Survival Of The Fittest

((Maynard Hurst continued from Wiping All Out))

A trochee, the basic of trochaic, means a group of two syllables in which the first syllable is accented. Tetra means four, so tetrameter means four trochees per line, and therefore eight syllables. The rhythm of such goes as follows...

Sitting behind a desk in the one of the spacious hallways of the English hall, Maynard lackadaisically thumbed through the final pages of a dog-eared book of poetic structures. Rubbing his eyes, he slowly lowered the book and closed it, gently shunting it to the side. While he enjoyed writing poetry, the uninspired descriptions of prosody and styles that this particular book contained were proving somewhat tedious. Still, it was better than the disordered pile of homework that sat beside him, almost tormenting him with its presence.

Procrastination will be the death of you, Maynard.

It was on a rare occasion that Maynard elected to spend his lunchtime in a room other than the school cafeteria. The clamour and bustle of the perpetually busy lunchroom made for enjoyable background noise, but he thought that a change of scenery might prove a better motivation to finish with his workload.

Then again...he had just started a reread of A Song of Ice and Fire, and picking up on the nuances and hidden details that he'd missed upon his initial reading of the series was proving highly enjoyable. He pulled the hefty tome that was A Storm of Swords out of his backpack as a provisional measure and glanced briefly at the near blank sheet of refill that was the uppermost layer of the stack of textbooks and study materials: [font=gabrielle]Robert Browning's Use of Dramatic Monologues to Show Human Morality, written by Maynard Hurst[/font]

So. It was a choice between recreationally reading of uxoricide, or writing an extra credit essay on the subject.

((Daniel Whitten: Continued from Encyclopedia of Ignorance))

The English Hall. You will never find a more wonderful hive of knowledge and learning anywhere in the school. I must be... cautious? Shoot.

Casually appropriating pop-culture quotes for fun and profit was never easy, but the job had to be done. Not necessarily by Daniel, though. Why was he taking all the responsibility upon himself? He shouldn't do that. Never a good idea, honestly.

Sighing, he continued down the corridor on his way to lunch. After a little more walking Daniel noticed a student sitting in a desk down the hall, who he recognized as Maynard as he drew closer.

"Hello, Maynard!" Daniel called out as he approached his friend. "I don't usually see you outside of the cafeteria at lunch. What's up?"

Maynard looked up at the sound of a nearby voice and saw a familiar brunette standing a short distance away: Daniel Whitten, bookworm-extraordinaire and friendly as hell. Maynard was lucky enough to be able to call Daniel a friend. Turning towards Daniel, Maynard grinned and sat up a little.

"Oh, uh...hi Daniel! I was just...reading, is all. It's kinda noisy in the cafeteria and I have a bunch of homework I'm...putting off, so I thought coming in here might prove a good motivation. It...hasn't worked so far, but I'm still holding out hope!"

He paused, and glanced over at the pile of notes and books - they looked so uninviting. Shunting them to the side, he gently patted the empty space he'd made. He noted the smoothness of the desk; that was another plus of working in the English hall - the tables in the cafeteria were so often coated in a thin film of grease and other sticky stuff.

"I...uh...do you wanna have a seat?"

Wow, Maynard. Way not to sound like a serious talk show host. What are you, Chris Hansen?

"Um...what're you doing here? I didn't think this place was...uh..."

Hmm. Bailing on a sentence doesn't work as well as you think it does, Maynard. You need to learn that. Eventually.

"Uh...have you had lunch yet? I've got a strawberry tart in my lunchbox if you'd like a piece."

"Ah, thank you." Daniel said, setting down his backpack and taking the seat next to Maynard. A fellow book-clubber and all-around pretty cool guy, Maynard was one of Daniel's best friends. "I sort of casually forgot my book in English class last period." He said, smiling a bit self-deprecatingly and holding up his copy of American Gods.

"I haven't the faintest idea how, considering how good this book is, but I managed to anyway. A bit of luck, I guess, since I wouldn't have run into you otherwise. Excellent taste in reading material, by the way." Ah, A Song of Ice and Fire. Politics! Intrigue! The murder of most of the characters you care about! Always a good time.

