"Herb, I don't love you."
"S'all roight."
"But I don't, k? I mean I don't love you at all."
"So?"
"Well...OK, so you got a point there...What I'm trying to say is get lost."
"Ah, now we're een familiar territory."
This had been the first chance I had to talk to Herbert since the day he had, like burned his lips on me at the temple. We were hiding under a desk because one of W3's lab animals, a big-ass plant this time, had decided to try and eat a few students. Xema had sprang to the defense of the students.
"Have at you, foul plant!"
"Rawr!"
In the weeks since the run-in with my uncle at the temple, she had become a kind of class hero, saving students at every turn. What was strange was that the teachers seemed like they were really disappointed with her. Odd, but it provided the opportunity to talk to Herb.
"So, you're OK with that?"
"Don't bother me."
"Cool."
"We can just be, wassname, funk-burgers?"
"What?"
"You know, just wha, keep it strictly physical?"
"Oh...my...gawd."
Meanwhile Xema had gone on the offensive.
"Take that! And that! And that!"
"My venus flytrap! Nuuuuuu!"
The last bit had come from Ms. McWicked-pants herself. Along with everyone else, Herb and I looked over the tops of the tables to see what had happened.
W3 was kneeling next to her plant, tenderly holding one of its leaves as she bawled like some twit from a Harlaslime romance novel. It looked like Ms. Class Amazon had, like, cut the thing in two.
Xema was standing their in this incredibly egotistical pose, sword in hand, enjoy the adulation of her tools...I mean those lameoids that she had saved.
"Our hero!"
"Yay Xema!"
"I take back most of what I said about you!"
They were actually tossing her up and down in the air; difficult since she had taken to wearing rather revealing armor these days and personally I think she probably weighed a lot even if she was muscular...the tart.
At any rate, between all the other shocks for the day, I felt something weird. Looking down I noticed that there was a gloved hand touching me. Well, it was more like...fondling. I followed the hand to Herb's arm.
"Ah figured out how ah can avoid those nasty burns."
Of all the smiles I've seen, his was the...creepiest. And this includes the one that uncle Shrug-Ziggarat, he-goat with a thousand, nay millions of young, evil that does not wait, blaster of worlds (you get the picture), gave me on my 34512817th birthday.
And I thought I had problems before.
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