Snapshots, part three: Split Kit

The final installment!

Jim Pywell is a name you’ve probably never heard of, but he once made me feel as though I had just sunk through the floor never to return to the normal world again. One day in college, we finish a lecture and we are coming down the stairs, heading to the canteen for lunch. Outside the canteen, there is a large cardboard box with several white packets in them. On the box, it reads ‘Free Chlamydia Testing Kit’.

Jim turns to me with a sly smile.
“Should we?” he asks.
“Should we what?” I answer, not quite getting the gist of it yet.
“Take a test!”
“Why, do you think there’s something wrong with you?”
“Oh c’mon, just for a giggle!”

So we take a packet each and go to the toilets. Finding the place empty, we choose a cubical each and the fun begins. I open my packet, but let out a moan at seeing that the contents are broken.

“Mine’s busted, how’s yours?” I call out above the cubicle.
“Fine thanks, nearly there!”
“Oh god, what do you even plan to do with it?”
“Send it off to the clinic of course!”

We both leave our cubicles and he proudly displays his full bottle. I throw mine in the bin as we leave. Jim swaggers towards the canteen like he’s the king of the world. We enter the canteen, I behind Jim at a normal pace and he all smiles at high speed. We enter the canteen, and suddenly something terrible happens.

A bump and a splash are the first sounds I hear, before a tense silence takes hold. Jim has just crashed into a sharp dressed man, complete with black suit, white shirt, black trousers and black tie, although most of the man’s chest has turned to a yellowy-green colour. A distant voice that comes closer suddenly breaks the silence.

“So as you can see, Principal Davidson, the canteen now has all the… Oh, hello Jim, hello Fred, now then Sir as I was saying…”

But here our lecturer from earlier looks down at what the rest of us are looking at. He now looks as if he doesn’t know whether to show anger towards us for what we’ve just done or remorse and sympathy for the Principal he is showing around the canteen.

The yellowy-green liquid spreads slowly downwards, dripping off the Principal’s shirt, onto the floor and through the cracks. I wish I could join it.

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