Face-Suckers

"What a boring date!" Rori exclaimed for the umpteenth time.

The Writers' Block meeting was attended by the regular three (Dax, Yoda, Ayliel/Me), plus the usual latecomer (Puff), and an unexpected visit from the long-absent president (Rori). The aspiring authors sat in a clump under the pavilion at a neighborhood park, occasionally casting glances up the hill to a pair of teenagers that Ayliel would have found fitting subjects for her satirical playwriting assignment in creative writing: The Attack of the Tonsil-touching, Lip-smacking Face-suckers. It was well known in the club that both OHS and PGHS were having Homecoming that day; the majority of the absent members were at PG's event. What was more apparent was that the couple went to one school or the other--the girl was wearing a violently pink formal.

"Yeah," Yoda agreed. "I mean, they didn't even bring a lunch or something to make it look legit. They just sit there making out."

Puff laughed. "Who can tell which head belongs to which person? I can't."

"I can't separate the arms either," Dax said.

For anyone who was simply listening to the conversation, nothing made any sense. In between discussing writing ventures, there was the dream-analysis portion of the meeting, the sketch-book investigation and discussion of comics portion, and the usual "why haven't you been updating, you good-for-nothing slacker?" interrogations. And the entire presentation was sprinkled with frequent examination of the couple on the hill. For a gathering of socially inept, human-interaction-entertained writers, the two proved to be highly intriguing. The subjects discussed varied from a passing old man being the girl's father to sneaking up behind the pair to blow Ayliel's lifeguarding whistle before rating the aesthetic composition of the couple's positon from different angles, thus instigating a debate on which view was superior.

But honestly, if one was planning on sitting around for nearly THREE HOURS making out, wouldn't one want to do it in a secluded area (i.e. not a public park) and maybe not in the middle of the day? And one definitely doesn't want to be within visual scrutiny of the nearest set of wannabe novelists. They had the gall to give us funny looks when they left the park.