End of 2007...

Or start of 2008?

Either way, I have two messages. One of them is Zelda-related, and the other totally isn't.

Let's start with the second message, which makes it the first, therefore I contradict myself:

Naruto. Is. Awesome.

Seriously. If you are amongst the lonely few who have not tried out this amazing series, you do not know what you are missing out on. And since you have not bathed in the divine illumination that has warmed all our hearts and opened our minds, you do not deserve to understand the rant I am about to indulge in.

First off, did you all see Naruto's lineage coming? I so totally did. You can ask Prophet and Scarlet if you don't believe me. I swear, I was so proud that my hypothesis was proven true in the past few chapters, I actually whooped. And then I was like, "WHY DOES THE HERMIT HAVE TO ―――" which was followed by a stream of cusses so angry that my brother ―MY BROTHER― shot me a dirty look.

And then, the crux of my excitement: the Uchiha faceoff.

Holy cow, we're hardly one chapter in and it already kicks more butt than Pokémon at the height of its glory. And that's a lot of epileptic buttocks, my friends, because what could be cooler than Sasuke Uchiha (also known as the only angsty borderline-emo character in History to win a choice spot in my heart) ripping his brother to shreds in a fit of angsty borderline-emo rage. Seriously. And the dialogue? Finally the questions that have been begging to be asked are being asked: "WHY, ITACHI? WHYYY??? *stabby-stab-stab*"

And, especially...

I love. Their. Costumes. Like HOMG Sasuke looks great in the mysterious black cloaky-thingy. And yes, I call it a mysterious black cloaky-thingy. It's my right. As my English teacher would have said, 'when you master the language, you can twist it. But if you don't master it, you can't defy the rules'. This was usually spoken while staring straight at me if I ever argued that it was okay to 'screw the rules of structural organization!' This happened, therefore, rather often. Like, every week.

Yeah, my English teacher was a nazi.

Anyway, Sasuke and Itachi. I hope Sasuke wins. Life would suck if Itachi kicked his ass. I mean, I love the youngest Uchiha almost as much as I love Naruto's improving physique. And that's saying something because Naruto looks scrumptious now.

Yeah. I used the word scrumptious. To speak of Naruto. That's how bad it's gotten, my friends. That's how far-gone I am about these characters.

Is there any more― Oh, yeah.

What's going to happen now to the JiraiyaxTsunade fans??? Honestly, I could have seen it happening, people. It's not like they didn't give us fifty billion clues. And now it's all gone to heck? What! That's just unfair. Kind of like it's unfair that I can't seem to decide between NarutoxSakura and SasukexSakura. BOTH COUPLES MAKE SENSE. BOTH COUPLES ARE AWESOME.

Odds are it's gonna turn into a NaruxSaku, but hey, what about Sasuke? Why doesn't our favourite angsty borderline-emo get a girl? And don't tell me that Karin is the one. That woman is about as sane as Sakura was in the beginning of the series: not very. I don't blame her, of course. I mean, she gets to see Sasuke half-naked all the time, and what red-blooded woman wouldn't swoon at THAT sight, I ask you? Still, she's too nutty for our favourite Chidori-charged ninja.

Anyway. If Naruto, Sakura, Sasuke (especially Sasuke), Gaara (my secret love) or Shikamaru (my other secret love) die before the end, I am heading straight to Japan to kick some manga-ka ass.

Rant over. The ignorant ones who had trouble keeping up should move out from under their rock and go freaking read this brilliant series, for the love of all that is holy. You don't know what you're passing up. If you think this is just a series about stupid jokes and neverending battles, you are wrong. That's only how it starts out as. But Naruto as a whole is about holding on to your values, overcoming odds, improving your skills, and, my favourite, it deals with strategy, misinformation, manipulation, and quick thinking.

A bit like Death Note but with less mental dialogue and more butt-kicking. And less morbidity and more sensitivity. Naruto is one of the few series that actually drew some tears from me because it was so touching. That's right, skeptics! Naruto made CM's lower lip quiver and eyes water! Did you need any further incentive? There it is!

Now the rant is really over. I promise.

And now, the first message which has become the second message.

New oneshots to celebrate the New Year!

Was reading through a full rant on Naruto worth it? Yes. You know it was. Don't argue with me.

Please note that the first oneshot is only rated Teen because of Dark's dirty mind. The other one is rated M because you are a bunch of rascals that should know better than to read this stuff. This is me wagging my shame-on-you finger in a grandmotherly way.

Okay, now it's time to party.

Love,
CM

Yo-ho-ho...

A Pirate's Life Merry Christmas for thee!

No go buy yourself Pirates of the Caribbean underwear/boxers like the ones Slim showed me the other day.

All joking aside, I hope you have a wonderful day, with plenty of laughter. Don't let yourself be won over by the materialism of this holiday; visit family, send cards, give hugs (not awkward ones, though. You should stay away from those if they're just going to ruin the mood).

I myself will be spending the day visiting my grandpa, then coming home to start my nine thousand pieces puzzle (:D) and entertaining my little cousins with my regular antics. They, like so many of my acquaintances, seem to think I am a bundle of hilarity. I prefer to leave them to their delusions.

And before you start throwing rocks at me, note that I will most likely release a new lemon on the Twitchy Site sometime before New Years, as soon as I find a good title for it. I hate finding titles so very much.

As per Fighting Gravity, never fear, it's coming along still. Seeing as I've planned the writing segments while keeping a detailed track of an actual story timeline, I'll publish the first chapter once I reach the story's 27th of Quintember (May). For reference, I'm at the 24th. And if you think that means it'll be published sometime very soon, I'm sorry, but no. In a hundred pages, I wrote the equivalent of ten story days (starting on Quintember 17th). A very busy ten days. And the story is planned to continue through to September (in the story, this means July, or the seventh month of the year), and maybe even more. You do the math.

That said, I'm very pleased with how it's turning out, so I will continue to work on it diligently, hopefully while keeping in mind a release date in February.

Love and kisses,
CrazygurlMadness

I'm jealous of Goofy.

"Hey!" Slim greeted me yesterday, his smile uncharacteristically wide. "CM! I'm so glad to see you―"

I raise a hand. He shuts up. I love that I can do that. "Slim, come see me when you go on break. I have something for you before you go."

"What?" He furrows a brow and looks confused. I've seen this expression so often that I know it doesn't mean he doesn't understand. It just means he's curious.

"No questions, just do it."

"Okay... Hey, it's my last day here!"

I pout. "I know." He looks so damn happy, the bastard. I guess I kind of liked having him around, in spite of his annoying tendency to jump me from behind to stun me into a heart-attack. "You don't have to be so cocky about it."

He grins charmingly. "What can I say? It's what I do. I love making you jealous. I mean, while you'll be here tomorrow, folding children's socks, I'll be..." He leaves the sentence hanging, just long enough for me to shoot him the expected jealous death glare. "...That's right, CM, I'll be on the plane to Florida and the coolest theme park in the world!" He whoops, raising a fist and pumping it in the air. "Oh yeah. Oh yeah. Beat that, beat that."

I can't help but smile and squeak, "I'm so jealous, but I'm so excited for you, too."

He returns the smile with obvious good humour, his cockiness gone. "Yeah, it'll be good to see Rick hugging Mickey Mouse."

"But it also means you're finished with Sears..."

He doesn't look too disappointed. "Well, it was fun while it lasted, but I'm also ready to try new stuff out." He shoots me an eloquent look. "I mean, I really appreciate the opportunity I got to try out department store work," I think this is his way of saying thank you to me for having him hired in the first place, "but I think I'll try my hand at waitering at the same restaurant as Rick and Ban."

"I can't believe you're going to Disney World with your family and Rick, of all people, and didn't invite me."

He knows I'm joking, but he replies with the same indignation anyway, "Hey, we've been planning this for months now. Besides, I've known Rick for years. No offence but―"

"I know, Slim, it's okay, I was just kidding."

He snorts. "Well, you're the one who's planning an uber-cool trip to Europe and France for next summer with Kitty and Eva, and look who isn't invited this time."

He crosses his arms childishly and we last no more than five seconds before we start laughing.

"Anyway," Slim continues, "I should get back to my own department. Not that it matters because they can't fire me at this point."

