When I walked into the lecture hall and sat down, a familiar face greeted me.

Justin Tomlinson, the editor of The Wombat humor newspaper. He was as boy band cute as ever. “Hey, Samantha,” he grinned, “we missed you on Friday.”

“Oh no! I totally forgot about your meeting,” I smiled sheepishly. “I’m totally sorry, I was…ah, super busy with homework.” Justin didn’t need to know about my harrowing trip to the courthouse to save Christos.

“No worries,” he smiled. “Everyone liked your stuff. You should join us at the meeting this coming Friday so you can meet everybody.”

“You mean I’m not black balled for missing my first meeting?” I quipped.

“Naw, we’re pretty laid back. You should totally come by. Same time, same place.”

“4:20 pot time? Toasted Roast? Wait, aren’t toasted and roasted both euphemisms for getting stoned?”

“Pretty much,” he winked.

“Maybe I should draw a pot smoking wombat for you guys?”

He cracked a smile, “I’d like to see how you handle a pot smoking wombat.”

“Cookies and potato chips,” I said flatly.

He was confused. “What?”

“Don’t wombats get the munchies like everyone else when they’re high?” I smiled. “If I had to deal with a pot smoking wombat, I’d give him cookies and potato chips.”

“Totally,” he chuckled. “I have a feeling you’re going to fit right in. Do you think you can have some sketches of Potty the Pot Smoking Wombat by Friday?”

“His name is Potty?” I arched an eyebrow.

“It is now,” Justin smiled.

Wait, had I just inadvertently named their mascot? Maybe I had. “Can I do something combining toilets and pot smoking? Maybe have Potty on the john while he’s smoking a big fat spliff?”

“You can do anything you want. Run with it. There. Are. No. Rules,” he grinned.

Wow, I liked the sound of that. “Okay. I’ll have some drawings on Friday!”

“Awesome.”

I couldn’t wait to tell Christos. I had my first real live art assignment!

SAMANTHA

“You have to draw a what?” Christos asked. He was super drunk.

“A pot smoking wombat sitting on a toilet, for The Wombat newspaper,” I said.

We were in Christos’ studio, where my new drawing table was. I couldn’t wait to start sketching cartoon wombats. I thought Christos would be working when I got home from SDU, but the model was gone and he had been sitting in front of his easel with a bottle of booze in one fist.

Christos slowly swiveled his glassy eyes in my direction. “Do you want me to sneak into the zoo and steal one for reference?”

“What, a wombat?”

“Yeah. I could go all ninja and climb over the fence at night. I know a way in,” he nodded ultra seriously. Then he held his palm to the side of his mouth and whispered, “There’s a grade school on the north side of the San Diego Zoo and their playground goes right up to the back of it.”

I wrinkled my nose, “Does the zoo even have wombats?”

“Probably. We should totally take one and keep him as a pet. I’ll name him Womby the Wombat. Wouldn’t that be totally cute?”

“I guess?” As in, it sounded like a terrible idea.

“We can climb right over the fence,” Christos slurred. “Let’s you and me go right now. I’ll drive.”

“Ahh, you probably shouldn’t be driving or climbing ninja style or anything else tonight. Maybe you should lie down for awhile?”

“But the wombat will get away!”

I chuckled, “I’m sure Womby will be fine for tonight.”

Christos giggled fluidly and leaned his head against my arm, “You like the name Womby, don’t you?”

He reeked of alcohol.

“It’s perfect,” I smiled indulgently.

In a high voice, Christos baby talked, “We’ll make a wittle bed for Womby wight in da coner of da studio.”

“Why don’t we make a bed for Womby right now? You can test it out.”

“’Kay,” he slurred.

I led Christos into the living room and helped him onto the couch. I took his boots off and covered him in a blanket. After grabbing my sketchbook, I sat in the leather chair opposite him and turned on the reading light. I went to work on my sketches of Potty the Pot Smoking Wombat. It took about ten seconds to realize I didn’t know what a wombat looked like. Maybe Christos had been onto something with his wombat kidnapping master plan.

Or I could just look for a picture on the internet.

I dug out my laptop and returned to the living room. With dozens of wombat photos on the screen and my sketchbook at the ready, I dove into cartoon dreamland as I drew page after page of toilet sitting pot smoking profligate wombats.

Who knew wombats were almost as cute as koala bears? I’d been expecting some kind of bat monster, but it turned out wombats had the same big black noses as koalas, and their ears were these tiny little button things.

So cute!

“Are you sure this is okay, Sam?” Romeo asked nervously as we walked across campus toward the Student Center on Friday afternoon.

It was just after four o’clock and we were on our way to The Wombat staff meeting at Toasted Roast. The sun was out and it was a warm end of February day.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” I reasoned enthusiastically. “That guy Justin made it sound like anyone could submit stuff to The Wombat. He said some of the artists work with writers on the comic strips. I don’t know anyone funnier than you, Romeo.”

“What if it turns out Justin was just hitting on you and they don’t need more writers? They’re not going to need my gay super powers then,” he said anxiously. “I become a liability.”

“Relax, Romeo. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Okay. But if something goes wrong, don’t expect me to shoot rainbows out of my fingertips and save the day,” he warned.

“No problem,” I chuckled. “At no time will I require the use of your rainbow super powers. But I may call upon them later. Deal?”

“Deal. But you know how shooting too many rainbows drains me,” he grinned.

“What happened to that infamous Romeo stamina?”

He smiled, “It’s all a facade, Sam. Once I shoot my rainbow load, it takes at least a week to recharge. Don’t tell anybody, or my rainbow reputation will be ruined.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” I crossed my heart with my fingers. “Hey, I bet if you found a bunch of unicorns it would speed up your rainbow recovery time.”

Romeo rolled his eyes. “You’ve been hanging around with Kamiko and watching way too much Adventure Time. I wasn’t talking about cartoon rainbows. The only place I can go in San Diego to recharge my rainbow is Hillcrest.”

“Is that why you’ve been going there?”

“Of course.”

We walked across the Student Center quad.

Outside the Toasted Roast there were a ton of free tables. This late in the day, most of the students were gone, especially on Friday. The only time it was ever crowded at the Student Center in the afternoon was when SDU had a band playing in the quad, but that usually happened in the fall or spring.

It was almost 4:20, so I looked around for Justin Tomlinson. He waved from a group of tables that had been pushed together. Five other students sat around him.

Me and Romeo walked over to join them.

“Hey, Justin,” I said to him. “Everybody, my name is Samantha. This is my friend Romeo.”

A girl with black plastic hipster glasses said to me sarcastically, “Shouldn’t your name be Juliet?”

There was a long, drawn out moment of silence. I think she was being a bitch, but I wasn’t one hundred percent sure. I thought Justin had said everyone on the paper was laid back?

Romeo glared at the bitchy girl with the hipster glasses. In a sarcastic voice, he said, “I have rainbow super powers. I promised Sam I wouldn’t use them, but I will if I have to. They work especially well on hipster bitches.”

I winced, expecting everyone to frown and turn their backs on us, or maybe just boo and hiss until we left.