Cream of Tartar

Chapter 4: Reality Hits and Boy Does It Hurt

I did it! I'm at the college of my dreams and far, far away from my mother. A huge grin splits my face and I punch the air at my success. Yasss! But then.... I'm hit with the sudden realisation that I'm at college, which can only mean one thing - 4 long years of hard, hard work. I'm here at college to get an education, not just party around as a convenient story setting because an author can't be bothered to actually think of interesting settings and wants to make a story about young people but not too young like high school kids, as well as a way to excuse shitty behaviour from all of the main characters except the Mary Sue.

Groaning, I sit up in bed and notice my completely trashed roommate in her mess of a bed buried under salt and vinegar chips and DNA tests. To be honest, she doesn't look good and there's no way she'll feel good when she wakes up. To respect her, I open my creaky wardrobe, flick through my metal coat hangers, grab a dress, pull one of my drawers out, gather some undergarments, shove the draw back in, and slam the door shut before tip toeing off to the communal bathrooms in my 6-inch stilettos.

I'm just stepping out of the shower when I come face to face with a zombie. I instinctively scream and swing at it with my toiletries bag - it goes down with a clunk and a massive groan. Ha! Who was my mother calling useless? I'm about to sprint out away from it before it comes back to eat my brain when I do a cursory glance around the bathroom. I see Sue lying face down on the floor clutching her head in her outfit from last night.

"Oh my god Sue! Are you okay? Are you still drunk? Did the zombie get you and you're about to become one too??" I cry.

"No you idiot!" She snarls.

"Sue!" I chide, "Now is not the time for insults - we have to go before that zombie comes back."

I haul her to her feet despite her protests and practically drag her down the hallway back to our shared room. We're almost at the door when she manages to wriggle out of my grasp and push me away, almost falling down in the process.

"Let me go, you weirdo! There's no zombie - it was me that you whacked!" she practically screams. She immediately winces and holds her head, "Ugh I am so hungover right now, I ate way too many 380g party-size salt and vinegar chip packets last night. I'm practically 80% sodium. And to add to that, I'm even saltier because you ditched me at the party last night, and then hit me and ruined my morning routine."

She stomps back to the bathroom and I crumble to the floor under the guilt, sliding my hand down the wall as I do so - if I had've known she had the party size packets, I wouldn't have acted so rash. I feel sorry for myself for approximately 2 minutes and 32 seconds before I remember that not only am I still wrapped only in my towel with dripping wet hair, I also have class this morning and I'm going to be late if I continue being my pathetic, useless self. I spring up and rush into the room to get ready.

I get ready in record time and pack my bag, including my laptop, water bottle, sphygmomanometer, and 22 pens - mother said you always have to be prepared in case 21 of them run out of ink. I sprint to the college campus and I don't look where I'm going and I practically run headlong into that hot lunatic - Tar. He recovers quickly and fixes me with a furious stare.

"You!" he lunges at me but I dodge out of the way, quick as a brown hare - the fourth fastest land animal, "Why don't you look where you're going, you Rainbow Fish, written and illustrated by Marcus Pfister and translated into English by J. Alison James, stealing trash?"

"Me?" I screech like a peregrine falcon - the fastest sky animal on the planet, "Don't you have eyes, moron?"

"I have eyes," he says, taking off his sunglasses to reveal the two pools of melted chocolate on his face that he calls eyes - if chocolate was blue, "Maybe you need to get your vision checked."

I put my hands on my hips, "Excuse you, I go to an optometrist annually!"

"Maybe you need to see a new one," he suggests.

"What's wrong with Dr Iris Retina?" I place a hand on my chest.

"Dr who?"

"Dr Iris Retina, my optometrist for the past 18 years. What do you know about her?"

"Look, I don't know anything about this Dr Siri Retainer. I'm in no way trying to disparage her professional abilities. I was insulting you by saying that you should get someone else to check your vision because you ran straight into me," he walks closer to me, "You fucking twit!"

"Oh, that makes more sense."

I glance around and notice curious eyes looking our way, I look back at them and they look back at me. Rude. I gather my composure, straighten my clothes and turn to walk away. But before I can run off in a dead sprint, he gets in my face.

"Are you going to apologise, Blind Freddy?"

"Only if you do it first!"

"Me? Apologise?" he scoffs, "For what?"

"For being mean to me. All I ever wanted to do was read the Rainbow Fish and you wouldn't let me," I whine.

"And all I wanted to do was to walk to my class without some stupid idiot colliding with me."

We glare at each for over a minute and a half, this clearly isn't going anywhere.

"Hey look," I shout, pointing at the sky, "Blimp! Blimp!"

"What? Where? I love those!" he says like a kid in a candy shop except he is 18 years old and he is on a college campus.

He looks up and I take the opportunity to high tail in the opposite direction.