And yet, as the party winds through its endless hours Moods seems to be in no hurry to engage with Wump, who sort of floats through the perimeter of the party. You try not to follow him or look at him and desperately attempt to enjoy yourself at least a little by rehashing last year’s winning gab with some freshmen, but Wump Magnassasson is lodged firmly in the corner of one of your eyes at all times.
The party starts to thin out more and more and you become terrified that Wump will leave, but Moods is still on the dancefloor, still headbutting people, still sidling up to Nub’s truck finger gang who are getting more and more belligerent when recounting stories about their violent acquisition of their truck obscenity display company rivals. “Go, Moods,” you think to yourself. “Go! Dude!”
But you quickly realize that Moods is onto something. You notice that the more Moods makes himself the center of attention, the more Wump seems drawn to him. And finally, with the party down to its embers, Wump sidles up to Moods. He has something to say to him.
You don’t leave with Moods. At some point he left, and so did Wump. You catch a ride back with Mick McFruche and the Lottner twins.
You must have finally dozed off at some point into feverish dreams with Buck Duckett chasing you through a building that is somehow simultaneously a lecture hall and what you remember as your best friend Doug’s house in kindergarten but it’s also an orangutan shelter when Moods gently shakes you awake. “Dude,” he says quietly. “Dude.”
He gives you a few seconds to get recombobulated. “It’s on. Tomorrow night. Pants drop for the whole team. It’s on.”
“Let’s go tell Duckett,” you say.
“I’m beat. Dude. Let’s see him tomorrow. Imagine what’s going on at the hotel at three in the morning.”
Tell Duckett now
Wait to see Duckett in the morning
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