Post by FIRST STEVENS! on Jul 15, 2011 22:14:29 GMT -5
Ugh, why is my stomach such an idiot?[/color]
Mornings are extraordinary. The morning mist, the birds’ wake-up calls, and Death City’s gradual transition from a sleeping giant into a bustling metropolitan contribute to the Ante Meridian magnificence. Unfortunately, classes exist in the mornings as well. The excessive projects, booklets, and quizzes were no match for First, but a barrage of assignments could really wear a girl down. Okay, make that a few pages of questions, but the font was tiny and hard to read. Plus, it wasn’t her fault she started doodling on the desks; the classes were no more thrilling than ticket stubs. To top it all off, her stomach was complaining about the lack of breakfast, and its excessive griping lasted throughout the whole morning. Perhaps if those little girls knew, they wouldn’t have been furious when First plowed through their cluster in a mad dash toward the cafeteria.
She was hungry.
The weapon rounded the corner, skidded to a halt, and grabbed the cafeteria door handles. She paused before entering, regaining her composure and restoring a bit of her dignity. The doors opened with only a slight squeak from the hinges, and First took a glance at her surroundings as she made her way toward the lunch line. A good number of students had already arrived, about fifty. Others started filing in as well, and the volume started to increase. The Demon Comb took no notice of the senseless chatter and shouts; her focus was on the cafeteria lady ready to dish out orders.
First was a bit desperate, if not gluttonous, for she requested an ice cream sundae—something taking minimal time to prepare. She received an odd look, but the bowl of sugary delight was soon in her hands. Her stomach growled in anticipation as the girl grabbed a spoon and plopped down into a seat. First likes ice cream.
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