I smirk. "Jerk. ... Hey, when's your lunch break?"

"1:30. You?"

"I'll arrange to have lunch with you, so come get me when it's time."

"Okay. See you in two minutes when I find another pretext to swing by your dept again."

"Slacker."

"It's what I do best."

Time passes agonizingly slowly, broken up only by Slim's occasional incursions into my territory. By 1:30, he comes to the counter where I'm folding children's pyjamas, grabs my arm, and says, "We are leaving. Now."

The cashiers around me shoot us quizzical glances. I disengage myself and say, to Slim, "Look, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but it's a little dramatic. You're freaking everybody out."

He grins broadly. "I know. Come on, though, I'm hungry."

I roll my eyes and grab my purse, as well as a nondescript envelope that I'd prepared the day before. "You're such a guy. Oh, speaking of lunch, will you―"

"Please say you want a Teenburger too."

"Um. Yeah, okay, but will you―"

"Because I would kill for a Double Teen right about now, and I don't want to walk all the way across the mall on my own."

"Yeah, fine, sure. Hey," I say, trying to match his purposely long strides (he's the only one who can actually make me jog to catch up with him―everyone else jogs to catch up to me!), "but hey, Sliiiim...?"

"What?" He glances at me over his shoulder, smirking at my light jog.

"Will you pay for my lunch?"

"Okay."

"Because you know, you owe me for that one time― wait, seriously?"

He blinks at me confusedly. "Yeah. Well, sure."

"Oh. ... Um, okay." I was only half-kidding, but hey, free food! "Uh... thanks."

"No problem. Hey, can't you keep up?"

I jog again to match his strides. "You're a real asshole, you know that?"

Fifteen minutes later, we re-enter the employee room with our A&W bag. Slim grabs the seat across from me and begins devouring his Double Teenburger. I watch him in amusement and eat my own. After a minute of quiet eating, Slim finally says, "You know what kind of disappoints me lately?"

I glance up and take a long sip of my ice tea. "What?"

He puts his hamburger down and wipes his fingers on a napkin, then motions to my ice tea questionningly. I nod, because I don't mind sharing drinks. I do it often enough at school with Josie, Kitty, Guy or Rick. He takes a small sip, then admits, "Well, I've been spending all my free time at Rick's lately, because I realised that not having a girlfriend leaves this sort of gaping hole in my social agenda."

I refrain from laughing. "Well, that's how it is. Don't you dare pick up with her again though."

He snorts.

"I saw your girlfriend here the other day."

He shoots me a good-humoured smile and raises a brow. "I'm sorry, what? You used a word in there that isn't―"
"Oh my god, sorry. I meant 'ex'. I saw your ex the other day." He nods and looks satisfied, before processing what I just said. I raise my brows. "You know, when you called in sick―you were hungover from the session party, though, weren't you?"

"Yeah, and are you kidding me? Katie? Here? Are you sure?" He makes a funny oops-I-hope-she-doesn't-want-to-wear-my-guts-for-garters face. "What did she, um, look like?"

"Pissed off and a little depressed."

He purses his lips. "That's it?"

"Well, and maybe a bit murderous. But shouldn't that worry you enough?"

"Not really." He eats a slow bite of hamburger. "Truth be told, the more I think about it and the more I realise she was always like that. I was just too blind to see it." He chews, swallows, and says, thoughtfully, "I think the only time I ever saw her smiling was when I was personally overseeing her general happiness."

I cringe and bluntly offer, "You really know how to pick 'em, don't you?"

He shrugs helplessly. "Mostly I think I did the right thing. Which doesn't change the fact that, well, Rick doesn't exactly make up for the girlfriend benefits..."

And because he's trying to be so subtle, I break the hints and plainly say, "You mean you can't snog Rick the way you snogged her?"

He smiles at my destruction of his allusions, then chokes a little as he laughs. "Yeah, I guess you could put it that way."

"Well, give it some time. It's not like you have a deadline."

"I know." He watches as I finish my Teenburger off, and finishes his a couple of bites later.

Something weird happens then. We just sit there in silence. This very rarely happens, as we usually have so much to say, so much to reply to, so much to share, so much laughter to cause. I can tell he's not thinking of anything in particular, and I know I don't feel the necessity of rekindling conversation. There's nothing awkward. We're just sitting there, each in our own thoughts. I absently examine his traits. Mom says that while most of my guy friends are really attractive, Slim has a little special something. In her words, 'CM, you can say what you want, but Slim is really gorgeous. I mean, really.'

I think I know what she means. Not only does Slim have the most expressive and likeable face I know, his traits also make him rather handsome. While most of the time I focus on his funny expressions and grimaces, all those faces that make him the fun friend that he is, I rarely take the time to appreciate his actual face.

It's not perfect. His skin is sometimes broken by a zit or two. He only shaves once a week, so most of the time his chin has an uneven start of beard. He says that the fact that one of his cheeks tends to be hairier than the other is embarrassing and that it's the reason he'll never grow a full beard, but I don't see it. He's cute, in a ruffled way.

His lower lip juts out a little more than the top lip, giving him the sort of strange edge you find on gritty drawings, but it's so subtle that it makes him look thoughtful more than menacing. It curls a little. It made me wonder what it'd be like to trace it with a finger. His lips aren't chapped, like Rick's tend to be, so I'd imagine it'd be soft.

He's got a larger nose than Rick or PB or Guy. He says that if he had a smaller nose, he could be hot. While he says this with a smile, I know it bothers him. One day I'll tell him that if he had a smaller nose, he wouldn't be nearly as handsome. It's not huge or anything, and could never evoke the image of a hawk or eagle. It's strong, but it's got a smooth bridge, so it doesn't stick out. In a face that manages to balance softness with expressiveness, his nose is actually more than adequate. Not to mention that, caught in the right angle, it makes him cuter than some TV actors.

His eyes are my favourite, though. A mix between brown, gold and green, they're so easy to read, but only if he lets them be. They're not sad; they don't droop. Often, his cheekbones bunch up below them and give them that mirthful upward curve that make him look so cheerful and amused. He's got crinkles on the corners from smiling all the time, and if the light catches on properly, you can tell that his lashes are as long as mine (very).

His face, overall, is much like the rest of him: long. It's oval-shaped, his chin is well-defined but doesn't jut out, and it's framed by dark auburn hair (with lighter streaks that sometimes catch the light and seem dark blonde) that covers his ears. Perhaps my favourite after his eyes, his hair has the same big waves that mine does. His bangs spread at the middle of his forehead, giving him an understated "Link" look. They rise a little, fall over his outer-brows, before curving out a little. They're always clean, too, and very soft to the touch. (He doesn't mind me placing his hair when it's crazy with static from the dry winter, so I've gathered this much information.)

I assess all this with a bit of wistfulness, and only get back to normal when I notice he's staring back. His look, though, isn't a teasing glower, the way he usually looks at me. He's just staring back openly, without any intentions, without any shame or embarrassment. I don't feel any omen, good or bad, from his look. Somehow, it's comforting.

Suddenly, he says, "You know, I can't believe we're reaching the end of 2007. It was insane, don't you think?"

I smile. "It was. I wouldn't have made it through the past few months without you, either. You kept me sane with all that thing with Dom and Gen. Seriously."

He chuckles a little. "It was a pleasure to learn how to manipulate, lie, procrastinate, bitch against people behind their backs, miss sleep hours and backstab with you this term."

I laugh. "Hey, it's what we learned in high school."

"It's what you learned in high school. I was in the regular program. Non-IEP, remember? I only did three years in your class before dropping down into the normal one."

"You could have stayed."

"What? To get a diploma that says I know how to bullshit my way through a writing assignment? Bah. I could do it on my own time."

"As you proved this term when you helped me bullshit in all our projects."

"Yeah." He smiles at nothing in particular. "Remember that time you came over to work and we did nothing but play Portal, A Link to the Past, Link's Awakening, Majora's Mask, watch Six Feet Under in my room until one in the morning when Dom had told us to get work done, and when he saw the unchanged project..."

"He was really impressed by the progress we'd made, even though we hadn't touched it since the last time he'd seen it?" I try not to giggle too loud. "Yeah, that was it. He lost all his credibility for me that day."

"I know. Me too. It told me he was as full of it as we were. Funny, though, you didn't lose your credibility for me. Probably because you were my partner in crime―What the?"

