#ray things

Hey, guys. As you may have noticed, I haven’t gotten around to the latest requests for free readings in my inbox. I’ve recently come down with a sore throat, cough, and fever, and I’m very low on energy. I need to take some time, listen to my body, and heal. There’s still some answered asks in my queue, so you may see some popping up. Feel free to send divination requests in, just know that I can’t get to them immediately.

Send me really bad jokes, puns, and pick up lines. I’ll write a mini-story centering around it.

Ray feels incredibly stupid. This faculty party isn’t by all means mandatory, but he has so little things to do on a Friday night that he has decided to go anyway. Besides, he’s the new language arts teacher, and it can’t hurt to get to know a couple colleagues. He opens the door to the gym and can’t hold back a small laugh at the decorations. It looks like prom, but decorated by lazy, drunk teachers. Which is probably exactly what happened.

Ray makes a beeline to the refreshments table, hoping like hell that there’s something stronger than spiked punch. Hoping like hell that there is no spiked punch, now that he thinks of it. He breathes a sigh of relief when he spots a familiar bottle, and asks for a double. He turns toward the “dance floor” and swirls the plastic cup slightly before downing the whole thing in just a few swallows.

Oh god.

The ridiculously good-looking science teacher walks in, and Ray turns back around to ask for another, not realizing until too late that now he probably seems like a total drunk to the gym teacher who is tending bar. He takes the refill with an apologetic smile, and meanders toward a table nearby.

Glancing at his watch, he sees that it’s 10:00 on the dot (good thing he showed up late, huh?) just as the lights are dimmed. A low “ooooh” murmurs through the crowd, along with ripples of laughter. He sees a few couples dancing to the corny ’80s music emitting from the tinny speakers, mostly teachers that were fortunate enough to bring husbands and wives.

And if it isn’t the science teacher, walking directly toward Ray through the crowd. He takes another drink, then wipes his palms nervously on his pants. At least the walk seems slightly tipsy, and the words come out rushed, as if they have been there awhile.

"Hi, I’m Ray. The new language… arts…. teacher…." He trails off as an arm slips around his waist. He looks with bemusement and nervousness as Ridiculously-Good-Looking begins to speak, almost cutting him off, but not quite.