paint me like one of your french girls (gxg)

do straws have one hole?

Mayson

Does a straw have one hole?

As I'm biking to school at the ungodly hour of 6:00 am, that's all that's on my mind. But seriously think about, how can there be two holes if there is no end to the first hole? But at the same time, if I cover the top of the straw, there is still gonna be a hole at the bottom.

Thinking about pointless shit like this is what gets me through the treacherous journey from the downtown of my city to my school. To put it into perspective, I'm biking 9 miles and the weather is currently 37 degrees. Big fucking whoop.

"It's hot, it's hot, it's hot, I'm in the middle of fucking Arizona right now and I don't have 3rd degree frost bite." I mutter to myself as I round the corner to go into my school.

I rack my bike and walk to the front doors and tug on the doors. Locked. I check my watch and see that is 6:06. I groan then start pacing in front of the doors I hear footsteps approaching.

"You're late." I say as I look up at the women as she unlocks the doors.

"Yeah, yeah, sue me." They mutter as we both walk in.

As soon as the heat from the school hits my face, I let out a sigh of relief. It was only the beginning of October and it was already this cold and it's only gonna get colder from here. God damn it.

"Sooooo." I say as I follow the woman into the cafeteria.

"Sooooo?" She replies back.

"Oh I don't have anything to say, I'm just bored."

She turns around from putting on an apron and gives me an incredulous look, then glances at the clock, "We've been here for five minutes."

I shrug, "My point exactly." She rolls her eyes at me and goes back to putting her ginger hair into a hair net. The lady I'm talking to is Evan. She's a sweetheart that listens to me ramble about stupid shit every morning before school. She loves me.

"Why are you here again?" She deadpans. Ouch.

I ignore her comment and play with a hair net before she slaps it outta my hands. Rude. "Do straws have one hole?" I ask her.

She looks up from putting trays out and gives me a look that's says "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I don't know Mayson how many holes do they have?" She sighs.

I frown, "I don't know, that's why I'm asking you." She then rolls her eyes at me. Damn, what did I do?

I just sit there for a while and watch her put the breakfast food into the containers. One of the reasons why I'm staring is because, I haven't eaten since yesterday morning but also because there's something really satisfying about watching yogurt dripping into a container.
"-Mayson! Are you even listening?" She says snapping her fingers in my face.

"Sorry, I was too distracted by your beauty." I grin.

That's half true, Evan is a 24 year old pre-med student that has vibrant ginger hair and light green eyes with little freckles on her nose. You can imagine how the guys in my school act when it's lunch time.

She rolls her eyes at me, "I said when's the last time you've eaten." That's another thing, she always knows I don't eat very often, not by choice because you know, FOOD, but because I can't afford it sometimes unless it's at school.

"Yes, actually I had a very balanced breakfast that included: scrambled eggs, buttermilk pancakes, turkey bacon, and fresh apple juice. It was quite the meal." I smile at her with my head on my knuckles.

She blankly stares at me before sliding a plate of toast, yogurt, and a banana in front of me, "Uh huh, eat up I know you haven't eaten since yesterday afternoon."

"What an absurd observation! I'll have you know I have eaten 3 meals since then." I say while stuffing my face like a madman.

She turns around from the other side of the counter and widens her eyes, "Jesus Christ what are you, a damn dog? You're gonna get sick, eating that fast!"

"What? Don't you know the saying, "The faster you eat, the better it taste?"" I ask.

"No? I've never heard of that." She says.

"Oh that's probably because I made it up." I smile.

"Sometimes I wonder how you have an IQ of 148." She shakes her head.

"Anyways." I say while getting up from my seat and walking to the piano in the cafeteria, "What song am I playing today?"

"Hmmmm, how about Moonlight Sonata." She says while wiping down counters.

I cringe, "Damn who hurt you?"

"Oh shut the fuck up and just play the damn song." She grumbles.

"Jesus, somebody has a stick up their ass." I mutter before turning to the piano.

(play the song now)

I've always been good at playing the piano. It was something I accidentally picked up when I was around 5. My mom was a nurse in a nursing home and she always had this patient who would listen to classical music all day. The same songs everyday just in different orders.

Everyday I would go with her to work after school because no one else could take care of me except my dad and he couldn't even take care of himself.
Anyways, I would memorize each song then go to the piano in the main hall when no one was looking.

One day while the classical patient was rolling along in his wheelchair to get his daily medication, he found me playing one of the songs he played everyday. He came and sat down and asked me how I knew how to play and I told him by listening then playing it.

He had this mole on his left cheek so I always called him Moley. After that it soon became a routine that everyday on his way to get his medicine, Moley would sit down and play me a new song that I would listen to then play it on the piano.

He died when I was like 9. Man, I miss him, he used to give me this german chocolate that he got from his daughter. Rest in Peace Moley, you will be missed.

As I finish the song I look up to see Evan staring at me intently.

"What?" I ask as I walk over to my bag.

"Nothing, don't get into more trouble." She says as I walk towards the exit of the cafeteria.

"Until lunch Evan!" I call over my shoulder and make my way out of the cafeteria.

As I walk out I see the students filing in from the front door. Some going to talk to their friends, others going to talk to teachers. Me? I put my hood up and head down and weave through the masses of my fellow classmates.

Two holes. Yup, a straw definitely has two holes.