I just handed him the envelope I'd been carrying around for the whole lunch. He eyes it suspiciously, like he doesn't know what to do with it. I shake, and he takes it carefully, then shoots me a questionning look.

"What is this?"

I smile and take a long sip of my ice tea. "It's for you."

He blinks. The envelope isn't thick or heavy. In fact, it contains almost nothing. He shoots me a confused look, this one genuinely confused.

"For me?" He can't seem to process this information. "What for?"

I shoot him a flat look. "Slim, just―"

He peers inside it, his expression a little dark in suspicion.

I don't expect his sudden reaction though, and I just sit back in happy shock as his face brightens up like a thousand watt light bulb. He reveals a row of perfect white teeth ―seriously, I maintain that he bleaches, no way can they be like this naturally; as for their straightness, it's due to orthodontia, if I recall from our early high school years― and shoots me the biggest beaming smile I ever saw him give me. Especially since this one is neither sarcastic or stupid. It's just... well, happy.

"It's...! It's...!" He can't seem to keep from grinning as he pulls out a single sheet of paper from the envelope. He's laughing nervously, like he has trouble containing his joy and mirth. "It's my diploma!"

He bursts into sincere laughter when he sees the fake diploma I made for him. It says:

CONGRATULATIONS!

The superior beings of the planet confirm that

SLIM D.

has attained a maximum level of mastery in

BULLSHIT and OTHER CONSPIRINGS

on Dec. 13th, 2007

At the bottom left, I signed on a line titled "Person who is well-respected in their field of study but whom no one else has ever heard about", and on the other side is a fake seal that says "Seal of Authenticity; Absolutely Credible, Much Like Slim's Work".

He is cracking up as he reads this, and shoots me one of the happiest, most laughing smiles I ever got from him. "This," he says between laughs, "is the best freaking present I got this year."

I shoot him a flat look as I try to hide my own amusement.

He seems to concede to my raised brow. "Okay, best gift so far. But still, it's genius work. Thank you."

I raise my ice tea. "Hey, a toast to the two of us not losing our edge in dire moments."

"Cheers," he replies. "And now our break is over. I'll got put this with my coat in the locker room."

"Okay. I'll get back to work."

"Thanks again, CM, seriously."

"You deserved it. Believe me."

He laughs again.

The end of the day rolls around. Something tells me there's something off.

And then it hits me.

It's Slim's last day. I won't see him again at work, let alone this year. Because he'll be off partying in Walt Disney World with his family and Rick.

... I guess you could say I'm kind of sad...?

I hurry into his department, where he's using his last fifteen minutes to fix the sock bundles in the men's department. He doesn't seem to understand why I'm standing in front of him awkwardly.

"Um..." I start. "Hey. I'm, uh, done for the day, so..."

"Okay, bye."

"Well..." God, does he have to be so casual about it? "It's just, um, I probably won't see you before the end of the year, so, uh..."

He turns and shoots me a are-you-okay-why-won't-you-just-spit-it-out-you-weirdo look. Not exactly the best look he can give me.

"I guess... I guess I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year." This is really strange. I never wish this to people who aren't family. It was only in a surprising access of maturity that PB and I had exchanged these polite wishes last week, and it had left me with an inexplicable sense of pride in our group of friends.

Slim, though, doesn't seem won by the polite maturity of wishing one another happy holidays. He just stands there, shooting me his usual stern CM-I-think-you-should-have-your-brain-checked-for-irregularities-you-nutter look.

"Um. Okay. You too."

And he turns to get back to work. I feel like grabbing one of the sock bundles and whacking him with it. Just as I reach for one, our big cheese of a boss stops in front of us. This man is pretty much the most feared in the whole store. My heart leaps as I hurry to think of an excuse to justify me distracting Slim in his work.

"Um. Hi, sir."

"Is everything alright?" He asks with his usual efficient smile.

"Um. Yeah. Yes." I motion to Slim, awkwardly, who is avoiding my gaze and our boss'. "I was just, uh... it's his last day and I won't see him again before the end of the year so I was just saying bye."

Our boss nods in understanding, leaning forward to raise an eloquent brow. "Well, you better hug him now, then, before he slips away."

I freeze, and I can feel the awkwardness radiating off Slim like heat.

"Um. Yeah. Haha. Yeah. I'll keep that in mind."

Slim and I don't hug. We don't kiss cheeks, we don't hug, we don't massage. We just don't. Occasionally, we grab one another's shoulders or arms, or shake each other a little for emphasis, or, if we're just the two of us and feeling distressed, we pass one arm around the other's shoulder, but this is rare and only in particular situations.

But hugs? Yeah, no.

But I turn to Slim anyway, and we exchange testy glances, wondering if I'm going to dare, and if he's going to go along with it. It's awkward, and it's freaky, and I don't know what I want. On one hand, a hug would be nice, I guess. But then, I don't have practice in giving genuine hugs. Especially not to guys who are six feet two.

And then I figure, hell, I won't be seeing him before another month when school starts again, so whatever. He'll have forgotten by then.

So I open my arms and shoot him an inquiring look.

He stands there, screwing his lips into a pensive pout. I sigh, roll my eyes, and make the two steps forward that bring my arms around his neck. I feel him tentatively reach up to encircle my waist, and we both squeeze a little, and then, as I stare up at his ear and a few locks of his hair, I say, with a laugh, "This is really awkward, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he says. "It is."

"Okay." I hurry to let go of him, and he does the same. "Um. Yeah. Let's, uh... strike that from memory."

"Good plan."

"So, um, have a nice trip. Give my best wishes to Rick. I haven't gotten the occasion to speak to him myself."

"You know I'm going to forget that."

"Whatever. Write it in your own blood or something. And um, yeah. Have a nice winter break." I back away, mortified by the awkward encounter. He's gone back to placing socks. I just want to run home now.

But before I can make the final few steps away, he looks up, frowns, and says, "Don't make it sound so final."

"What?"

He looks down at the socks. "I'll see you in January, right?" He peers up at me again.

"Um. Yeah. When school starts again―"

"No, I'll see you before that."

This surprises me. He has no obligation to seek my company during the break. In fact, I'd have suspected him of being tired of me, considering all the badgering I've been doing. So I don't know what to say to this.

"Um... how―"

He shoots me a grin. "I mean, we have our own movie screenplay to write."

This stuns me. Our movie... He had suggested that we make our own movie on the side during the term, but I'd chucked it up to another wouldn't-it-be-cool-if plan that wouldn't actually get done. Of course I'd be overpsyched to work on another movie with him, but I hadn't expected him to remember something he'd suggested three months ago.

So I beam back. "Yeah. You're right. Call me."

"I will." He grins brightly again, then returns to his socks.

And I return home.

And so, as of the 22nd of December, until the 29th, Slim, his family, and Rick are in Disney World.

It would be a lie to say that I don't miss him a little. Of course I'm not losing sleep over him, and I still eat properly, but it sucks that I keep expecting to see him or hear from him before remembering that he's down south and therefore impossible to contact.

He better take a good picture with Goofy, though.

Love,
CM

P.S. FG still moving along. I'm three pages away from the 100 pages mark!

Dear World,

From this moment on, I have declared a state of emergency.

You know something? It is NOT okay to be late for an appointment. It is NOT okay to not call if you can't make it on time. It is NOT okay to give your word that you'll be somewhere and show up three hours late.

Do you know why? Because it is a waste of time and energy for those who wait for you, it is a blatant mark of disrespect for those who expect you, and it is a sign of immaturity and unreliability.

Dear World, if you have chosen to slide into this state, if you declare that absence of punctuality is henceforth acceptable, then I will fight you every inch of the way. Because you know what? It is NOT acceptable, and I, as a result, will not accept it like everybody else seems to.

If I show you the due respect of showing up on time, or calling if I can't make it, then I expect the same in return.

Because a world cannot be built on uncertainties and false statements. If you choose to show up late after guaranteeing punctuality, then you, my friend, are a LIAR.

And so, I request that any soul who is as alarmed by this general fall in standards swear an oath to respect others and be timely from this point on. I am confident that the world would be much improved by this wee, so very easy, attention.

Regards,
CM

'tis always sweet...

...to know you're good.

