Mrs. Connors comes over to help.

..You awoke to the sound of Randall's voice, accompanied by a hand shaking your shoulder. "Yo, Tim!..Wake up, dude! Wake up!"

"Huh?...Wuh-What is it?" you said, opening your eyes and sitting swiftly up on the couch, slightly startled to find Randall standing over you, seemingly already up and dressed.

"It's time to get your lazy ass up, that's what!" he told you, letting go of your shoulder, "Cause we got a shit load of packing to do!"

It took you a second or two to register what he meant by this, before of course remembering that this was the 'main reason' you were here, something which you were supposed to have already started yesterday, but obviously never got the chance...

Rubbing your eyes and letting out a yawn then, glad to have finally gotten some sleep (even if it wasn't quite enough), you took a quick glance around the room to see that Randall had already been hard at work, taping up dozens of boxes for packing that were now strewn all over the place. Watching then as he headed over to the video camera and tripod in the corner and started disassembling it, you were reminded of just what you'd discovered recorded on it last night - the image of Randall furiously fucking himself with a dildo while screaming out your name being as vivid now as it had been then. What the hell had that meant? you wondered, feeling extremely confused about what it was you'd seen. Was Randall turned on by you? Did he record that to masturbate to because the thought of fucking you actually got him off? If that were the case, why then had he seemed so cold and distant when you'd done the deed yesterday? It had almost seemed like he'd had sex begrudgingly - as if he hadn't really wanted to. So what then was with the tape?

Once again, the actions of your friend only brought up more questions, questions that were really starting to hurt your brain, as you continued to just sit there, watching him now carefully wrapping the offending item up in bubble wrap before placing it into a box. "Come on, dude, don't just fucking sit there!" he said, noticing you staring, "We got to get all this stuff packed by three!"

"And who's fault is that exactly? Little Miss. Tipsy..." you countered, reminding him of his indiscretion as you pulled yourself up off the couch.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Yesterday didn't exactly go to plan. But if we get a move on we can get all this stuff done before the removal men show up."

Getting the impression that he was already paying the price for what had happened yesterday with Mrs. Walsh, you decided to let him off the hook for now, and get to work helping (figuring there would be plenty of time later to make him squirm).

After quickly jumping in the shower and putting some fresh clothes on, you returned again to the living room and decided to comment on Randall's current appearance - looking pretty compos-mentis in comparison to how he'd been last night - dressed in a pair of denim shorts, a white t-shirt, loose yellow blouse and his hair once again pulled back, out of the way.

"Well I did feel a little ropey first thing, but I think all that sleep I got last night really helped with the hangover," he told you as you grabbed a box and joined him in packing. "Besides, nothing perks you up quite like an apartment full of crap to box up and very little time to do it!"

"Don't worry, no one hustles like the 'Con-Davis brothers!'" you smiled, recalling an old pseudonym the two of you used to have for yourselves way back in middle school. Adding with a playful little chuckle as you sized up Randall's less than 'brotherly' body, "...Or should that be brother and sister now?"

"Just shut your yap and get packing!" Randall laughed, giving you a playful punch on the shoulder for good measure.

With the two of you working mostly flat out then for what was left of the morning, you managed to actually get a fair chunk of Randall's stuff boxed up before you stopped for a quick break, needing some sustenance before you both collapsed. Though it really should have been a chore (packing stuff - especially someone else's stuff - not exactly being the most fun activity on the planet), you found yourselves actually starting to enjoy it - discovering the odd interesting item of Miss. Card's that Randall hadn't yet come across, all the while making jokes and cracking wise like you always did, and just generally fooling around. You were also enjoying finally getting to spend some time with Randall as Randall again, so much so that you really hadn't given much though to any of the stuff that had been bothering you last night. It seeming of little importance right now as the two of you sat at the kitchen diner eating lunch.

"We're not doing too badly are we?" Randall said, in between bites of his ridiculously healthy sandwich.

"Nope. Only your room, whats left of the bathroom and the closet to go and then we'll be all done. Then the removal guys can handle the rest."

