Touch of Hellfire (Pocket's Version)

🎬35🎬

We strolled into Luke's one morning, only to find it utterly and completely empty.

"Holy cow! It's empty!" I exclaimed. "Just one of those weird lulls that happens occasionally," Luke explained.

"So...we can sit wherever we like?" Rory asked him. "Yup," Luke mumbled. "Such luxury," I laughed.

"Fun fact, garbage cans behind Al's Pancake World are only visible on clear days," Rory told me. "Let's sit at the counter," Mom suggested.

"They aren't the power seats though," Rory told her. "But we can play bagel hockey," Mom attempted to convince us. "Just sit at a table," Luke grumbled impatiently.

"So rude, for someone that has only three paying customers," Mom snarked, leading us over to a table.

"Okay, the debate is at half three, on Friday," I told Mom. "You prepared?" Rory asked me. "Yup," I murmured. "I know more about doctor assisted suicide than I ever cared to."

"What about your stage fright?" Mom asked me. "Once I'm into it, I'm good, it's only if I start stuttering and freaking out," I reassured her. "Paris thought that the two scariest girls in Chilton would be the best. When it comes to directing, I'm an animal." 

Luke's phone started ringing. "Hello? Rory, it's for you."

"But who knows I'm here?" she muttered, getting up.

"So, you and Tessa, how long is the flight from Hartford to California?" Mom asked me. "Five and a half hours," I told her.

"I'm getting you all you need, plenty of junk food, a portable DVD player...everything Heather Gilmore needs on a flight to California," Mom told me.

"Oh, congrats on that California thing," Luke told me. "Thank you," I smiled. "You gonna be there for the whole summer?" Luke asked me. "Yep, me, Tessa, hopefully get a signature from every celebrity on tie dye paper that I can frame," I said.

"I want at least twelve," Mom told me. I rolled my eyes. "You don't find Leo, you're not coming home," she joked.

***

"There's nothing on," Rory sighed. "Let's face it."

"What about Two Fat Ladies?" Mom suggested. "It's a cooking show and you don't cook," I told her. "And they're all repeats anyway."

The doorbell suddenly rang. "Not it!" Rory shouted.

"I hate you," I grumbled and got up. I opened the door and found Paris on the other side. "Can I come in?" 

"Sure?" I said in an unsure tone stepping aside. "We need more preparation," Paris stated as she walked in. "Why am I not surprised?" I muttered under my breath. "We know the material, Paris." 

"It's a presentation issue, more specifically yours," she stated. "There's a problem with my presentation?" I raised my eyebrows. "Okay, what's wrong?"

"You talk too slow," Paris just said it rather bluntly. "I talk too slow?" I scoffed. "Your speed is 138 wpm." 

"The hell does wpm mean?" 

"Words per minute." 

"I sincerely apologise for speaking at a non psychotic pace," I rolled my eyes. Paris ignored my comment. "We only have minutes to make our arguments, my wpm is 178, our collective wpm needs to be at maximum!" 

"Okay," I sighed, giving in. Paris walked through the living room and went upstairs to my room. 

"Okay, in order to increase your wpm, no dairy, mucus will build up in your throat, have you had dairy in the last forty eight hours?"