Shantih Journal 2.1 - Page 30

“They aren’t just feathers; they’re the princess’ memories.” “It seems like it would be best to just forget about the princess and take some Nyquil. Sleep will help you stop being contagious.” One day Fairfax created a challenge for the both of them. He called it the “Fuck It List.” This was a list of the types of women he and David needed to have sex with before they died. He asked David to help come up with it. The final product was: a virgin, an artist, a woman who writes terrible poetry, a magician, a clown, a woman who knows Cascading Style Sheets, a woman who can orgasm in the voice of a cartoon character from one’s childhood (excluding individual Pokémon), a gymnast, a princess, a woman who can drive a boat, and a woman whose total pets sums to a prime number which is greater than three. It seemed like an unrealistic task that neither of them took seriously. It was just a sexist joke between an aggressively sad, charismatic drunk and his uncomfortable, awkward friend who didn’t know about how men do things really. Then Fairfax had a chance encounter with a woman who ran a circus, and single-handedly satisfied nearly half of the criteria in one go. That circus had 31 animals in the name of that one magic, acrobatic clown. Fairfax grew cavalier about the whole thing. A week later he found an artist to sleep with. A month later a there was an open mic with a woman who made bad decisions both in her poetry and her life. Eight months later Fairfax met a graphics designer named Ashley in his anthropology class. Fairfax tried to set them up. David was very interested. She wasn’t. At least, she wasn’t interested in David. Shortly after, Fairfax crossed off “virgin” and “Cascading Style Sheets” off of the Fuck It List, but swore she wasn’t Ashley. David couldn’t stand the guy anymore. He hated the way he introduced himself to girls, “I’m Fairfax, if that’s too dumb you can call me ‘Firefox.’” I Ё݅́չمѡЁձ́յȸ%)݅ͻeЁٕ%Ё݅́ѡ͕Ցɑ䁍Ʌѡݽձ)͔AЁ5ɸͥэՕեѡ՝Ʌɑ́ݽձ)ٔЁ͔ѡ䁭܁ݡЁݕɽ͕ȁ̸%ЁЁeЁ͕(