There are times in my writing class full of very adult-like adults where Kelly and I mystically morph into two 15-year-old girls. I can’t explain why or how it happens, it just happens. Like magic.

Last night class ran a bit over. We had three really good student stories to discuss and we got carried away. So as we were passing out the stories for next week Vodo tried to discuss the story from the book. Because I am a bad, bad student I did not read the story in the book.

Neither did Kelly.

So people are chatting and handing out stories and I turn to Kelly all snarky. “Have you ever read the story for class?”
“Yes!” she said.
“Which ones?”
“The Optimist, the one before last week. . .”

I think at this point we both noticed the class had fallen silent.

“Hellllooo,” Vodo said from the front of the class. “You two . . .”

Kelly and I turned to each other at the same time, both of us blushing.

“I think we just got busted for talking in class,” I said.
“Oh yes,” she said. “We did.”

This is made even funnier because Kelly is teacher. I reveled in it. Usually I have to wear the bad student dunce cap alone, even though I always have a partner in crime. ALWAYS.

The best part of it was that last night, the Vodo actually ripped on Kelly. Generally I tease her endlessly about how much Vodo looooovvvveeesss her. And I say it just like that. Then she’ll say, “of course he does because I don’t tel him to fuck off all the time.” Then I just say hrmph.

Anyway at Grumpy’s last night we talked about how great the class was and how well we’ve gelled. Vodo mentioned that he was going to drop his new rule on us next week. The rule I hate because I think it’s a way to get me to shut the fuck up, even though Vodo reassures me that it’s not.

The rule is that everyone has to talk at least four times in class. Vodo’s explanation was that you get two things out of the way easily because everyone has to say one nice thing about the story. Which is good because some people (me, I am sure) dominate the conversation and some people don’t say anything.

“Fine,” I said, crossing my arms and glaring at Vodo. “I’m not going to talk at all.”
“Oh?” Vodo asked.
“Yeah, AT ALL!”
“You can’t not talk in class.”
“I can so,” I said.
“Care to make this interesting?” He asked. And as I pondered what I could possibly bet him to make it interesting. Kelly piped in.
“If we have three stories, they should have to say six things in class,” she said.
Both Vodo and I turned to look at her, and Jags laughed in the corner.
“What?” Vodo asked.
“Well we have three stories,” She started to explain. But Vodo cut her off going into nerd mode.
“You see,” he said in a squeaky voice, pushing his glasses up his nose. “If you do the math, you would see that. . .”

I howled. I howled so loudly the windows shook.

“He’s ripping on you,” I shouted at Kelly. “Do you see him ripping on you?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I noticed.”

I ate it up and it tasted better than tator tots.