Righty-o dahlinks… here is it, IN 400 WORDS ONLY– no more and no less, including the following: dirt, hurt, curt, flirt and an orange.
Dirt and dust.
Dust and sand.
Day in and day out… in her food, in her clothes, in her hair, in her shoes, in her eyes.
Roxy was so tired of dust and sand and dirt and grit.
It might not be so frustrating if she actually found something worth making a fuss about! She was convinced she was the laughing stock of the paleontology fraternity. She couldn’t believe she’d duped herself into falling for Sid when she’d sworn off relationships entirely- mainly BECAUSE she’d burnt her fingers so often! She was still kicking herself and it was nearly seven years later. To think she could have spent the last two years making a name for herself on the Machu Picchu dig with the esteemed Professor Lawrence!
Now she was out here in Death Valley, with little company apart from a man she’d come to loathe, and a bunch of rowdy students doing graduate work, almost all of whom secretly harbored childish dreams of creating their own bloody Jurassic Park!
And watching these ridiculous twenty year old girls flirt with Sidney just infuriated her even more.
She maintained a curt, businesslike attitude with all the students who came through her dig on their rotations- and she’d already earned herself a reputation as a cold and unapproachable bitch. So she kept to herself and pretended not to care- but it hurt nonetheless…
Sid seemed oblivious to her anger and frustration. He carried on regardless. They’d never consummated their relationship- not in the classic sense of the word- and she blamed him for never seeing her true interest in him, even though she’d never done anything except hint. He of course had no idea she’d switched from archaeology to paleontology just to be with him, and as much as he’d thought she was appealing originally, he now avoided her because of her irritability.
And as she dug up yet another completely humdrum Oviraptor toe bone to add to her vast collection of Oviraptor toe and rib bones; and watched him peel an orange and feed segments of it to his newest devotee, she fantasized about knocking him over the head with one the plentiful picks or shovels, and burying him under his own tent… possibly to be found desiccated and mummified by another archeologist in 100 years time!
At least that way she could perhaps provide another researcher with some excitement!