Hot air doesn't help to feel more comfortable in the dusty rooms in the attic. I might've almost gotten used to it, came in package with hours to spend at the lit club, but our unexpected guest looks like he's about to have a heart attack. Today we're having a tough one, given he hasn't cracked yet, despite the fact Mekki ditched all the classes today, and there's only one reason high enough on her priority list to do so. She's been hunting all night again. Where does she find these poor guys, I wonder.

We have stage one here, torture by idleness. The balding man with a round face and not the slimmest belly in the world dreams securely tied up to a metal chair, much like the electric one. I swear, her kinks know no bounds. Executor herself reads the last pages of some huge folder sitting on the edge of her table, legs crossed, changeless red midi skirt shamelessly rolled up. It's really, really hot in here. Anyway, none of my business, not yet. Writebin index and emergency copies come first, since it's almost time to do a major update. I don't get why it's so damn important if one of our regular graphomaniacs decides to give up on his misery and pull his scribbles out of the shamebox, apparently she just wants to have dirt on everyone in the college. Fine by me.

"Rise and shine!" a loud slap dully resonates in the room.

Strap in, the party's started.

"Où suis-je?!" as with everyone, his first reaction is shock. "Mmm!"

That's why an ingenious construction made of two belts now prevents him from talking. Its design may or may not have something to do with my engineering skills. What, I'm just a guy here, it's her who started all this stuff!

"So what are we looking at here, artistic inconsistency, fillers, pandering, racism," her tone tells she's leaning towards him, "who cares about racism, it's that it was put in an inappropriate place in the script that matters. Red herrings, premeditated deception, by Lord it's a long list. Tell you what."

Out of pure interest I peek out of the xerox room to watch the man squint his eyes in an attempt to capture the abductor's face. In vain, of course. Come on, windows on the south-west guarantee straight sunlight from behind her back. Besides, soon it'll all be over.

"Most of this bullshit isn't even critique, let alone a crime description, that's the good news. The bad news is the remainder is still enough to sentence you."

"MMNNNN!"

"Don't worry, Momma won't hurt you. 'A light breeze causes the naked branches overhead to rattle like wooden windchimes.'"

"MMAAAAARGH!"

The improvised gag pops out of his mouth with a force of a gunshot, light rays shoot out of the eye sockets, ears and mouth. I watch the regular show with boredom.

"Whooops, I lied. 'This is a popular retreat for couples in the summer. The desiduous trees provide a beautiful green canopy, far out of sight of teachers and fellow students.' "

"AAAHH! AAAAAAYAAAAOOOOOH!!!"

Oh, this one is burning in real flames. That's nice, we don't often get such easy ones.

"'But now, in late winter, it feels like I'm standing under a pile of kindling. I breathe into my cupped hands and rub them together furiously to prevent them from numbing in this cold.' And that's the end of you, Day-vid Fuck-king Cay-ge. Hey rag, you there?"

"Fuck you," I answer, knowing it's pointless to argue at this point.

"That's more like it. Clean the mess up. Geez, how far has this world fallen if just sufferable screenwriting is enough to purge the plague?"

Noticing the notebook in her hands, I ask a regular question.

"So what are you writing today?"

"Exorcism 101, a guide for beginners. Protect your family and yourself."

Everything as always, what a boring day.