Disclaimer: I don't own Jim, Blair or any of the characters of The Sentinel. That honor belongs to Petfly and Paramount.
Blair walked into the Anthropology office and went straight to the pseudo lounge that the TAs had set up. It was little more than a Mr. Coffee and a table, but it served its purpose.
On autopilot, Blair poured himself a cup of coffee and took a large gulp. He immediately made a face at the nasty concoction, "Blech, this stuff is a biohazard."
He took another large gulp as he began surveying the remains of the donuts that had been brought in two days ago, at the beginning of finals week.
This happened every semester.
He would have to stop going to the station, and spend all his time working on tests and papers for school. If he were really lucky, he'd get to go home and shower and change clothes on occasion.
He grabbed a donut that looked reasonably edible and headed out of the office.
As he was dunking the pastry, hoping that the toxic coffee would add some flavor, the secretary stopped him. "Oh, Blair, an officer stopped by to drop something off for you. I just let him into your office and told him to put it anywhere."
Blair tried to think if he was expecting anything and if he'd had it sent to the station. "An officer? As in a police officer?"
The secretary nodded, "Showed me his badge and everything."
A terrible thought began to form in Blair's mind. "Did he say anything about it?"
"Something about not having you around to do paperwork or something," she replied.
Blair groaned and headed out the door, waving a soggy donut as he went.
Sure enough, there was a box on his desk. A rather large box. He groaned again. "Great. Just what I need. If Jim sent me his paperwork, he'll be doing tests from here ‘til doomsday, which won't be long because I'm gonna kill him!"
He lifted his mug to take a drink, but decided against it. Best to face this without the side effects of whatever it was that they were calling coffee.
He stuck the remains of the donut in the mug and set it down on the nearest stack of stuff, and approached the package with trepidation.
The label read,
To: Blair Sandburg
Hargrove Hall
Rainier University.
From: Major Crime,
Cascade Police Department.
He took his scissors and cut the packing tape. Then he took a deep breath in preparation.
Then he took another.
"No. They didn't."
He yanked open the flaps to see a bag of coffee. Not just any coffee. This was one of the gourmet blends that Simon's cousin often sent.
Blair gently took it out of the box inhaled the rich sent. "aaahhhh."
He was just about to set up his coffee maker when he spied something else that was in the box. "DONUTS!!!"
He clamped a hand over his mouth and looked around to see if anyone had heard him. Not seeing a stampede of students, he quickly shut the door to his office. Securely locked in his sanctuary, he rushed back to his treasures.
The donut bag contained several of his cream filled and chocolate covered favorites. The note attached read, "Hey, Hairboy, good luck on finals. H and Rafe."
He could hardly wait to see what else the gang had sent him.
The lotion from Rhonda puzzled him, until he remembered mentioning how dry the anthropology building was and how his skin got cracked. "Good old, Rhonda. She always thinks of just the right thing."
There was a roll of quarters with a note from Megan, "I know how those bloody vending machines love to eat your dollars."
The alarm clock could only be from Joel.
Blair surveyed his goodies. This was great. The gang had thought of almost everything.
He reached into the box for the last item. It was Jim's old gym bag. Inside he found several pairs of clean socks and boxers, his toothbrush and other toiletries.
But all of those were summarily shoved aside when he saw what was on the bottom. "0h, man!! The Sweatshirt!!"
*
Three days later, Blair dragged himself down the hall to the loft. He managed to unlock the door, let himself in, and made it to the couch before collapsing.
"Boy, it is good to be home," he said with a sigh.
"Hey, Chief, glad to see you survived finals again," Jim's voice came from the loft bedroom.
Blair didn't even turn to look, as his best friend came down the stairs, "Barely. Thanks for that care package. You guys are lifesavers. Did I miss much at the station?"
Jim sat down on the second couch as he answered, "Nah, just the same old stuff. You know, Duplicate Defecation, Different Day." He took a good look at his friend, "Um, Sandburg, is the fact that you're still wearing the Army sweatshirt any indication of how finals went? Please tell me that you haven't worn that thing since you got it, three days ago."
Blair cracked one eye and looked at his roommate, "Oh, you know how
it is, Same Shirt, Different Day."
Feedback Please QLHT2@kc.rr.com