Fillmore sat quietly at his desk while the seconds ticked by like tics tacking on to a tack board at a ticker-tape parade. He felt as though he were floating above his chair, as if the buzzing lights above poured over him, showering him in their graces. He could even feel the wetness on his face from being soaked so.
"Fillmore!" Beck yelled at him. Fillmore righted instantly, wiping the drool from his face.
"What do you want you stupid cow?" Fillmore snapped at her. The insult was uncalled for; she was a cow, but not stupid. Becky didn't hold it against Fillmore, it was his nature to snap as a turtle.
"You're drooling all over my thesis!" her hooves waived wildly. Fillmore was perplexed. He wondered how her thesis has wound up underneath his face, then he wondered how a cow could write a thesis. He even began to wonder if turtles could actually drool, but Becky would not allow it. "I can't believe I trusted you to edit it."
"If I was supposed to edit it, why are you freaking out that I got some drool on it?" He began to go back to his drooling turtle question. It mainly bothered him because he thought as a turtle he should know better.
"Because I'm presenting tomorrow, without a peer review I cannot know for sure if my argument on the conditions of pastures in west central..." Had he drooled before? Fillmore could not remember. He opened his mouth and let his tongue hang out to see if he would drool.
"What the hell are you doing? Are you even listening to me?" Becky looked rather cross.
"Nah wreery" Fillmore said over his tongue. He receeded into his shell only to feel like he was suddenly moving. He popped out to see Becky walking away on the ceiling. Before he could grasp his orientation his vision was quickly blurred by a gob of drool. "Dammit all"
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