Payne in the Ass

4. The Week In Which Eponine's Intestines Were Jacked Up

 Kool Kat Dictionary Entry Numbero (I’m rubbish at Spanish) Two:

Flailish /flāliSH/

When Eponine waves or swings her arms wildly, slapping various body parts, usually thighs, occasionally while she spins in a circular motion, panicking.

Examples: Eponine was acting very flailish. They span in a flailish way.

Kool Kat Dictionary Entry Numero (Look who learned how to say Number in Spanish) Three: 

Freakingoutedness /ˈfrēkinoutedness/ 

1. Being in a continuous state of freaking out. 2. A manic, crazed feeling usually accompanied by some physical flailish activity that stays over an extended period of time.

Examples: I think I’m going to die of freakingoutedness. The doctor admonished the child that she had a very bad case of freakingoutedness that must be treated immediately or else she will die immediately by Kardashian and/or llama attack. True story.

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Eponine’s POV.

I was torn between jumping up and down in excitement or panicking. Either way, I don’t think I’m pooing for the next week. Too much information? There is never such a thing as too much information. It’ll be called The Week In Which Eponine was So Freaked Out, Her Intestines Weren’t In Working Order So She Never Pooed. Or The Week in Which Eponine's Intestines Were Jacked Up for simplicity.

Two weeks. Two. Weeks. TWO WEEKS. Two weeks. I think I’ve emphasized that enough. Two weeks to learn the songs (which I’ll call the Songs of Death, since there’s a possibility I might die of freakingoutedness), memorize the Songs of Death, record the Songs of Death, begin learning a blocking of dances for the Songs of Death, while trying not to die during the Songs of Death. Then I perform the Songs of Death live in front of thousands of people who will judge me until I shrivel up into a little ball on the stage..and die. There’s a bit of a death theme going on. HOW AM I GOING TO DO THIS? HOLY MOTHERFU- 

“Would you excuse us for a moment?” Fae said calmly, standing up, and leading Sammi and I out the door. We looked at each other in the other Simon-free room for a second, blinking, before we all started having panic attacks. This meant Fae was shaking, Sammi was jumping from her right foot to her left in a worried state looking like she was about to wee herself, and I was spinning in a circle, slapping my hands on my thighs in a flailish matter. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” That was all that could come out of my mouth in this moment. Eeeeeeeppppppppppp! We all continued our bizarre panic attacks.

“We can’t do this, we can’t do this, we can’t do this. How are we going to do this? We can’t! We can’t do this! It can’t be done! We can’t do this!” Sammi repeated as she hopped from foot to foot like a confused jackalope. She's very positive, as you can see. That was supposed to be sarcastic. All Fae did was make shaky sounds that sounded something like “Nyeh!” with a stutter. 

“OH MY GOD, WE’RE GOING ON TOUR.” I said, stopping my spinning. “THIS IS OUR DREAM. IT’S HAPPENING. IT’S HAPPENING. IT’S HAPPENING.” I’m a bit repetitive when I’m overwhelmed by intense feels in my tum tum. I call my stomach my tum tum. Super Kool, right? No.