stick after all. He didn't really have a problem with that; he kind of liked it. "The poem is an indictment against all the major organized religions. The Carpenter represents Christianity, since Jesus was a carpenter, while the Walrus, being fat and good-natured, like Buddha, represents Buddhism, or the Walrus could also, with its tusks, represents Hinduism, since the Hindu god Ganesha, having an elephant's head, has tusks. Anyway, the Oysters are the masses being lead astray, despite what the logical Mother Oyster, ie science, telling them not to go." Thursday nodded a little bit, intrigued. He wasn't really that religious, and besides, organized religion wasn't that great. Church always made him really uncomfortable. If he was anything, he was a Deist. "It's a theory popular by atheists."

"Cool," he replied, snapping his fingers and smiling. "I was never big on organized religion, in case you're worried about offending me...though you don't really seem like the type to get too concerned about that." He shrugged. "I don't really know what I am anymore, religiously, so whatever. I like that idea, though, it makes a lot of sense."

His eyes remained a little sad...but then, they were still always a bit sad these days. Now that he was patching up his relationship with Tuesday, things were getting better, but the wounds were still fresh and tender. "Simplicity for the sake of simplicity isn't always a bad thing, right?" she asked him, staring at him for a moment before going back to her notebook. He craned his neck to see what she was drawing and chuckled a little bit.

"No, no, not at all," he replied. "Like...balls are really simple things, and yet they're so much fun. I mean like rubber balls. Best thing ever." A bit of a smile crossed his face. "Nice Pope Walrus there. I like his hat."

"Do you have any ideas for the poster?" Oh, right, they were supposed to be working, weren't they? Thursday shrugged.

"Uh...well...we could use a pretty big poster board and have sections for a few important poems and their meanings and stuff. If we did that right, it could look pretty awesome. Here, like..." He took out a notebook of his own and a mechanical pencil, beginning to sketch out his idea. "And we could add pictures and cool headings and stuff. I like artsy sorta projects, y'know?"

[GEORGIANA 'PIG' SPENCER]

He didn't zone out, went she went on her ramble about religion, nor did her get offended. In fact, her stared at her with his dark eyes, fully enthralled in the conversation. She wasn't quite sure what to do with that. Despite her brightly colored fashion sense, Pig was rather a wallflower. It was much easier, however, to be a wall flower in England, because she had come from a small village. People were use to her, and her oddities. "Cool, I was never big on organized religion, in case you're worried about offending me...though you don't really seem like the type to get too concerned about that." Her head cocked slightly, though she neither confirmed nor denied his suspicions. Was he trying to figure her out? "I don't really know what I am anymore, religiously, so whatever. I like that idea, though, it makes a lot of sense." \

What a strangely intimate detail about himself. Pig hardly thought that he was aware that he said it. Or perhaps he did not consider religion to be intimate. Perhaps she was just over thinking it. Yes, that was more likely. Pig often over thought everything."I don't really know what I am either..." She spoke softly, momentarily jealous of Mary Anne's faith. For all her sister's faults, and holy crap there were many, she had unshakable faith that Pig respected deep down. True, she took it a bit far at times, but she was solid in her resolve. "Perhaps I'll join up the Scientology bunch. I hear that's quite a trip, and I have always liked stars." She was kidding again, though this time her voice broke the monotone and lilted a little with the joshing inflection. It was foreign on her voice, and quite perplexing.

Thursday seemed excited by the project, though an underlying sadness hung over him like a rain cloud. Poor Ozymandias Klaus... she found herself wanting to ask if he was alright, but reminded herself that this was a stranger, and that it was none of her business. Which was fine, as he seemed to distract himself with inspecting her pope walrus and chuckling a little. "No, no, not at all, Like...balls are really simple things, and yet they're so much fun." Her eyebrow raised, inquiringly. "I mean like rubber balls. Best thing ever." Pig nodded softly, as if agreeing with this. She had never owned one, personally. They were deemed unladylike toys by The Governess. "Nice Pope Walrus there. I like his hat."