Smiling at this, no longer looking quite so flustered as his had this morning (possibly due to his hangover having now completely worn off), Randall then gave you a hearty slap on the back and said, "We make a darn good team, Timmy boy! A darn good team!" before, in typical Randall fashion, adding a little jab. "Well, I make a pretty good team...you just make an awkward Doofus who stands about asking stupid shit all the time like. Which box does this go in?', 'Don't we need a label for that?', Mommy, how do I go poo poo?'"

"Shut up, you ass! If it wasn't for me and those labels you wouldn't be able to find anything once you get to your new house! How you ever managed to organize a lesson plan for class I'll never know!"

"Maybe It's like because I'm totally super awesome and you suck. Ever thought of that?"

Matching his childish jibe with you own, you told him, "Nu-uh. I think you'll find that you're the one who sucks!...Sucks on Principal Johnson's dick!"

"Hey, screw you! That's true!" he laughed, "I'm not making that shit up!" referring of course to the supposed diary entry where Miss. Card admitted blowing your high school principle.

"Yeah right. I think I need to see a little proof before I believe that one."

"Oh you want some proof, do you? You want some proof?" he asked, as a sly smirk suddenly began creeping it's way across Miss. Card's beautiful face, "Well how about this then...?" The next thing you knew, he'd grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl and started waving it aggressively in the direction of your face! "Is this proof enough for you? Huh? Come on Tim, suck on my banana dick!"

You of course, couldn't help but burst into laughter, the sight of him brandishing a piece of fruit as if it were some kind of sexualized weapon being absolutely hysterical! Slapping it away and jumping from your seat, Randall immediately then began chasing you around the living room, as you hid behind chairs and vaulted over the coffee table. It was crass, stupid and totally immature, but the two of you were having a blast, trading playful insults as you did.

Just as he'd managed to finally get you cornered though, your joviality was suddenly interrupted by the sound of Randall's buzzer, and ceasing your childish activity for a moment you then looked at one another questioningly, wondering who the hell is that?

"Where you expecting anyone?" you asked Randall as he made his way towards the buzzer to see who it was.

"Nope. The movers aren't supposed to be here for at least another hour and a half."

Listening in closely and curiously as he then hit the reply button on the intercom and said, "Hello...?" (putting on a slightly more Miss. Card-esq tone again as he did), you were ver y much surprised to hear your very own mother's slightly distorted voice coming from the other end. "Hi, Laura, it's me...Jennifer, Jennifer Connors," she said, as the two of you looked at each other in disbelief, "I had the afternoon free so I thought I'd come see how you and Tim were doing, and maybe give you guys a hand..."

Looking at you for some sort of advice on what to do - but unfortunately getting none (you really having no clue either) - Randall rather awkwardly replied, "Oh...okay, Jen. That's....really good of you? Let me, uh, let me just buzz you in..."

"What the hell is she doing here?" you squeaked as soon as he'd let go of the button, having hoped not to have seen your mom till at least later this evening when you returned home.

Looking equally as frustrated by this sudden, unexpected appearance from your mother as you were, all he could do was shrug his shoulders and repeat what she'd already said. "Says she's coming to see how we're doing."

"Come to snoop on us more like! Make sure we aren't up to...well, whatever it was we were just up to," you groaned, indicating to the banana still clutched firmly in Randall's hand - the two of you seemingly being unable to get a moments peace without someone appearing to ruin things. "You should have just told her we're fine without her!"

Rolling his eyes at this suggestion, Randall replied, "Yeah, like that really would have worked."

Quickly getting your stories straight, obviously not wanting your mom to know about your drinking, gaming or sex (especially not the sex), Randall told you just to relax and play things cool, not wanting to give your mom any reason to be suspicious. After all, you were just a polite, thoughtful young man helping his teacher out with some packing and heavy lifting, it's wasn't as if anything untoward had happened...

"Shit, here she comes!" Randall announced as he spied her through the peephole, suddenly noticing that he still had the banana in his hand. Tossing it quickly in your direction, you grabbed it and stuck in back in the fruit bowl, just in time to see the door open and your mom walk in...