I just received our evaluation for the movie. You know, the reason Slim and I have become such good friends, and the reason we grew to hate the rest of our team, and the reason I got a white hair two days ago (yeah, I know, freaky!).

Overall, here are the credits for the movie (important to understand why I'm just so gleeful right now):

Producer (and also, apparently, screenwriter, even though it was supposed to be me, which would have made our movie good, but noooo, let's make our movie crappy): Dom
Assistant producer (and supposed to be scripter, but she never got around to doing it, which sucked hardcore for Slim and I later on): Gen, Dom's girlfriend
Cameraman (in theory; most of the time, Dom was the one doing it 'cause he's a control freak): Mac
Sound capture (console), sound editor, artistic director, making-of camcording: Me
Editor, sound capture (microphone), musician (mixing), guy who fetched and paid for the timbits: Slim
Musician (composing): Dague, Slim's friend
Actor: John, Dom's friend

And here's the translation of the teacher's comments...

"In spite of interpersonal difficulties," understatement of the year, "you managed to put aside your differences and lead your project to the finish. Your movie is very introspective―" Sucky, if you ask me. "―but you managed to make it accessible to the spectator. The movie gives us hints (notably through the sound work) all the while keeping its subtlety and poetry.

"As far as picture goes, you have few shots, but they all have their importance in the movie. The first shots put us straight into the ambience. The editing for the car scene is very well done―" Yay for Slim! "―though the tracking shot with the character waking up was a bit too long." This made me laugh out loud, because Slim and I spent the whole production telling our pig-headed producer the exact same thing to no avail. Well, that'll teach him. "You worked it well on editing and sound, however." Well, what do you know.

And here's where it gets good.

"Your strong point is without any doubt your sound editing." Oh yeah. It's the beloved child of Slim's and my combined efforts, so this is very, very good to hear. "Be it the ambience in the garage or the music throughout the movie, everything is well coordinated to give another meaning to your images. I loved the sound of the car wipers that turn into a heart-beat. The off-voices added here and there―" Executive decision on my part, it was late at Slim's place, we were a few hours away from the deadline, and we decided to go against Dom's wishes and add dialogue after all. "―contribute to making your film more accessible without making it lose its subtlety. You've done some excellent work."

Well, thaaaaannnkkk yooouuu. I hope Dom thinks twice now before saying I'm a burden on the team.

Oh, wait, he's going to CHINA, so who gives a flying fuck what he thinks anymore?

We'll see how his girlfriend handles Slim's usurpation tomorrow night... or this night, rather, as I've just glanced at the time... Anyway. Will proceed to a massive edit in less than 24 hours, so hold out for that. It will be the official boom that ends the Cold War forever.

I can hardly wait.

Love,
CM

EDIT:

Ah, the showing. I convinced my parents to get there early. The show was set to start at 6:30, but I told them we should be there at 6:00, at the latest, if only to get good seats.

I lead them downstairs to the theatre, which was, it turned out, closed until 6:15. Still, outside the theatre, I immediately ran into Slim, who hadn't slept much in the past night, mostly because he was, as I was, finishing his photography project, our last project, and had, as per usual, taken the bad decision of doing it at the last minute. As I had, but shush, you don't want my Mom to know.

His face lit up when he saw me, and his previously tired face grew into an overexcited grin. The kind that shines like a thousand watts to dissimulate a less-than-shining state of mind. He looked exhausted, though nobody else seemed to notice.

"Hey!" He greeted me loudly. "CM!" His voice was so loud and tired that it cracked and echoed in the entrance hall. "Guess what??"

I took a step closer and motioned for him to keep it down. There weren't a lot of people yet, but you never let a friend embarrass himself, right?

"What is it, Slim?" I asked, watching as my mother shot me an eloquent look ―she'd love to have Slim as her son-in-law; she thinks he's funny and smart and polite, which I guess he is, but come on, awkward!

"I really missed you last night!" He says, prompting a few eloquent glances from the people around us. I do my best to keep a straight face.

"What? Why?"

He smirks and teases. "Well, I finished my project at four in the morning, and by two I was so tired I wanted to do it military-shifts style, except I had no one to shift with! I practically wanted to call you in the middle of the night to get you to do my work for a couple of hours, so I'd catch some sleep."

I laugh. "I feel somewhat exploited."

He grins. "Yeah, next time I'll be sure to give you that call."I shoot him a straight look. "Tired much?"

"I've been here for the past ten hours!" He says, his face split into a freaky, slightly psychotic smile.

"Okay, that happens to the best of us. Why?"

He shrugs. "Well, I came in at nine to give in my photography project, and then PB dragged me here―" He motions around at the improvised photo gallery around us. "―to help put up the frames because I'm tall, and then he left me all alone and I helped anyway. Out of the goodness of my own heart."

I tease him. "You have a heart?"

He looks self-righteous. "Shocking as it may seem, yes. And then I went to rehearse the presentation for tonight with Fred."

"Oh. So, ready for a game of Giant Twister?"

He frowns. "Turns out we won't be doing any Giant Twister. We didn't have time to set it up."

"You just had ten hours."

"Don't look at ME like that, blame Gabriel!"

"I resent that!" Gabriel called from across the gallery.

I laughed and turned back to Slim. "Yeah, didn't Gen complain about you taking over?"

He frowned in disappointment. "Not even. She just said I'd be better off doing it anyway. Because I'm so theatrical or something."

My brother, next to me, burst out laughing.

I pouted. "Wait. You mean there's no more Cold War? At all? No finale? Nothing?"

Slim chuckled and looked at me with sympathy. "Yeah, I guess not. I guess the Cold War is now the Lukewarm War. Boring and plain, just like that."

"That sucks! No explosions!"

He grinned. "Hey, whatever. We should still have a good time. I mean, nothing could possibly go wrong. Dom is in CHINA."

I smiled too. "Yeah, I guess. ... Hey," I glanced around. "Aren't your parents coming?"

He looked a little uncertain. "Well, they're supposed to. I wasn't sure if they'd all come or none at all, so I have enough tickets, but... Well, they're meant to."

I nodded. "Don't worry, we'll know in good time."

Anyway, by the time we enter the theatre, I've left Slim, now our team's representative, to PB, who made a movie based on my scenario from last year, and their own devious devices, and we find a row near the front to settle down. My brother and I, insane that we are, make origami out of the presentation booklets.

Eventually, Gabie and her boyfriend, then Mitch and a couple of other people from our gang, settle down in my row. The other end is taken by a couple of strangers. I notice that PB and his family have settled in the back, but I can't find Slim.

I notice that Gen is a few feet behind me, though, and she shoots me a mild death glare. Oh damn, now I'll have trouble not to laugh during the crappy movie her boyfriend got us to make!

And yes, let's be sincere here. Our movie, on a score of five, is a two.

Yeah. You got that. Our movie is a number two. In every possible and imaginable way you can think of.

We were set to pass second-to-last, with PB's movie (and my scenario) being the very last one to play.

I must say I was very, very, very anxious to see how PB and his team had modified and adapted my scenario from last term. I'd done a good job, and word was that three teams had fought over who would get my screenplay because it was the only one that didn't deal with 1. mental illness, 2. melodramatic self-pitying, or 3. homosexuals, beggars and other outcasts.

My story was the story of a woman who woke up in Hell and tried to convince Satan that she deserved to go to paradise.

Yeah. Nothing more, nothing less. But you probably understand that it was rather humorous and ended with a punch (she decided Hell wasn't so bad after all, especially since humans were now more populous than demons, and besides, demons don't eat or torture humans because it's a waste of time and energy). Maybe you could give my primary idea a taste of politics, but that wasn't the point. I was just trying to make something light-hearted and funny.

Turns out my screenplay was the ONLY light-hearted and funny story in the whole batch.

Which is why so many people fought over it.

Anyway, I was pretty psyched when I heard that PB was the one who obtained rights to my screenplay. I was pretty confident that he wouldn't let things get too out-of-hand, and since he's a pretty smart and funny type, he would be able to give it the flair and humour I so wanted in the first place, but never got from the movie I worked on.

So tonight I would get to see the final result. I was excited.

I glance around again to look for Slim, and nearly receive a whack on the back of the head.

