Residrool

We've all done it. Spit happens.

We fall asleep and there it is. A mouth slightly ajar (no pun intended) releases a little spillover of saliva for us to discover on the pillow, with some embarrassment. However, my most notorious episodes of residrool were in the classroom, not in bed.

"Comparative Anatomy is the study of..." I nod in and out a couple of times. "The cartilaginous fishes..." I throw my forearm across my desk to rest my forehead. "Ontogeny does not recapitulate phylogeny..." I close my eyes.

"Pharyngeal clefts proceed along..." For this nap, I'm all in.

Ah, respite from life, grades, tests, studying, even though I dream of walking across the quad to my finals in my underwear. I dream of cartilaginous fishes. Why can't ontogeny recapitulate phylogeny? Something's cartilaginously fishy around here!

Quite awake, hot Brittany is sitting next to me. I dream we meet, fall in love, celebrate affections with intimacy, and —

— I wake up. My eyes pop wide open, my head still on my forearm. I see the professor waiting patiently for my answer. I'm busted.

My head pops up, and there's that little spit trail down my cheek, pooling on the desk. I wipe it away instantly but self-consciously. Did Brittany see? Will I ever get to meet her?

"I'm waiting..." the professor says impatiently.

"Um," I stammer. "The notocord?" The professor is amazed. He nods.

"Go back to sleep," he says, and the class laughs. Brittany, too. Damn!