*He had his head down against the desk, attempting to sleep. His left hand played with the springy, plastic tip of his model spaceship, listening to the soothing sound of its boinging.*
*The man obnoxiously and loudly knocked on the door to his office, trying to startle Kilroy awake. He couldn't remember this fool's name. John? Something like that.*
*Kilroy got up with a start, nearly falling out of his chair. He fixed his collar, placing it above his lab coat's lapel. He cleared his throat... twice, and fixed the nameplate at the edge of the desk.*
"Don't you knock? Don't you knock?"
"Whatcha think that was? Common man, we gotta skitty if we wanna make it to the department party. You comin'?"
*Cow-poop... the Department Party... the one day of the year he dreaded most of all. Just thinking about it made him do those weird things, like washing his hands or opening and closing his office door.*
"You look like shit, man. You ain't gonna catch those foxy mamas lookin' like that. You catch my drift? Oh, I heard the Waynes are even gonna be there! Sponsors of the university or somethin'. Well, I gotta keep on steppin'. I'll see you then."
*And so 'John' left, wearing his stupid woven headband that stoner girl in the Biology Department gave him.*
*He spent the next hours pacing in his dorm room. Eventually, he got his grip and put on his jiving threads... a nice brown suit, bell-bottomed pants, and a matching tie. His tie-clip had a Lockheed Constellation made of molded brass. Howard gave it to him.*
*He steeled his nerves and prepared to leave... but he watched the clock on his desk flip past the hours as he stood in front of the mirror, tying and retying his tie.*
*He was exhausted by the time he arrived at the party. It was so loud, and bright. He kept his hands close to his chest as he weaved through the large ballroom.*
"Ugh. Mary-Jane..." He grimaced.
*The party-goers, mostly upperclassmen, reeked of the stuff. He nearly bumped into a lady dancing under the disco ball.*
"Hey! Watch it freakazoid!"
*Despite hardly ever leaving his room, it seems he already caught a reputation from the few ghostly interactions he had with his peers. They were all scientists... He always found it hard to believe civilized and respectable people would act so... tactless. How'd they get in here, when he was much smarter... and yet barely scrapping by?*
*He managed to run past the rest of the people in his way, covering his mouth to keep the awful smell of their toxic souls away. He pressed himself into the furthest corner of the room he could find.*
"Hey, space cadet! Get your groove on man! Whatcha doing all the way over here? Ain't gonna end the night in someone's pad standing around like that! Take a chill-pill!"
*'John' forcefully shoved a cup of punch into his hands. He frowned and quivered at the offering. Don't cry, Kilroy. Don't cry.*
*The men thankfully left him to his devices, and went to dance with some floozy. He hardly had a minute to collect his thoughts and find a place to put down this awful, disgusting cup, before the Department head, Dr. Pavel, gave an announcement.*
"Gentlemen of Gotham University, it is my honor to present the award for best academic research alongside the stunning Mrs. Martha Wayne! Give a round of applause for the lady!"
*He took a sharp breath, using this moment as the perfect opportunity to make his way back through the crowd and find a trash can for this cup... and leave! Stat! Why'd he come? He knew he couldn't do this!*
"Good evening, esteemed scientists of this wonderful city. The honor is mine to declare my husband's reinstatement of funding for-..."
*The bitch droned on, as he ran, hopping over balloons and spilled drinks. He finally pushed through the heavy wooden doors and made it outside.*
"I-I did it... I did it."
*He panted, angrily pulling at his collar to loosen his tie.*
"What a stupid idea, Kilroy! Stupid!"
*He bent down in a crouch, shaking, tying and retying his tie.*
*What he didn't know... is that he wasn't alone. This was the day he would learn to always check his corners... like a good soldier should.*
*He let out a blood-curdling screech as the entire bowl of punch was poured on top of him.*
*The unidentified men and women cackled as they ran off... The only thing he saw... the only face he would remember... was that boy in the back... the one in the varsity jacket... the one that turned around and said...*
*The night was cold... colder when you're soaking wet. He curled into a ball and cried.*
"I hate alcohol. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!"
*He didn't care what awful things those kids wanted to do to him... No... he only couldn't stand the idea of the spiked punch burrowing into his skin and toxifying his brain. He hyperventilated... and cried and cried. Nobody came. Nobody saw. He sat there, alone, for the rest of the night.*
"...Reinstating funding for the University Computer-Integration Program."
*Mrs. Wayne finished, and the roar of applause echoing from the ballroom even reached Kilroy's ears.*