Slim ALWAYS does something like that. Either he throws his coat over my head, or he pushes me, or he pokes me. Never with the intention of hurting me, obviously, but only enough to make me jump or scream or freak out. I think he enjoys bursting my personal bubble a little too much. Maybe I shouldn't react so much, but hey, you'd freak out too. And I'm guilty of always being a little airheaded or absentminded that it isn't hard to make me jump a mile high.

Anyway, I turn around and glare at him. He's standing with his father in the alley right behind us, and I can tell that, as he surveys the row where we chose to sit, and as he concludes that there is no space left, Slim is disappointed.

And I think I didn't imagine his disappointment to be related to the fact that there is no free space next to me in particular, either. Maybe I'm insane, but I very clearly saw him shoot my brother and Gabie subtle but frustrated glances.

...

But I shouldn't dwell on this, because hey, I would have wanted to sit next to the guy I spent so many hours with on the day where we present the result of all our efforts. I can't blame him for wanting someone to cackle nervously with.

As it was, I spent the whole presentation cackling with Gabie, which was just as hilarious, but I totally saw Slim throw me a sad puppy look over his shoulder when he and his father settled in the row just ahead of us. Mom, who was sitting closer to them, leaned towards my brother and whispered, "You know, you should get the same haircut."

My brother looked at Slim's chin-length hair (which I happen to know is very soft and silky, from fixing it for him all the time) with a frown. "My hair is already that long, Mom."

"I meant the coupe. You should have it do the same."

My brother shot her a flat look. The lights dimmed.

Thank god the weird moment was over.

Gabriel appeared on stage, and the final presentation started.

Nine movies were presented tonight. Nine of them. On a scale of zero to five, only one of them deserved a 5, two of them deserved 4s, the rest deserved 3s, 2s, and one of them deserved a 1, but only because I'm not heartless enough to give it a zero. Because of pity.

One of the movies presented was based on a screenplay by Slim! I hadn't known that his scenario had been up for selection, so it was a little surprising. The story would have been good, but because it was so poorly treated by the team that took it up, it unfortunately got an average 3.

One of the movies was about an obsessive-compulsive freak à la Psycho by Hitchcock, and I must say that while it took two playthroughs for me to understand it fully, it deserves a 4. It was good, in this freaky but funny way.

Another one was about a violinist who learned to play a part for her dead mother. As morbid as the subject was, it was extremely well treated and the sound work was impressive considering that the girl who did the job had no clue what she was doing, as she so openly admitted to us during class. This one also got a 4 in my mind.

But ah.

One of the movies' screenplay was by none other than... our very own dumb Dom.

I noticed Slim's eyes widened suddenly at this, and he turned in his seat in a flash to shoot me a hilarious, high-browed, cracking, open-mouthed smile, one that asked very clearly, 'Oh my god, do you see what I'm seeing?'

My friends, I can now officially tell you that, as cruel as Slim and I were during our badmouthings, we were indeed right on one thing.

Dom will NEVER become a big name in the cinematographic industry.

Somehow, this comforts me, but also makes me wonder where, for the love of god, that moronic asshole could possibly have gotten the massive ego problem he now suffers from, if screenplays like that are what's been falling out of his head all this time.

Seriously.

It was the story of a guy who was walking on the street and who tried to talk to a deaf-mute hobo.

That's IT. END OF STORY.

Try making a screenplay that could warrant an eight minute movie with THAT.

Dom succeeded. He succeeded in making the most boring, pointless, incomprehensible screenplay in the history of the planet.

I thought OUR movie was bad, but clearly he was keeping the 'best' of his two ideas for us, and left the world with his other insignificant idea.

And if you think this is my personal bias against him talking, you should have heard the clapping that followed. It is the kind of clapping that Slim and I humourously refer to as 'the regular-beat clapping'. The kind that goes 'Clap. Clap. Clap.' Not, 'CLAPCLAPCLAPCLAPCLAPCLAPCLAPCLAP!!!!!' We never thought we'd hear it for real tonight, but there it was.

Yeah. It was so bad that even the clapping was dismally punctuated. You'll excuse me for admitting that Slim and I were holding in our tears of mirth by biting our fists, thus making us look like we were choking on a chicken bone and enjoying every second of it.

Then came the time for Gabriel to introduce Slim.

Slim climbed on stage and had to lean down to talk into the microphone, which he did with good humour.

"Good evening, everybody," he started, and a couple of people cheered. Yeah, Slim is well-known and extremely well-liked.

"Hey, I'm Slim, and I was the editor, mic-holder and stage manager on this movie, and before we start, I'd like to make a few thank you notes to a couple of people. I'm doing this on behalf of our producer, Dom, who couldn't be here tonight because he's away. In China. On a, uh... cultural trip."

We laughed at this, because we all actually know that he's going there to visit his friend and gain some 'foreign exchange' credit for his university application, because without that in his portfolio nobody will even consider him.

"So, on the behalf of our esteemed and respected producer," Slim says, earning a few cynical chuckles from those of us who know Slim's real opinion on Dom and the man's general way of being, "I'd like to thank Gen, the assistant-producer, and Mac, our cameraman, and... CM, at the sound capture." At this he pauses, smiles, and says, "With whom I spent a good twenty hours every weekend over the session, making for some of the craziest and most amusing workdays I've known so far. I personally think we've done a great job on the sound editing, so I'd ask you all to keep an ear out for that."

He shifts his weight from foot to foot when Max, a few rows ahead of me, lets out a cynical snort. Max isn't very subtle when he suggests that Slim and I hook up. I hate him sometimes.

"Additionally," Slim continues with the same easy smile, "since I'm technically speaking on Dom's behalf, I'd like to thank myself, Slim D., for the exceptional work I put into this film―" This earns him a general laugh from the audience, who chuckles at his fake ego trip. "―and for all the wonderful editing you will soon be spectator to. My final thanks go straight to Dague, my best buddy, who composed the music of our movie exclusively for us. He couldn't be here tonight, but I think you'll agree soon that if it hadn't been for him, our movie would have been a flop."

He's right on that one.

"So, with all that said, thanks to everybody else who worked with us, I hope you enjoy the movie, and I wish you all a pleasant evening."

He steps off stage to the sound of amused clapping, and the lights dim again.

I lean forward right before our movie starts, and call him. He turns around in his seat with a smirk.

"Did you plan all that out?" I ask.

He purses his lips as the movie starts. "Not really. I had a general outline, but... Why?"

I smile. "Nothing. It was good."

He grins.

Our movie came and went with the regular polite clapping, though I suspect we only got the claps because the music in our movie was bloody amazing.

And then Gabriel comes back onstage and introduces PB, whose movie was the last to be played. By then I was really excited, and telling everybody around me, 'They chose my screenplay! They chose my screenplay!' like some hyperactive child on crack. But it's alright, I didn't mind. I was confident that everything would be good.

PB leans into the microphone. "Yeah, hey everybody. So while we might have gotten a few good movies so far, we've now reached the end of the evening, and it's time for the final punch, also-known-as our movie." The crowd laughs good-humouredly. "I have to say we've worked bloody hard, had long days, and it wasn't always easy, but I think that we've learned a lot from this experience and that we're all ready to move on. No offence, guys, but I never want to hear from you again... Just kidding."

The audience chuckles.

"Thank you to the whole team, we were a lot, so don't hate me for not naming you. Your names are immortalized in the credits anyway. Not all of us are schmoozing schmucks like my best bud' Slim." This earns him another round of laughter, accompanied by a loud 'HEY!' from Slim.

"I'd also like to extend my thank-yous to all those who gave us their time and energy to allow us to film in public places during closing times, notably the Traffik dance club and the general hospital. This extends to the staff and managers, the technicians, and all the people who helped us make this movie a reality. To all of you, a very sincere and heartfelt thank you. I owe you a drink."

More chuckles.

"And finally, since this is already the end of the evening, I'll take the personal initiative of thanking Gabriel for his hilarious animation throughout the presentation."

The audience claps with a lot of enthusiasm.

PB leans into the microphone one last time and says, with the charming hunky smile that gets so many girls, "I hope you enjoy the final punch. Good night!"

And the movie starts.

What's the first thing that appears on screen?

"Based on an original screenplay by CM."

W00T!

