TEXT ADVENTURE #32 | FUCK NO, SCHLUMPFE

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1

Albert Lunsford unpacked his belongings and settled into his new room.

Cambridge had changed.

Scripture flickered on the bedsheets as Lunsford dribbled crumbs in
his bed. Viagra, Cialis, NiagraX. On, no off switch.

Lunsford could never remember the interactions.

Still, this was going to be easy.

He pulled out the magazines.

2

Julius Schlumpfe knocked quietly.

Then, louder.

No response.

Door opened, Schlumpfe tossed his bag on his bed, drug his cases into
the room. Just as his head hit the pillow he noticed Lunsford.

Well.

Schlumpfe sighed, running his hand across his face and through his
hair, smearing his bright blue bodypaint. Whatever, he was too tired
to care.

Lunsford smacked his magazine against the wall, where it stuck. A
prayer card worked its way loose and tumbled to the floor, cursing
audibly.

“God dammit,” echoed Lunsford.

“I’m trying to jerk it,” he added.

Schlumpfe pulled the covers over his head. Bodypaint streaking the
sheets.

“Leave me alone,” he concluded, and fell asleep.

3

“Haven’t we used this one already?”

“Fuck no, Schlumpfe.”

“Well, it sounds familiar.”

Lunsford was keen on his own idea. Induced Paris syndrome, applied to
the network. Monetized, application of the usual balms could finance
untold adventures. He only had to get Schlumpfe to agree. Shared
byline. Lunsford was confident they’d sweep the grading curve.
Typically, Schlumpfe was less certain.

There also dangled the question of applying the technique in the
field. Here, on campus. Moving beyond the whitepaper into practical
application, possible vindication of a low grade, humiliation of the
questioning professors. Frankly, Lunsford’s enthusiasm was
offputting.

“Let’s keep it on the page,” Schlumpfe suggested, none too hopefully.

“Like
a modern day novelist,” Lunsford assured him.

4

Lunsford had made a study of the blue bodypaint. For his own reasons.
Properties were elastic, nothing made sense. Whatever, Lunsford
figured, I’m not a chemist.

When asked, Schlumpfe seemed reticent to discuss his new religion.

"It’s like the Holocaust,” said Schlumpfe,“People hound us wherever we
go.”

"It’s the grooming,” offered Lunsford.

Schlumpfe punched him in the arm, leaving a bright blue fist-print on
his 6XL t-shirt.