Pig looked up at Thursday, grinning a little. "You like that, do you?" Another queer little laugh escaped her lips, though she didn't stamp it away. It almost sounded natural, at this point. "I always told myself that if I ever got a chance to meet the Pope, I only had one question for him. Nothing to do with politics. Nothing to do with religon. No, I have only one question for him and that is: May I please wear your hat, Sir." She laughed again, her face flushing slightly, as it sounded childish coming from her mouth. Still she kept it going. "Or, more appropriately, inoItalian: 'Per favore, posso indossare il cappello, il signor Pope?'... which is, by the way, the only Italian I know." She covered her eyes bashfully with one hand, not quite sure why she let him in on that little weirdness about her. Embarrassed as she was, she couldn't help but snicker all the same. It was just such a ridiculous, and truly out there, desire. But she quickly got a hold of herself, as she felt increasingly more foolish, and her mind went back to the project at hand.

"Uh...well...we could use a pretty big poster board and have sections for a few important poems and their meanings and stuff. If we did that right, it could look pretty awesome. Here, like..." She watched with interest as he sketched out the idea of the poster, and she was pleased that someone in this duo was artistic. Pig was far to analytical for such things, truth be told. "And we could add pictures and cool headings and stuff. I like artsy sorta projects, y'know?"

She nodded, slipping the pencil out of his hand for a moment. "You know what we could do? Mirror writing! We could just write everything backwards. It's relevant, because of the book, and it'd be amusing to watch the teacher try and figure out what the hell it says." She scrawled out Thursday's name backwards, in her loopish script, grinning. "What do you think? Keep em on their toes a bit?"

[THURSDAY DAVENPORT]

"I don't really know what I am either..." Thursday blinked. He hadn't quite been expecting that...or maybe he should have by now, seeing as this Pig girl was so...frankly, incredibly cool. "Perhaps I'll join up the Scientology bunch. I hear that's quite a trip, and I have always liked stars."

He actually laughed. There was a bit more of the old Thursday in that laugh. "Oh God, yeah," he drawled sarcastically. "We can send all our money away to some rich scam artists and pretend we've got evil aliens swimming around in our blood or...some shit like that..." He waved his hand in the air a little bit. "I find Scientology pretty damn funny, if you ask me. I'd like to see a modern day satire on that."

"You like that, do you?" She laughed, and Thursday nodded, smiling. "I always told myself that if I ever got a chance to meet the Pope, I only had one question for him. Nothing to do with politics. Nothing to do with religon. No, I have only one question for him and that is: May I please wear your hat, Sir." Thursday laughed with her this time, almost uncontrollably. "Or, more appropriately, inoItalian: 'Per favore, posso indossare il cappello, il signor Pope?'... which is, by the way, the only Italian I know."

"Pfffff!" Thursday snorted, barely restraining his laughter. "I'd freakin' love to see that. Imagine the look on his face! What a great prank!" And then he was grinning, and despite the sadness that still hung about him, it was like the sun peeking through the clouds. "I'd love to wear that hat, though. Just for a few seconds. So maybe I should learn that in Italian, just in case. Wait. Is the current pope Italian? He is, isn't he...?" He was briefly lost in thought. He couldn't remember the pope. He didn't really care about him.

"You know what we could do? Mirror writing! We could just write everything backwards. It's relevant, because of the book, and it'd be amusing to watch the teacher try and figure out what the hell it says." He raised his eyebrows and watched her scrawl out his name backwards. "What do you think? Keep em on their toes a bit?"

Thursday nodded enthusiastically. "Hell yeah! It'd be like a prank, and I always love a good prank. We'd be trollin' the teacher and the whole class. That's a great idea!" He grabbed a piece of paper and practiced his mirror writing. His handwriting was a lot sloppier than Pig's. "Er...you should probably do the mirror writing, though..." He gestured to his own boyish scribbles and smiled sheepishly.