And my friends, this movie was awesome. In fact, I'm not even speaking from bias. The movie derived a lot from my original idea, but PB had added to it a little bit of down-to-earth humor that made the audience laugh out loud at least five times. Notably, he'd added a character to represent St-Peter, and the interactions of this man with the one who played Satan were just so hilarious, not to mention the talent of the main actress was undeniable.

And the locations were amazing. They'd filmed her initial death scene in a real hospital, with real hospital beds and real doctors running around the ER in a panic. I'm not even kidding!!

Bottom line, I could rave about this movie for ages. And I don't even hate PB for changing the final punch-line. In this new screenplay, he'd arranged for the lead to show reluctance to return to heaven, but got St-Peter to dab cream cheese across her lip. The lines go like this:

Annie (main character): "Wow... You know what, this ain't so bad..."
St-Peter: (while carrying the brunt of her suddenly relaxed and drugged form) "Yeah, come on, let's get you upstairs."
Satan: "Wait... how..."
St-Peter: "It's a really old trick. ... Philadelphia."

And the credits start rolling. I remember PB sharing with me his anxiety that the audience wouldn't think this joke funny, but the audience burst into so much laughter that his worries must have gone away instantly. I was so happy and so proud of the work they'd done, I cannot even tell you.

So what have we learned from this?

"Hey, CM, going home too?"

I turn to look at Slim as he joins me on the stairs back to the main floor.

"Yeah, well, my parents are tired."

He nods and looks back down at the mass of people who are all excitedly talking about the presentation that just finished.

"I'm glad with how things turned out after all," he confesses. "The movie based on my scenario wasn't perfect, but it wasn't horrible, and it turns out we miraculously saved one of Dom's ideas from utter failure, which is more than others can say, and your screenplay made the audience stand up for an ovation, and PB's moment of glory has come, and Dom is on the other side of the planet..." He chuckles. "So I guess things aren't half-bad tonight, huh?"

I laugh. "Yeah. To think we expected the worst..."

He nods, and glances at a few of our future teammates as they wave at us from below. The girls we've teamed up with have all done excellent work on their respective movies, it turns out, not to mention that we get along so well it's freaky, so Slim and I are pretty glad with our future team prospect.

"You know what?" Slim says, turning back to smile brightly at me, his gaze tired but still satisfied.

Somehow I know exactly what he's about to say again.

"Slim, I think I want to make another movie now."

His grin turns into a broad smile that makes his eyes glint in amusement. "How did you know that was what I was going to say?"

I laugh and roll my eyes. "On second thought, maybe we should keep our distances for a while."

"Yeah, this kind of awareness can't be healthy."

"My thoughts exactly."

"It's too bad you got me hired at your own place of employment. You'll see me every day at work now." His amusement and teasing lilt are so obvious.

I sigh and giggle. "Is there no escape?"

He laughs. "Never! You are fated to forever see me. You will never escape my clutches."

I fake panic, but motion I need to go. "Hey, my parents are waiting upstairs I think, so..."

"Yeah, alright." He looks a little lost, but then says, "I need to find my dad anyway."

I smile. "Alright then. Um... See you?"

"See you," he assures me, and I step all the way up the stairs.

But I don't see my parents. My brother comes up behind me. I turn and ask, "Hey, where are Mom and Dad?"

"They're coming," Lord Llama assures me, turning to look back at the stairs. I immediately meet Slim's gaze, who found his father remarkably quickly, as the two of them are climbing the stairs right behind Mom and Dad. I avert my gaze and start walking away towards the door, but Slim catches up to me in two or three long strides ―damn his long legs!― and starts singing a French song that goes, roughly...

"You were waiting for me,
Admit it,
You were waiting for me,
Until the end of the world..."

Or something like that. Slim was singing this. To me. Weird.

I turn and say, defensively, "No, I wasn't. I was waiting for my parents to come up the stairs."

"Waiting for me," he repeats. "Waiting for meeeee..."

I know I'm blushing, but dammit, what the fuck is he attempting, here?

"Slim," I say, resorting to my last... well, resort: insults, "who would wait for you?"

He looks offended, but smirks and says, on the same tone, "Well, you, obviously. For the same reasons that you'll never throw me in front of an approaching truck even though you always threaten to do it."

Oh god. The last time I'd jokingly suggested that I would push him in the oncoming traffic as we walked to our bus stop―he'd insulted me by saying that I didn't know anything of anything about drums―, he'd very seriously declared: 'No, you wouldn't. If I got hurt, you would cry.' Like I would cry for no one else but him.

This had upset me. I'd been in shock a little too long, long enough for him to turn to me with a knowing smile, before I'd thrown back a flustered 'No, I wouldn't. You don't know anything of anything about me.'

And we'd left it at that.

But now Slim was bringing that up again. God, did he want to kill me?

He was walking away, to fetch his coat, probably. I hurried to get in a final word, and called back to him, "Nobody would wait for you!"

He laughingly called back, "You would!"

And, because I was freaking out, and because my whole family, including his father, was looking at me with these very eloquent raised brows, I called out a final, "Keep telling yourself that!" And hurried out of the school.

And I'm sure that I heard Slim burst into laughter. Not 'Haha, she is so funny' laughter. I mean the scary 'Haha, I'm not the delusional one here, poor fool!' laughter. The kind you so don't want a guy to be laughing like.

Overall, though, in spite of the increasingly annoying suggestions that Slim and I form a couple and be done with it ―seriously, this is starting to get on my nerves for reasons I cannot really pinpoint― the evening was good and satisfying, and a proper end to what was my third term in cegep.

One term to go, and I'm off to university.

Love,
CM

Yesterday night would have been

the perfect night for me to have a boyfriend. I desperately needed a hug from someone comprehensive.

So the Second Cold War has exploded into an open war. Partially by my fault.

Would you have blamed me? Dom and Gen both sent me emails to delegate even more work due Tuesday when I don't even have time to finish the work I already have, and I replied acidly, and they exploded.

Here are the mails sent back and forth that night (translated, of course):

Dom: "Hey, CM, I simply wanted to know if you could print the movie's poster in the format that was asked for last class, and also, if you'd have the time to do the presentation folder since you have all the information. Let me know as soon as possible."

Please note that: 1. He and Gen were not there last class; 2. I DON'T have time to work on this, and 3. The only reason I have all the information is because I'm the one who already did all the paperwork in their stead!

My reply was therefore a tad pissed off (if nicely worded): "Alright. I'll do the presentation folder. Even though it's not my job, like the credits weren't my job (but I did them anyway, hey, maybe that's why I have all the information!) and that it consists in a mere 8½ by 11 sheet with a point form outline on it. Even though I don't have time and that I have, like you all, a lot of work to do. Because what the heck, we're used to sharing the work.

"I would just like to specify that as things are now, Slim and I will have been the only ones to work on the post-production paperwork.

"Including the poster.

"So I suggest that you at least have the decency to agree on which parts you want to present for the oral, because I'm certainly not going to be the one to divide it on top of everything else. I have other things to do.

"By the way, I'll be presenting the poster because I know how to justify it easily.

"CM"

And Dom replied rather angrily: "Are you kidding me? Honestly, I have this vague impression that you're telling me that I didn't participate enough in the movie's production! Incredible, and rather than tell me to go fuck myself like you just did, you couldn't have asked for my help politely? Who do you think you are, to talk to me this way? You know, CM, I have to admit that we've had our differences during the project, but I've always been as patient as possible without ever disrespecting you. And where Slim is concerned, I think he's mature enough to talk to me himself and this, in a respectful way because from what I know of the guy, at least he knows how to behave. By the way, you're the one who wanted to work on all the parts of the movie even though it wasn't necessarily your role."

Please note that 1. My accusation was restricted solely to the post-production documents, 2. Politeness without respect is hypocrisy, and I have it on good account that he has been very hypocritical to me, talking behind my back and all that, and 3. I said I wanted to be implicated, not to do all the paperwork single-handedly while completing all their parts.

I desperately wished Slim would come online, then, but he was still at work. Let me tell you I wanted to drive over there and shriek in anguish.

I've never been told these things before. In fact, most of my previous and present teammates think I make a great teammie. I'm actually well-liked and I have a far vaster circle of friends than Dom does. That said, it is true that I've been acting like a hctib lately, mostly because he has this ultra-defensive attitude and he's inflexible as hell.

