What's your damage, Heather? You
God, I'm so sure. Don't blame me,
blame Heather. She told me to haul
your ass into the caf pronto. Back
me up, Heather.
Okay, I'm going, I'm going. Jesus...
strides into the lunchroom pandemonium.
expensively but not trendily; her hair, dramatically tied
is sexy, dangerous, and mysterious. She is a mythic bitch.
Veronica. Finally. Got a paper of
Kurt Kelly's. I need you to forge
a hot and horny but realistically
low-key note in Kurt's handwriting
and we'll slip it into Martha
Dumptruck's lunch tray.
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