Lack due to overabundance.

“…et le subjonctif du verbe etre est…” droned Flow’s not-really-favourite professor as he scrambled furiously to solve a sudoku with (or despite) Drag’s trusty help. The casual observer might or might not note the tip of Flow’s tongue peeking through the corner of his mouth as he frowns in mock frustration, but only those who contain more than meets the eye could see two shapes a few inches above his head, floating in mid-air as if gravity was selective, arguing about something and gesticulating furiously.

“Of course it’s not 4! There’s already one in that row!” says the darker one of the pair with a sigh.

“Well, at least I’m trying! You wanted to write a 666 in that middle square there!” comes the exasperated reply of his counterpart, but without any real conviction.

“What can I do, old habits die hard”
“Too hard, it seems… Why do you guys even bother with all those sixes anyways? I’ve always found them both unaesthetical and without any value. For example, why not take 8? Or maybe 2? 7 is a good demonic number as well…”

“You guys Up There don’t really care about things such as flair, but where I come from, it’s one of the few things we have left…”

“What you mean is flare, F-L-A-R-E, Snyde” quips the angel, Aziroth, with a glint in his eye.

“Oh, would you please cut it out, at least we have good company, needless to say the music is a lot better down there…” intercedes Snyde, obviously speaking about an unpopular topic.

“…but only when it’s not pierced by brief but extremely loud screams, n’est ce pas?” smugly finishes Aziroth, savouring in his first verbal victory.

Snyde, who was just preparing to launch a counterattack against the smiling angel, notices a sudden commotion in the classroom – their debate had engrossed them so much that they missed the bell and now their quarry had disappeared from their sight and protection.

“Oh. Shit.”

Only a few yards away, Flow is engrossed in a debate of his own, clashing opinions with Drag and Nut, two of his best friends, who seem to be holding out quite well against eachother’s assaults.

“No, man… If you keep saving yourself for the right girl, you end up being rusty and useless when the opportunity arrives,” Drag intones, with a serious look on his face “, but what does it matter, I’ve found mine and I’m in love and last time when we were doi-…” however, his storytelling gets momentarily interrupted by a quick flick of a wrist in a groin-ward direction which leaves him crumpled and more than just a tad annoyed.

“Flow, what the fuck did I tell you about doing that?!” he only half-heartedly yells at his friend, knowing that even though it hurt, his friend only reminded him of boundaries, of one sort or the other.

Well, I guess I’ll have to stop here for the moment, my eyes are shutting and with my new moleskine, I’ve got tonnes more to write in the following days.
Stay tune if you want to know what happens to Drag’s balls, Nut’s philosophy and whether Aziroth and Snyde finally settle a score.

Or maybe not.