Bottom line: plain and simple personality conflict.

I replied like so: "You're right. I spoke fast and crudely, it wasn't right to do so. It is possible that my words spoke louder than necessary, whatever the situation was.

"I must however be honest, and you shouldn't take it as an attack. It isn't my intention anymore.

"I did not like working on this project with you. There. These things happen. My attitude, in the last few weeks, must have given that away. That said, it's a pity that all the implicated parties ―and this does not restrict itself to me― have not expressed themselves 100% honestly by conscience of politeness that I'm beginning to find exasperating, thereby resulting in my aggressive mail. You have not been honest with me either.

"Let's not hide the facts. We have been very hypocritical during this project, and we know all our flaws, and the flaws of others, so well that it tainted our judgement and reflected itself in our interrelations. Of this I am not the only one guilty, and you know it.

"If I seem so bad to you, it must be because I am not accustomed to this kind of situation. I am very aware that your opinion of me is more than negative. I will not try to change this fact, because for one, it's too late to convince you that I am, in fact, a sensible and reasonable person, and for two, it's just not worth the effort.

"While taking this into account, let's see things this way. There is less than a week left to this project. After this week, we will never have to work together again and for this reason, you are free to say what you please, after which we will return to a statu quo.

"We must get rid of this hypocrisy to finish properly, otherwise we behave like sixth graders.

"This is why I'm being so honest with you. I invite you to do the same. I am sick of our tendency to act like we are all innocent of all flaws when we're all flawed.

"I invite you to say exactly what you think. It might be dirtier, but it's healthier.

"As per the presentation folder, leave it. I'll do it. We'll get a good grade.

"CM"

There was no reply.

So now I'm the bitch in the team. And Slim, who has always backed me up, is considered an angel. For no reason other than the fact that he's better at hiding his true opinion.

One thing is certain though. Slim and I will bide our time and get our vengeance.

I practically ambushed Slim online to ask for a rifle. He'd just come home from work and had read the back-and-forth that I'd forwarded to him.

CM: "Do you have a rifle at your place, and if so, may I borrow it?"
Slim: "LooooL the Cold War just opened fire!"
CM: "It's not that cold anymore. It's just plain war now. Have you read all the emails?"
Slim: "Yeah. To think it all started with Mac's question about the oral presentation."
CM: "It's all HIS fault lol!"
Slim: "Let's hunt them down. All three of them."
CM: "I wish I could... But I'm so fucking nice I couldn't."
Slim: "You know what's fun?"
CM: "What?"
Slim: "If this project is over and they're really pissed at us..."
CM: "Yeah?"
Slim: "And they talk behind our backs..."
CM: "...?"
Slim: "... Who WILL they talk to in our backs?"
CM: "LOOOOL!!! Rhetorical awesomeness!"
Slim: "Dom+Gen+...? On the other hand, Me+You+The whole gang+Half the cegep."
CM: "Oh my god, I love your sense of logic."
Slim: "Dom is such a loner and Gen is never there."
CM: "I'm shrieking in satisfaction right now."
Slim: "They don't seem to know who they're fighting against."
CM: "I don't think I'd make it without your moral support."
Slim: "They're fighting against 'Tomorrow's Elite' of CCI."
CM: "OHMYGOD LOOOL YOU DID NOT JUST QUOTE CCI'S SLOGAN!"
Slim: "And there are, like, 15 of them in our cegep that are our close friends."
Slim: "We know everybody indirectly."
Slim: "We are an army."
Slim: "Their opinion of us is NOTHING to the opinion we have on them."
Slim: "We are the TITANS!"
CM: "NooooOOOOoooo! I'm crying of laughter! LOOOOL!!"
CM: "Oh my god, I love you man. You rock."
Slim: "Now let's end that project and get them out of our lives."
CM: "Yes, please."
Slim: "Let's ship them back to oblivion."
CM: "From whence they came."
Slim: "No one knew them before we started bitching about them."
Slim: "... Whence?"
CM: "That's so true, it's almost cruel. (Whence: old word for 'where'.)"
Slim: "Sickass. I'm-a gonna use it."
Slim: "Out of curiosity, is that the kind of word you use on Mr. R., the English teacher?"
CM: "No. It's a little too old-fashioned."
Slim: "Anyway, they've been dogs to us. We'll be dogs to them. Thursday night=me on stage."
CM: "I smile every time I think about it."
Slim: "And now, my dear privileged friend, who hath worked with me for ten billion hours, you are rewarded by this song."

And he sends me one of his songs. I couldn't stop smiling.

I think I'd have gone insane without him.

I would also like to make a note of thank you for Scop, who has given me the ear and occasional nod that I needed while I vented all my frustration on his poor Messenger window. Must be the therapist in him that told me exactly what I needed to hear. Thank you, Scoppy!!!

With all that said, we'll see how Dom reacts in class today. Wish me luck. More updates later today and tomorrow.

Love,
CM

How to Start A War

I am a pacifist. Like the average clueless Canadian, I do not own a gun, and have never even shot from one. I do not believe in preemptive battles or really care about military advancements. In fact, my blissful state of ignorance was broken only once, to nearly strangle a moron who repeatedly called me a whore and a slut for no reason other than his own amusement. And he wasn't even bruised from my retaliation. Much.

That said, I fiercely believe in... shall we say... psychological warfare.

And I never thought it would come to this, but it has.

The Second Cold War has begun.

It would be mildly exaggerated to presume that this Cold War has quite the same amplitude and possible repercussions that the first one had, but it is quite symbolic and therefore just as important as the first.

Like any good war, its origins go deep and far in time. Its seed was planted the day Slim and I looked at each other with a cringe and uttered a common-fronted "Oh, no, please don't say our producer is a moron after all and that we were fooled into a false sense of security..."

Also, like any self-respecting war, its roots are deeply ingrained in a mountain of minuscule frustrations that cumulate to a Mount Everest of loathing. From the constant presumptions on the part of our producer, Dom (pronounced 'dum', if you please), and his girlfriend, our assistant-producer, Gen, to their nagging about our work, we have come to, quite frankly, despise the couple for their asshole-itude throughout the past fifteen weeks.

And fifteen weeks may not seem like a lot, but when you're being run dead by the two backsides who pass themselves off as human beings, you kind of reach the end of your rope faster than usual.

The charges against the accused are as follows (please note the list is non-exhaustive, and that I might have skipped a few offences for lack of space, time, or patience):

-Assuming I know everything about Slim's life, including (but not limited to), whether or not he gave in his papers and documents yet. Even though this is Gen's job to supervise, not mine, and anyway, if you so desperately want to know, why don't you compulsively email SLIM?
-Assuming that we didn't do our job and give us constant SPAM-like reminders, which, after a good fifty of them, becomes mildly annoying, to say the least.
-Tell us how to do our jobs...
-Even though they don't know how to work a console/camera/editing program themselves. At all. Not even how to White Balance it. Even though we had a class about it last year.
-Suggest dumb and unfeasable ideas...
-Then argue that we don't know what we're talking about when we say that, for instance, no, if there is a plane sound on the track, we can't just erase or mask it like in Photoshop.
-Forget to plan something...
-Then blame it on us, who are loaded with all the stuff they already told us to do and which we did methodically.
-Ask for an Adobe Premiere Pro editing file transfer on DVD.
-No really, Dom asked for this.
-Then ask why it can't be done, and scowl angrily when we explain that he'd have to have a 100 removable Gigabytes available, as well as a lot of patience and plenty of source files to which he'd have to remap paths.
-Argue that the editing shouldn't be done on Slim's computer, but offer no better solution than using the snail-like school computers.
-Say they're going to show up for a meeting, and then not, when it's already too late and I'm at Slim's place, starving and sleepless.
-Say they're going to do a piece of the work, and then not, leaving me to do all the damn paperwork even though it's not my job.
-Bitch against us in our backs, while forgetting that Mac has no shame in telling us later about it.
-Treat us like idiots who don't understand art...
-Even though the teacher has backed us up every step of the way throughout the whole term because we actually know what works and what doesn't... from previous experience, PERHAPS.
-Make us work overtime on something, then show up in class with their own version to substitute to ours (number of times this has happened so far: 5).
-Never show up for any of their classes, like they're too cool for it.
-Always come in late if they DO show up.
-Roll their 'r's like it'll make them look artsy.
-Refuse to see common sense, even when it's explained to them by three different people, with ten different valid points.

