The View from the Rafters [18 Chirreb 4260]
Professor Achitka was not in the slightest worried about me sitting on a rafter, or on a windowsill, or upon the wide, flat, polished head of the poorly-dressed blue-green Herethroy man in the front row for that matter. There wasn't room for an inkwell there, even if the Herethroy hadn't been in the habit of nodding off thrice a lecture. So it was the rafters for me.
Upon the rafter I chose were: seven and a half pounds of dust; four quills in various degrees of delapidation; a Cani beret in last year's style with Halyn clan symbols; two-thirds of a grilled beetle sandwich that cannot possibly be more than a month old; a copy of Vengitarn's -The Squib and the Squaffern- with all of the dirty bits carefully underlined in green ink (using a ruler!); a seed-bun which, I daresay, was baked by Flokin before the universe was sprouted; and a very beautiful copper fur-pin that probably cost a dozen lozens.
Next time, I shall come a third of an hour early, and bring a towel.
Still, if I ever need a place to hid the Mellifluous Minnow of Morzongo and Morziblam, or some other ancient artifact of archaic awfulness, I know just the rafter for it. The mold on the sandwich shall protect it better than a roomful of animated skeletons with burning eyes and giant crossbows. Current Mood: chipper