Alfred stopped dead in the middle of the Blue Room. He was looking at the most stylish individual he had ever seen. She was wearing a beautiful blend of unusual fabrics that complemented each other perfectly. The focal point was a green ribbon that she had tied around her neck.
Normally Alfred wouldn’t approach someone so cool, but he had just done laundry yesterday and he was wearing his best outfit. He worked up the courage and walked over.
“You have such a wonderfully cohesive sense of style. I don’t usually do this, but do you want to hang out later?”
At first she didn’t look up. She hadn’t moved much since Alfred first noticed her, now that he thought about it. Finally, slowly, her head rolled back and she looked at him. She had deep, soulless eyes and her skin looked like it was sliding off her cheeks in some places. She smiled and her teeth seemed like they might be rotting.
Alfred was enthralled. She had smiled at him! He figured that was a good sign, and since it didn’t seem like she was going to say anything, he decided to just meet her back in the Blue Room in a bit.
He came back later that day, and again the next day, and everyday for several months. His crush had become much more vocal since the first time he met her. One day they were sitting at her table in the Blue Room, talking about nothing and everything.
“Sometimes I think that Brown students aren’t actually more physically attractive than other Ivy students, but people think we are because we have a better sense of style,” Alfred said.
“AAAAhhhhhrRR,” she replied, and Alfred knew in that moment that he was in love.
They were married on a bright summer day in the Blue Room, and they had a gorgeous reception in the Blue Room. For many years they lived happily in the Blue Room, until one day, when Alfred was very old, he noticed that his wife wasn’t breathing. He called the doctor and paced around the room impatiently until she showed up. When the doctor finally came, she only took a moment to examine the woman before turning to Alfred.
“I have good news and bad news. The bad news is, your wife is dead. Like, really dead. Like, she’s probably been dead for seventy or eighty years at least. I’m sorry. But the good news is, she is by far the best dressed cadaver I have ever seen.”
Alfred was devastated. Once the doctor left, he decided to take his wife’s gorgeous green ribbon to remember her by. He untied it, and as he was slipping it off, her head dropped to the floor. He glanced down. “Well, that explains some things,” he said, and then he turned and shuffled out of the Blue Room forever.
Image via.
