This art room's got a problem

Wassup. Name's Himari. I'm a college girl. What, were you expecting more? Sheesh, it's specifics everywhere. Here, there, every damn paper I turn in, my mind runs on simple.

But if ya want the rundown, 153 cm, D cup, long black hair, really cute, oh, and I'm ace of the track team. As such, you'll often see me in shorts n' sneakers no matter the day time or season, cuz running's year-round.

In contrast, my roomie's the indoorsy-type, but she's not a gamer, she's an artist... Like painting nude model artist, or at least trying to... It's an industry I guess.

Anyway, I hear today she was gonna strip a guy and smother him in clay. Sounds kinky as fuck, but the guy in question is one I like, so any chance to see him in a state like that and watch him blush himself to death is worth it.

Making sure I was early, I approached the art room from the outside, climbing in through the window. I did track some mud in, but it's an art room, so nobody will mind if I decorate it with muddy shoeprints.

No one was there, but all the materials were lined up, with the robe Matsu was gonna wear folded over a chair.

Being the gremlin that I am, I naturally threw the robe over my somewhat sweaty self. Matsu can thank me later for the cool wash.

As I danced around, I stumbled upon a mannequin head. It had long ginger hair, but what was odd was that tape had been placed over it's eyes and mouth. Must be a cult thing or something.

And thus, I didn't leave it be and summoned an art demon to possess me, not really, all I did was throw some of the mushrooms lying about up in the air while doing a haphazard chant. And now in chuuni mode, I begin painting over the mannequin's head. I don't know how long it took, but when I was done, the head was now a masterpiece I dubbed, Amigo!

"Amigo!"

Hmm? Did I just hear something?

"AMIGO!"

Is someone pranking me?

"A-MI-GO!"

Smash!

"IYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

I had every right to scream. Before me stood some headless horseman with a sword in hand. The horse was black as night with red glowing eyes, but the horseman's armor was silver and had boobs... It's a headless horsewoman, ain't it?

The horsewoman turned towards me, but instead of swinging her sword, she began, scouring about on the floor as if she was searching for something.

"Mmmph ngh!"

Hmm? I thought I heard something again, but this time it was a woman's voice. Where could it be?

"MMMPH NGH!"

I turned towards the mannequin's head. It couldn't be, but it might be worth a shot.

I slowly pulled the tape off the mannequin's eyes and was greeted by a pair of realistic-looking bloodshot eyes. Realizing my theory was right, I ripped the tape off the mannequin, er, living mannequin's mouth, allowing her to speak.

"Bastard bréan, tá mé ag cuardach mo cheann le breis agus céad bliain [Foul bastard, I've been searching for my head for over a century]!"

Um, what did she just say?

"Sorry, I don't understand... Scottish?"

"Albanach!? Is mise Éireannach, tú fraochÚn bréan [Scottish!? I'm Irish you foul whore]!"

Alban-what? Albania?

"Sorry, I don't speak Albanian, but maybe my roommate does. She's from Bosnia," I nervously smiled.

"An Albáin? An Bhoisnia [Albania? Bosnia]?"

She looked a bit confused. Well confusion's good, because if she's busy thinking, she can't swing that sword at MEEEEEEEE!?

I quickly dove to the side as the horsewoman swung her sword, slicing the stand her head was on, sending her head tumbling down. Before it hit the ground, she caught it, then gracefully put it back atop her neck.

"Ahh, ah. Dealraíonn sé ceart go leor [Seems alright]. Now, the language, I know bits, but not sentences. Irish is my only fluent tongue, aside from some English," the woman stated.

Oh, it was Irish, not Scottish.

"Sorry, I don't speak Irish, but I speak English."

"Then tell me why ye kept me head here all these years!" the woman fumed as she pointed her sword at my neck.

"I'm just a student! I don't know anything!"

"Then why'd ye mess up me face!?"

"Uh, I thought you were a mannequin."

"A mannequin!? Me!? I'm a proud Dullahan! Pádraigín's my name!"

"I'm Himari."

All that did was agitate her more, but before anything else could happen, the door swung open and in swayed my roomie, Zlata.

"Himari, igrajući se sa mojom glavom [playing with my head]?" she smiled as she brushed aside her long blonde hair.

While she had an athletic build and was always wearing Adidas pants and sneakers, she preferred to stick to art, though I'm not sure if the stuff she produced could be called art or just shit slapped together on a canvas.

"And who's she?" Pádraigín asked.

"My roomie, Zlata from Bosnia."

"What's a Bosnia?"

"A country in the Balkans?"

"Balkans? It's been a century... I know not what's happened."

But before anything else could happen, Zlata suddenly charged forth with a shovel in hand and slammed it into Pádraigín's head, sending it flying out the window.

Pádraigín's body quickly gave chase, making another hole in the wall as it galloped after it.

"Wow, I thought it could take a hit," Zlata shrugged as she stared at the floor.

I took the chance to grab Zlata and attempt to flee, only for our path to be blocked by the art teacher.

"And why were you two messing around here?"

"There's a headless woman trying to kill us! We gotta run!"

"Headless? Are you high?"

"I don't do drugs."

"Then why are my shrooms strewn about? They're highly hallucinogenic."

Wait, what?

I slowly turned to notice the holes in the wall were gone while "Pádraigín's" head was on the ground in pieces as if it was really a head made of clay or something.

"Zlata, we'll have to cast your head again. As for you, you'll be punished accordingly," the teacher glared.

"But what about Matsu!?"

"We already clayed him up in the other room. Should've seen how red he went," Zlata grinned.

I was then ordered to take off my sweater and drape myself in a plastic bag before sitting down in the chair. Zlata then taped the bag around me, making me look stupid, but this was nothing compared to what was to come.

"Those shrooms cost a fortune, so I'm gonna make you pay for it with dignity," the art teacher scowled as she pulled up a pair of hair clippers.

And before I knew it, the bitch buzzed off all my hair and eyebrows before lathering me with shaving cream and making me smooth. That was only the start as next my head and face were smeared with Vaseline before being drenched in blue gloop. Worse, I had to sit there unable to see or speak for hours before I was finally free.

"And now we have a new head to use for modeling. Zlata, you're next," the art teacher glared.

Zlata nodded and sat down, but unlike me, ended up getting her hair wrapped in a swimcap instead of shaved off.

"Um, the difference in treatment!?" I fumed.

"You ruined my mushrooms, Zlata just smashed the bust of her own head, which you appeared to have drawn on. You can go now, but fuck with my shrooms or art room again and I'll wax your head and use you as a nude model for the rest of your enrollment."

"Yes ma'am."

And that's when I decided to major in politics so that I could become a lawmaker and ban magic mushrooms worldwide.

[End]