Butterfly Effect: The Creative Process Page #4

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and place your bluebooks

on my desk before you leave.

You too, Mr Nelson. We're all

in the same time-zone, here.

So how'd you do, Evan?

I don't know. I might have got

some of the stories mixed up.

Was it Pavlov that conditioned

his dog to lick his nuts?

Typical psych major,

a complete wise-arse.

And how's your project coming?

Are you still planning to change

the way we humble scientists

- view memory assimilation?

- Don't really have a choice.

Oh, jeez, it smells like

patchouli and arse in here.

Cricket, this is my well-mannered

roommate, Evan.

Yeah...

you're the one

that f***ed up the bell curve

on my anthropology final.

- Later, Thumper.

- Bye.

F***ing dick.

- Wow, sweet girl, man.

- I found your shirt, bro'.

Oh, you sick f***.

Alright, man, get dressed.

You're taking me out.

Why, what'd you do,

ace another midterm?

No.

Better than that,

seven years, no blackouts.

F*** yeah, bro',

let's do this!

- Oh, yeah!

- Yeah! Come and get it.

Be gentle with me! Be gentle!

I'm postcoital. I'm tender.

Did she cradle the balls

and work the shaft?

Nice.

Look at this f***ing guy.

Get the f*** out of my bar.

So, which one of you

has the pet worm?

Worms, plural!

Ah. That's so gross.

Talk to him about it.

He's got the fetish.

Watch it.

It's a psych project actually.

It's a study on memory loss.

Better explain before all this excitement

gives me a heart attack.

eats it off the floor.

Well, if I can figure out

how the memories

in a simple worm function,

it should help me to understand

the complexities...

of the human brain.

Let me get this shot.

- What the f***, weirdo?!

- F*** this...

Well, I guess

that's your game.

Go, you go.

It smells like sex in here.

Yeah, Thumper had

a busy afternoon.

You're kidding?

He's so big.

Yeah.

Well, I guess charisma

and eyeliner go a long way.

- You want a beer?

- Yeah.

You got any incense or scented candles

or something?

Okay.

Whoa, no.

Let me put this away.

Most guys usually tuck porn

under their bed.

All you've got

are comp books?

Yeah, they're my journals.

I've been keeping them

since I was seven.

Wow.

Read me something.

I ought to be getting

something out of this.

That's all I've got to say.

Here we go.

'It's like my mind refuses

to believe what I'm seeing.'

'... Hearing Crockett

make those awful screams.

Just writing about it

gives me the shivers.'

Come on. Go on.

'It was like Tommy

was possessed or something.

There was a hate

in his eyes that... '

Are you okay?

Where am I?

What the hell's going on?

I can't get it open!

Drop it or I'll slit

your mother's throat in her sleep.

Uhh! I got him, Lenny.

Save Crockett!

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