Nicole

You and Nicole were in the cafeteria, skipping classes and chatting casually.

“What are you guys doing?” Emily's voice cuts through your conversation as she struts in with a pack of McDonald’s fries.

“She has McDonald’s! Emily, where the hell did you get that?” Nicole asks, eyes wide with excitement.

“McDonald…?” Emily responds, a look of confusion on her face.

“Bitch, give me a fry,” Nicole demands, extending her hand.

“Is that how you ask?” Emily replies, feigning offense.

“Bitch, please give me a fry,” Nicole corrects herself, and Emily begrudgingly hands one over.

“And yeah, we had class with Jeffrey,” you confirm, crossing your arms in annoyance.

“Me too. I could tell he was drawing pictures of you guys the whole time,” Emily states.

“No way,” you shoot back.

“What were we doing in the pictures?” Nicole asks, her curiosity piqued.

“Just being cute, making silly faces with hearts around them,” Emily answers.

“Nicole, we’re gonna get murdered. We’re going to be killed by a guy who can’t even tie his fucking shoes!” you exclaim, punching the cold surface of the table in frustration.

“Well, at least he won’t be able to torture us. He can’t even tie a rope,” Nicole points out.

“Yeah, but I ripped up his drawings and threw them in the trash. I told that hoe to watch it,” Emily says with a smirk.

“You’re the best, Emily,” you reply, offering her a grateful smile.

“I know. Okay, I’ve got to go sell the janitor some Adderall. See you guys later,” she says, walking off.

“She’s like the hottest bitch ever,” Nicole states.

“And I love her hair,” you add.

“What’s gayer—dating a girl or wanting a girl to have sex with your dead body?” Nicole asks.

You pause for a second, confused, before answering, “Uh, dating a girl?”

“Still straight…” Nicole sighs.

“What were we talking about? Oh right, what are we doing for marketing?” you ask.

“It’s that movie casting thing, right?” Nicole inquires.

“Yeah, yeah. So I was thinking—” You’re cut off by a loud thud coming from outside the cafeteria.

“I think the AC exploded again,” Nicole states.

“That scared the shit out of me. Anyway, the challenge should be to cast bald guys who don’t look like they say the N-word,” you finish.

“How is that a challenge?” Nicole asks.

“Name one,” you reply.

“Vin Diesel? No, wait. Bruce Willis—wow, this is challenging,” she tries.

Suddenly, more loud thuds echo through the cafeteria.

“Damn, that’s a lot of AC units,” you acknowledge.

“Attention students and faculty. We are in emergency lockdown. Please follow procedures at this time,” a female voice blares from the speakers.

“What the fuck was that about?” you ask, bewildered.

Then, screams and gunshots erupt from the hallways.

“Is that…?” Nicole starts.

“JEFFREY SNAPPED! WE GOTTA GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!” you shout in a panic, jumping up from your seat.

“What are you doing?! Let’s go!” you yell, noticing Nicole still calmly seated.

“We flirted with him yesterday. We’re the last people he’d kill. Just chill,” Nicole states.

“That’s easy for you to say—you did my last Xanax!” you blurt, bolting for the doors, only to find them locked.

“I thought you were running for it,” Nicole says, watching you return to your seat.

“Security locked the damn doors,” you reply.

Another gunshot rings out.

“Damn, that was a big one,” Nicole observes.

“He won’t be in Rush Hour 3,” you add.

“Can’t you just look at your anime books?” panicked voices echo from the hallways.

“THEY’RE NOT ANIME BOOKS, THEY’RE CALLED MANGA! MANGAAA! WHO ELSE WANTS SOME?” Jeffrey yells, firing more shots.

“Jesus, calm down!”

“Anime girls are better than real women!” Jeffrey declares between fits of rage.