The Brownie

Yesterday, Dr. Johnson (of the science department) threw a brownie with green frosting to Chelsea.  Today said Key Lime Brownie made an appearance in our fiction writing class.  Chelsea gave it to Logan.  Logan gave it to me and told me he made it himself.  I asked how he wrapped it in plastic and left it on Dr. Vance's desk.  Saxon decided he wanted to eat said brownie.

Chomp.

Chew.

Chew.

Chew.

"That was disgusting!  It was like coconut.  Yeah, very bad choice."

Dr. Vance refused to eat the remainder of the brownie.  At the end of class, the brownie missing one bite was still sitting on the desk.

"Somebody's going to have to take care of that," Dr. Vance said.

"That was a very bad decision," Saxon repeated.

The class concluded the brownie made out of ginkgo tree berries and injected with poison.  Dr. Johnson knew Saxon would eat the poisonous brownie, thus making him incapable of playing kickball.  He knew Dr. Vance would not refuse a brownie and the poison would make the English department short two vital kickball players.  In the rule book we write, we will have to make sure distributing poisonous brownies is illegal.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is what happens when you give a key lime, coconut brownie to a Fiction Writing class...

When the story got back to Dr. Johnson, he was amused.  He said the brownie came from the bottom of a chemistry test tube.  Saxon said it tasted like that could have been true.

<>< Katie

Peace

I walked away from my desk and something white on my chair caught my eye.  At first I thought it was a piece of paper, but when I picked it up I instantly recognized it as one of the words from our fridge.  We have those "create-a-sentence" words stuck all over our fridge.  With three English majors living here I thought they'd get used more but they really don't.  For a long time our fridge has read:

Jesus drinks wine.  Amen.
Cry when you give blood.
Sister rejoice and embrace hope.
One red fish.

I chuckled to myself as I picked up the magnet pondering how on earth it got to my desk chair, but then I read it: PEACE.  I wanted to pocket it rather than returning it to the fridge.

At the end of the semester, peace is in short supply and high demand.  Even though I still have another year, every day is a day closer to graduation and I have no idea what I'm going after that.  Every wedding invitation I receive in the mail leaves me pensive about my own someday.  That all is if I live through the rest of this semester.  Two more weeks of papers, presentations, and finals before a 16-hour drive home that makes me leap back into my homelife at full speed.  Will I be healthy by then or is this not a cold?  What internship will I be doing this summer?  How will that go?  Will my horse with the Kentucky Derby?

Big questions + little questions = lots of questions

But ultimately, it doesn't matter.  It doesn't matter who put the peace piece on my desk either because it was a God-send and I needed it.

Peace,
<>< Katie