Setting his book aside and pulling out a brown paper from his backpack, Daniel politely shook his head at Maynard's offer. "Thank you, but I have my own lunch with me. Mind if I eat here? The atmosphere is much more pleasant than the lunch room's. Oh, Michael won't be able to join us today, unfortunately. Poor guy's home sick. He sent me two pages worth of delirious, profanity-laden text messages complaining about it."

Not that that's out of the norm for Michael, minus the delirious part. Probably. It an be hard to tell sometimes.

"Ooh, American Gods! I've heard good things about it, but I've never actually read it. I've liked most of Gaiman's other stuff, though, so I don't know why I haven't. Would you recommend it?"

Stupid, Maynard. He just said that it was good. Well, you've done it now. No turning back.

Maynard glanced down at the page. He'd nearly reached the end of the final chapter (excepting the epilogue), meaning that he could likely bring the slightly less back-straining book that was A Feast for Crows in his bag to school the next day. If he had time with all of this homework...

"Oh, yeah. I love the series. Nearly everybody I like is dead, though. There's Bran and Jaime and Dany and that's about it. How're you finding the second season of the show, I-"

Grr, Maynard. You can't just assume that he watches the show.

"I...uh...that is if you watch the show, of course. Heh. I...uh...anyway, what've you got for lunch? And that's a great pity with Michael. He's a nice kid. Still, you're company enough."

Maynard smiled, and pulled his lunchbox from his rucksack.

"It's really quite fascinating. It's, like, half mythological stuff and half a road-trip across America. Definitely worth checking out. Have you read Good Omens? It's what introduced me to him." Mostly because Terry Pratchett co-wrote it. Long live Pratchett, long live Discworld, long live a third item that Daniel couldn't think of.

"Ah, unfortunately, I haven't seen the series yet. I know that I should, one of these days, but I don't watch much television anyway. As long as Brienne is alive I am happy, character-wise."

Daniel reached into his backpack, pulling out a brown paper bag. He reached into the bag and grabbed a sandwich, taking a bite from it. "I've got, you know, the standard generic lunch, trademark. Sandwich, water, cookies." Nothing fancy, but still far better than the abomination the cafeteria dared to call food. Daniel was always afraid his food would crawl off his tray if he took his eye off of it for even a second.

Maynard fished the tart out of his lunchbox, the paper bag that it'd been enwrapped in sticking to the glazed surface of the pastry. It was a pretty little thing, purchased on a last-minute detour on his way to school that morning. Something to brighten his day in between this stack of essays and readings. He took a small bite out of the yellowed crust as Daniel talked, confirming a recommendation of American Gods.

"Mmm, I'll be sure to ask after it at the library...it does sound super interesting. Ooh, yeah - I've read Good O-"

Maynard only managed to get through half of his intended sentence when he accidentally swallowed a lingering flake of pastry, leaving him to cough loudly and roughly as his throat cleared.

Ugh, Maynard. Can you get through one conversation without screwing up somehow?

"Bleugh, sorry. Where was I? Oh, yeah. Yeah, I've read Good Omens. I quite like Pratchett as well. I mean, I'm not as much of a fan of him as I am of say...Jordan or Martin or, yeah, Gaiman, but I do really like his stuff. He's humorous, which is nice. I...think I might need to read a little bit of Pratchett once I'm finished with this...not exactly lighthearted book."

He gestured towards his copy of A Storm of Swords.

"It's odd. All of the book...all of the massacres and deaths of all of those awesome characters, and it was the snow castle chapter that really got to me, I think. It'll probably do the same this time as well. I hope they do it justice when they get around to it in the show. And...the show's really good! I think they've cast it really well. Lots of gore, although that's to be expected. Also, there're certain additional...explicit scenes, so I wouldn't watch it around your parents and stuff."

He blushed as he brought the subject around to Game of Thrones's relatively notorious "sexposition". He'd never been particularly comfortable talking about such stuff - aside from his relatives, he'd not had very much extended interaction with girls that wasn't stilted on his part (excepting Gwen, of course).

"Uh...yeah, anyway...yeah, I'm quite a fan of Brienne as well. I think the actress...uh...what'sherface, is quite good."