"That took too damn long," Miss Professor said with tears in her eyes as Shersharmjorp entered the classroom. "So we got ice cream," she rubbed her temple, wincing from the ice cream headache.
"Where were you?"
S-jorp looked around the classroom. Everyone had ice cream in front of them. Every color of the rainbow. And all the toppings: cherries, sprinkles, whipped cream, salt, bananas, pickles, more ice cream, hot fudge, butter.
This would be an OK way for Shersh to forget about her mutilated mother for a bit.
"My mom died. Can I have some ice cream?"
"We're out. Sorry," Miss Professor stared at Shersh. They weren't out, she just didn't want to share any more.
"Sit down, Willow."
"It's Shersharmjorp now."
"That's ridiculous! Why? What?"
"I changed it just now, in the hallway."
"Your parents must be disappointed in you," her words hung in the air. Miss Professor realized the depth of that insult in this moment. She leaned in, grabbed Shersh by the shoulders and looked deep into her eyes.
"So disappointed."
The loudspeaker crackled again.
"Oh, Shershmajrop?" It was Pocketwatch, "I forgot to tell you how they identified her. She'd been skinned and the patch with her tramp stamp of two arms with bulging biceps with tribal tattoos fisting her gaping vagina was found covering her eyes.
"So crazy!"
The loudspeaker clicked off.
Shersh looked out at her classmates.
Zarp coughed into the awkward silence. He always had to make it about himself.
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