Dude Looks Like a Lady

Boys, Boys, Boys

Note #56:  Stereotypical guy: Perverted, only looks at girl's chests, talks mostly about sports, eats a lot of meat, and lastly, enjoys making a total douche of himself in public.

   Reality: Mostly the opposite.

 ***

    "Hurry up and get out!" I mentally reminded myself not to sound so whiny, and keep my voice at a very low level. It was hard, though, with a guy who spends just as much time in the bathroom as my older sister.

  "Why? I have ten minutes left!" Roy's voice was muffled by that god-forsaking door in between me and my prime directive.

   It's been three days, three days, since I joined here and got Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky as a roommate. Three freaking days of utter torture due to phone calls at three in the morning from a quite pissed Charlie, who believes I should have half of the outline written for the article already. Three horrifying days of waiting outside the bathroom door because I really, really have to pee. And, if I don't, I swear I'm going to explode.

   "Because my bladder can only hold so much liquid!!" I roughly pounded at the door, again, the throbbing pain in my wrist numbing.

   I've gotten use to sounding somewhat masculine, at least, I hope. Nobody has questioned me though I've received some odd looks. But, eh, whatcha gonna do?

   "Then use a bottle or something!!"

I scrunched up my face, feeling myself gag, before returning to my same pleading dance. If he doesn't hurry up...

  "There," he brushed past me coolly, the door opened freely, "you can go in now."

I didn't even bother to glare at him, slamming the door behind me and quickly fumbling with the lock. When the door finally clicked, I went to relieve myself.

   Awkward silence issued, along with the deafening sound of a waterfall. A few drips and a groan of satisfaction escaping my lips. Then, finally, the flush of the toilet.

   This, sadly, was the highlight of my day.

***

   "Mr. Crock? Would you come up to the board and solve the equation?"

Have you ever had that moment in life when your heart gives out, and you feeling liking rolling along the floor in a giant ball of 'why me'?

  If you have, I can relate entirely.

My eyes literally popped from their sockets, my heart going one hundred miles per hour in my chest, all the blood leaving my brain and finally, all thoughts of how to...well, do anything, were completely gone.

   "Mr. Crock?" his nasally voice was able to squeeze through the chaos in my head, hammering away annoyingly.

  "Mr. Crock? Would you please finish this equation? Now."

Snickers erupted from behind me. Great...the whole point of this was to get information and not bring attention to myself. Plus, I suck at math.

  "Uh..." I stood, moving achingly slow towards the blob of a teacher, eyes lingering to the stub of chalk in his chubby fingers.

  "Finally, you come up."

   I reached for the white stick, hands shaking uncontrollably. The teacher nodded, moving to the side and revealing my worst nightmares...

  Why was there a 'z'? 'Z' isn't a number, is it? What's up with that squiggly line? Reminds me of a worm...wait, is that a number? Oh, lordy lordy, it is a number!! Are there others? Please tell me there are others...