“Fine. I’m going to start packing my things.”
Gert was making a beeline for the only door still open. Mike stepped in his way just as Gert was about to enter.
“Whoa there, pardner,” Mike said with a Southern drawl. “Where you going in such a hurry?”
“Mandatory room inspection!” Gert was nearly frothing at the mouth, his pen was already making contact with the clipboard.
“On whose authority, Gert?” Mike asked him.
“What?! You dare to stop me!? On my own damn authority!” Gert raged, and then made a motion to push past Mike.
“Listen, asshole,” Mike said, pushing Gert across the hallway to the far wall. “I’m going to say this real soft so that you can’t subpoena any witnesses, so pay attention.” Mike got right up to his ear. “You ever try to enter my room without my permission, I will beat you to within 2.58 centimeters of your worthless existence.”
The rage in Gert’s eyes cleared for a moment as he looked into Mike’s eyes, trying to ascertain if this were an idle threat and whether he should continue with his mission as planned.
The tension in Gert’s bunched muscles eased as he realized this might not be the best time to make his last stand.
“This isn’t done, Talbot, all I need is one more infraction and you and your halfwit friend are out of here. And I’ve got a feeling that neither of you idiots will make it another week.”
Mike released Gert from his grip and left him to weasel away to another unsuspecting victim.
“What happened?” Paul asked, pulling Mike in the room and closing the door.
“We’ve got to keep pressing his buttons,” Mike said. “One of us is close to leaving and we need to make sure it’s him. That dude is a whole suit short of a standard deck.”
“Looks like all you get when you stretch an asshole to its limits is just a bigger asshole,” Deb said.
Mike stopped what he was thinking about, he looked over at Deb before he busted out laughing.
“What?” Debbie said, blushing, not sure exactly what she said to elicit such a response.
Paul had joined in with Mike and once tears started to flow, Deb joined in, not even sure what for.
It was the seemingly least innocuous prank that finally pushed Gert to his limit and the trio had nothing to do with it. The local chapter of Iota Gamma Upsilon sorority (or more commonly known by the call letters of their house as I Go Upstairs, a reference that many had found to be a truism much to the delight of all the party goers) saw to that. As an initiation right to their pledges, they had given each one a giant container of Vaseline and told them to use it around campus in any manner they saw fitting, but to not come back until the tub was empty.
Randi Betcher had used the container in a way that half the basketball team and part of the track team would not soon forget, but that is a tale for a much different kind of book. Wendy Treadman had decided that spreading the sticky gel on the door handles at every residence at the James House dormitory was just absolutely the funniest thing since just about ever!
She had just finished up and was heading out the door when Gert had hit her shoulder, nearly knocking the plastic jar to the ground.
“Watch it!” Gert had sneered at her.
She was going to call him a big fat jerk, but she told her best friend, Jenny, that he had crazy eyes and she just wanted to get away from there.
Gert had just received his first grade of C in his entire academic career and could not even begin to process the information. He had nearly needed to be tossed from the class when he got loud with the professor, arguing that he could not come to class because there were people out to get him.
Professor Garrity had told him that he needed to get some help and that maybe he should just go home and get some rest.
Gert had mumbled to himself the entire walk from the far side of campus. He had wanted to hit the little Humpty Dumpty girl that had gotten in his way as he walked into his dorm. When he made it to his room and his hand came down and made contact with the Vaseline on his door handle, something inside of Gert quite literally snapped. Had anyone been close enough to listen, they might have been able to hear it.
He didn’t scream, his normal and usual venting mechanism; this time he internalized it. Gert tossed his book bag, smashing his floor lamp which landed on top of his illegal toaster oven, something he had purchased since the attacks so he would not have to leave for dinner. Gert leaned up against the door, his ear pressed firmly against the cool metal, the first person that walked by his room was the guilty party; he was convinced of it.
Soft footsteps padded down the hallway. “Gotcha, mother fucker,” he breathed out softly. He waited until he was sure the guilty party was outside his doorway doing all sorts of unspeakable things against him again.
Gert ripped the door open. “I know what you did,” he said calmly enough, but the red-rimmed eyes and clenched fists belied his demeanor.
Debbie stared back at him in shock and a growing sense of foreboding. How could he know? I’m going to get thrown out of school for this.
Gert was somewhat taken aback when he saw Debbie standing there. He knew that she secretly had a crush on Mike Talbot, that asshole, but could she be in on the pranks with him? Of course! It all makes sense that she would be, probably trying to impress him, I’ll fucking show her.
“I need you to come in here so that we can discuss this.” His words were calm enough, but emotions swirled like a whirlwind inside.
Debbie felt trapped, but maybe she could mitigate the damage. She stepped into his room, Gert looked up and down the hallway for any witnesses, then quickly shut the door.
“Please sit,” Gert said motioning to his desk chair.
Debbie noticed the tossed book bag and shattered lamp, and for the first time since seeing Gert at the doorway, she took a long at the Resident Assistant. He looked bad, in fact, worse than bad. His eyes were streaked with thick heavy lines of red, his sockets were sunken and his features were even pale for a man of European descent.
“I need to go,” Debbie said, just realizing that she was in the den of the enemy.
Gert slapped her so hard, she thought she could hear her fillings rattle. Should have taken better care of my teeth was her only thought as she sat hard in the chair, the momentum of her fall sending the chair rolling for a couple of feet until the rollers came in contact with Gert’s throw rug and then her neck snapped back.
Gert was on her before she could defend herself. His heavy blows rained down on her. She wanted to scream, but Gert had delivered a shot to her stomach and she found herself devoid of sufficient air to produce sound.
Gert pushed Debbie off the chair and onto his bed. “Now I will show you how I discipline bad people the correct way,” he said as he began to pull his belt off.
“Please, no,” Deb said, weakly holding her hands up to defend herself.
Mike had left class early. He had been having another major disagreement with, his what? What was she truly to him? He didn’t know. They dated, they had fun and they were intimate, but she was in a committed, long-term relationship with a football player from a distant college. Oh man, I’m the OTHER guy in this relationship, he moaned.