Straight No Chaser

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i woke up with marcus behind me, fast asleep. that was nice.

under the streets at the eastern border of the college, there is this weird sewer configuration that, when wind travels through it, whistles to sound for all the world like one of those pipe whistles from chuck e. cheese's. just air, says marcus, every time it wakes me up. the sewer thingy again.

three years after the first time he explained that, even though he's repeated himself dozens of times since, i don't believe it; i am skeptical. i asked to see it, i wanted him to walk me down there so i could look, because i don't believe in anything i can't see, and the noise is just way too freakish to fall in line with anything natural.

it reminds me of, remember elementary school? how whenever someone got called to the front of the cafeteria for some form of discipline, the entire front table would start in this chant of "awwwww!" that would then spread to all the surrounding tables, till the entire room was contributing to the offender's embarrassment? louder and louder, the most humiliating thing ever--it sounds like a daintier, pipe whistle version of that. which is probably why it bothers me, because the only way to hear it is to be on the men's campus after three in the morning, probably in someone's bed, still awake for whatever reason.

with the exception of that freakishness, which sounded no fewer than twelve times throughout the night, it was good, a nice way to usher out the last day of classes. the big off-white blanket felt good on my skin, and he liked the first half of gilbert grape ("g-squared," he calls it, cornily) better than expected.

i had a scary dream, though.