And I should stop here because I could go on forever.

Bottom line is: Slim and I started hating the hellish duo since Week 4.

That's nine weeks of hating people. That's a lot.

And since we're pacifists, we endured it in silence, sharing only a few eloquent glances and only laughing a little to their faces.

So I hope you understand that they were sort of asking for what we did to them today.

"So, to the producers here," our teacher says, looking at PB who sat between Slim and I, "if you haven't already, please reply to Gabriel, as he's our animator for the show on Tuesday and he'll need your cooperation to introduce your movies. And if you can't be there Tuesday, please let him know who will replace you on stage, alright?"

The producers in the room nod in agreement.

Slim leans back to look at me over PB's nape. "Hey, surprise! Dom isn't here!"

I roll my eyes. "What else is new?"

Slim sighs. "And he'll ask his pig-like girlfriend to step in for him because he's going to fucking China..."

"You mean 'pig-headed'?"

He sends me a crooked smile. "No, I really mean 'pig-like'."

"Oh." I try not to laugh. It's true Gen reminds me of a sow sometimes. And I know it's not nice to say! It's just... she's so round and pink and stubborn and she talks like she's on the verge of snorting or oinking... Anyway, she reminds me of an actual pig. I'm sorry, really, but it's true.

"And those asses aren't even here..." Slim breathes, looking around at the classroom over the computer screens where everyone is working on their Photoshop projects. "They really do think they're all that, don't they?"

It briefly occurs to me that Slim is an amazing actor whose stage presence is tough to rival with. But hey, who am I kidding? Mrs. Piggy will be onstage, not Slim McAwesome.

"Haaah," I sigh, "I had this horrible, terrible thought."

PB and Slim turn to me. I suppose they've learned from experience that whenever I have horrible, terrible thoughts, funny things are about to go down. That, or someone is about to die of embarrassment, whether it be me or another target. Either way, they are practically guaranteed entertainment when I say that.

I should stop saying it.

Slim smirks. "Oh, CM, say you didn't."

I blush. "It's just... Well... It's just really not... nice."

PB grins and readjusts his seating. "Not nice. My favourite. What are you thinking about?"

But I can only look at Slim, who is staring back at me with an all-knowing smile. That's when I realize that he's thinking the exact same thing as me.

No. Oh no.

"Slim, don't give me that look."

"You're thinking the exact same thing, aren't you?"

"It's not nice. We shouldn't."

"But think about it," he says, leaning forward and giving me a tempting, slightly evil smirk. "Think about our sweet, sweet, sweet revenge. Think about the delicious taste of victory on our tongues..."

"STOP," I hiss, glaring at him in warning. "Don't give me that. You know we're only going to make things worse."

"Like they can get any worse?" Slim asks, rhetorically. "I mean, let's face it, we're not even hiding how much we hate them anymore, and they haven't kept it much of a secret in the past few weeks either that they loathe us."

"Slim, I can't do it. I don't have a side that's dark enough to be this underhanded."

"I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!" PB wails from between us, throwing his arms up dramatically.

Slim shoots me a smile that is almost seductive. I realise he's trying to win me over to the bad, insane, crazy, and oh-so-tempting idea we both had at the same time.

I groan. "Please, Slim, the amount of potential shit that can hit the fan would triple in less than five minutes..."

"We'll carry umbrellas around, then. Come on, say you're with me on this."

I'm about to reply with a systematic 'no'. I swear I am. My reason calls for common sense, my common sense calls for patience and good.

But you know what? Sometimes we need to make our own justice. The jury won't hold it against us this late in the trial.

And if it does, who even cares?

"Uuuuugh, fine!"

"YES!"

"Slim, would you keep it down over there?" The teacher suddenly calls from the other end of the class. I laugh, until she adds, "And stop trying to flirt with your girlfriend. Keep some dignity in here, will you?"

Oh my god! No! WHY DOES EVERYONE SAY THAT?

PB bursts out laughing when Slim rolls his eyes and I gape like a beached salmon. From behind PB, again, Slim says, "You know that people at Sears think we're a couple?"

I feel a lump in my throat. "Oh?"

"Yeah." He examines my reaction, and I try to keep it light. "The other day, Jules asked me if I was your 'copain' (companion). I said that yeah, I was your friend, and he freaked out and said, 'Ooooh, friend! Not like boyfriend...' " He snorts. "So old-fashioned. He should have said 'chum' (Quebecois for boyfriend). At least then I wouldn't have needed to clarify."

"Bloody terms," PB teases, laughing. We both shoot him a mild glare.

"So," Slim says, swiftly changing the subject, "You coming with me at the break, CM?"

I sigh. "Fine. But it's only because I want to see Dom and Gen bite a bullet."

"Well said. This is the start of a war."

"A cold war."

"You guys scare me sometimes," PB shudders.

And so Slim and I head downstairs to talk to Gabriel during the break.

And yes. We actually did it.

Slim: "Hey, Gabriel, can I ask you for a personal service?"
Gabriel: "Hey, Slim! Yeah, man, anytime, sure. What's up?"
Slim: "You remember how much of a blast we had last time animating Cégeps en Spectacle?"
Gabriel: "Dude, yeah, totally. Wanna join this year too?"
Slim: "No, no, not quite. I was wondering if you could do us this little under-the-table service."
Gabriel: "I'm listening."

Slim glances at me for approval. I can't help it. I smile and nod.

Slim: (turning back to Gabriel) "Our producer is a dickhead. And he's going to China. And I'm going to replace him."
Gabriel: "Okay. Is that it?"
Slim: "It's just that he thinks his girlfriend is going to be the one doing it. We don't exactly have their approval."
Gabriel: "Ooooh. I see. But seriously, is that it?"
Me: "Well, isn't it going to cause trouble?"
Gabriel: "Hm, well, is this girlfriend in particular capable of keeping a straight face to talk about your movie while playing Giant Twister with the rest of the producers?"
Slim: "Yeah, no."
Me: "Definitely not."
Slim: "I don't even think she can bend that far."
Me: (slapping his arm) "Slim!"
Slim: "Besides, dude, isn't it better to organize a Slip-N-Slide on the stage? You know, with soap and everyone in Speedos?"

I burst out laughing.

Gabriel: "Dude, I can't believe I didn't think of that myself."

He stands suddenly and runs out of the room. Slim and I follow him at a jogging speed. Gabriel skids to a stop in front of an office down the hall and starts banging at the door. We laugh and join him.

Gabriel: "JOHN! JOHN, YOU LAZY ASS, OPEN THE DOOR, I GOT THIS GREAT IDEA FOR THE SHOW!"

By now, Slim and I are laughing so hard that tears are coming out of our eyes.

Gabriel: (Still banging on the door) "JOHN! John, open up, we got this amazing idea! A Slip-N-Slide! With soap! And Speedos! JOOOOHN!"

But John, whoever he is, doesn't reply. The next door down opens, and reveals the face of an exasperated woman.

"Gabriel, John isn't in, as you would have noticed if you had looked at his schedule. And besides, we're not allowed to have water on stage. It damages the wood."

Disappointment fell over us. Gabriel turns to Slim.

Gabriel: "Either way, dude, it's no problem. I'll gladly take you over a bitch any day."
Slim: "That's comforting to know."
Gabriel: "I just hope it doesn't make too much trouble for you."
Slim: "Oh, I'll be fine. I was just hoping you'd watch our backs."
Gabriel: "Yeah, no worries. I'll just say I personally insisted for you instead. No problem."
Slim: "Gabriel?"
Gabriel: "Yeah?"
Slim: "If I was gay, I'd give you a bl―"
Me: "Okay, enough, let's go!"
Gabriel: "Dude, didn't you already give me a bl―"
Me: "Guys!"
Slim: "Yeah, but I'd give you a better one."
Gabriel: "I'll hold you to it, buddy. I'll get you drunk and see what you can do."
Me: "I'm scarred for life."

And so, we have started a war. A cold war. One whose bombs will only explode on Monday and Tuesday. It'll be short. It'll be brutal.

And it'll be so very satisfying.

Love,
CM