[center][u][b]Comac time, SLOOTS![/b][/u][/center]

Most people can’t escape the consequences of a night of heavy drinking. Most people accept that a wild night will equate to an unpleasant morning. Not Connor MacQuarrie. His boundless enthusiasm for anything and everything and his many years of practice meant that Connor was fully awake by 6:30am, even though he’d been drinking with some buds until late into the night.

He started his day with a quick bit of exercise; a few pushups and crunches followed by 10 minutes with his jumprope for some cardio. He was in and out of the shower in 4 minutes; one of the many advantages of being a man was getting away with using 3 in 1 shower gels. As wrapped a towel around his waist, he checked the time: 6:50. He had forty minutes before the assembly started, plenty of time for his favorite morning activity: Procakes.

There was a kitchen in their room, but Connor prefered the electric griddle he’d brought with him for exactly this purpose. He pulled it out of the cupboard and set it up in the living room he shared with Silas, then grabbed the 4kg bag of pancake mix he’d bought, and lastly his giant tub of chocolate flavored protein powder. The protein powder was what distinguished procakes from regular pancakes. He put on an [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=omaoZfQN5cc]energetic song[/url] and got to work, singing along with his own lyrics as he did. “I wanna make love with you, pancaaakes, pancaaaakes!”

As he dropped the batter onto the griddle, a drop of sizzling oil landed on Connor’s bare chest, causing him to let out a sound quite a bit shriller than one would expect from a guy of his size.
“EEOOW!” he shrieked, then gave the griddle a wounded look. “What’d I ever do to you griddle-bro?” He sighed and wiped the oil away, briefly considering NOT cooking shirtless anymore but decided against it, then became momentarily distracted trying to wiggle his pecs one at a time, but his efforts produced only a slight twitching. Some day… Connor had returned to Caelburry later than most of his peers. He'd shown up halfway through the welcome BBQ yesterday, quickly found some of the football guys and the rest of the day was a haze. He hadn't actually seen his roommate yet, though he knew who Silas was, just not very well.

As if Connor's thoughts had summoned him, the door to Silas's room opened and Connor's reclusive roomie emerged, already fully dressed. He stopped dead at the sight of Connor and his pancakes.
"Sup bro, you want some procakes? Make mad gains, get HELLA SWOLE?" he emphasized his point with a flex. It took a few seconds for Silas to respond. "No thanks, I had breakfast already. Should I expect this every morning?" he asked, as if he knew the answer.
"I'm sorry Brovaldi, I can turn it down, but yeah you can expect this most mornings."
Silas just sort of shook his head in resignation. "Well, I'll see you later."
"Peace mang, fuck bitches get money!"

The pancakes were done quickly, and Connor added the finishing touch: pure Canadian maple syrup, made by his grandfather and uncles on the family estate, none of that Aunt Jemima crap. Connor wolfed down 4 in about 30 seconds, put the rest in his minifridge, and threw on his school uniform before racing out the door.

The assembly passed quickly for Connor: he spent most of it making weird faces at people and trying not to get caught. He spotted Jacob and gave him a long range fistbump. Julie got a bizarre grin and a furtive wave that made her giggle into her sleeve. He spotted Alena a few rows in front of him, but her back was turned, so he threw a bit of eraser at the back of her head until she looked back, at which point he waved and licked his lips sensually. She made a flustered face, then pointed to the corner of her mouth. An exploratory probe with his tongue revealed a dab of maple syrup leftover from breakfast. He began to lick it away extra-sensuously, but a reproachful glare from Saul stopped him.

Soon enough assembly was over, and Connor was off to homeroom. A gaggle of lost looking freshman girls was blocking a stairwell, but Connor didn’t shorten his stride or slow down in anyway. “GET OUT THE WAY SLOOTS!” he yelled, barging right through them. “Freshman homerooms are on the third floor main hall, heed my words, I AM ALL KNOWING” he yelled over his shoulder. Connor took the steps three at a time then went charging down the corridor to his own homeroom. His energy and stature meant he was the first student there, though Mr. Zimmerman was already at his desk.

“Hey Mr. Zim,” he said amiably, “where’s Oedipus? Wanna verify that he is not planning to murder me, that would be TERRIBAD. No but really I am ready for some rad reading and writing, I’m ‘bout that academics.”