Villain Academy #JustWriteIt [WATTY AWARD WINNER OF 2015]

+ the 8 with the sandwiches +

                  

SUPER UN-EDITED (idk if that's even a word).

Enjoy!

+++

"Does it give him bad diarrhea?  Ow! Why in hell carnation is your elbow so fucking sharp?!"

"I will claw out your teeth if you don't stop," I growled.   

Roger's mouth leaned further into my ear.  "Will he be shitting bricks later?  As in actual bricks?  Why do humans use that term anyway?  Why not sandwiches?"  He paused and lifted his head up, speaking in an aesthetic, casual voice.  "You'll be shitting sandwiches."

I flicked my pen against his temple.  "Is there any sign of brain in there?"

"Nah."  He dropped his cheek into his open palm.  "The Zombies ate mine looong ago."  My gaze fell back to the physics lesson on our desk.  "Do you think that drink messes with his hormones?  Does it enlarge his dinga ling-ling?  I heard one guy died because his dinga ling-ling was too big.  He got all wooey-wooey and it exploded-"

I clamped a hand over his mouth.  "He's coming." 

I felt Roger's smile widen under my hand and it took me three seconds before I had slap him again.  "You disgust me," I grumbled, wiping my hand across my jean skirt.  His eyes twinkled in amusement as his attention slowly shifted back to his own paper. 

"Nice of you to join us, Archer," I heard Mr. Grim say. 

I kept my head low, my pen moving across the worksheet. 

"I don't see any tents in his pants.  Are you sure you gave him enough?" Roger's voice lowly murmured. 

I stabbed my pen into his thigh and he howled in pain. 

Mr. Grim drew out a long sigh, removing his glasses.  "Yes, Roger?" 

He wildly shook his head, red cheeks puffing out.  "Mhm, no sir."  I retracted the pen and watched him slump against the chair, his sausage fingers covering over the wound.  "What the actual hell, Vhal?!"  His whisper was pretty damn close to a scream. 

"You wouldn't shut up," I simply answered.  I finished colouring in the little heart I put on my 'i'. 

"So you stab a pen into my thigh?!"

"Just put a band aid on it."

"You stabbed me and you want me to use a band aid?!"

"Boo hoo.  You'll heal."

"No, I won't!  I'm not exactly a beast if you recall."

"I love how you always find a way to sneak personal, highly classified conversations in the most public areas," I sweetly drawled. 

His retorts dissolved into murmuring curses as he carried on with his work: writing, reaching for his sandwich sitting on the corner of the desk, biting into it and putting it back. 

Archer already left for his next class before we could catch him.  I shrugged, and watched Roger stuff his papers into his bag, the sandwich held in his mouth.

"The day there will be no more sandwiches, is the day you will die," I told him. 

He hauled the strap over his shoulder, half his bag still unzipped.  The bread yanked apart between his teeth and he didn't even need to chew as he swallowed it whole.  "I'm sure you can't wait until that day rolls around."

"At your eating rate, I'm sure that day is coming soon."  We walked out the classroom, villains instantly dodging out of our way. 

"When will you understand eating time is all time?" Roger said.  A trail of paper began from his backpack.