ROOMMATE: I don't know. Wouldn't there be a plaque or something? I was putting these things on the bunk bed, but I don't know why there are bunk beds in here if there are only two of us. It's great that we get our own rooms. I was worried that I'd have to share a bed room with somebody, and if we didn't get along that would be horrible.

Scary music...

Enter a small girl in jeans and a t-shirt lugging a huge suitcase and a backpack.

Other ROOMMATE: Is this room 40?

ROOMMATE and ROOMMATE 2: Yes.

Other ROOMMATE: Great, I've been lugging all this stuff from the airport and I'm exhausted.

ROOMATE: You're in here too?

Other ROOMMATE: Sure, didn't you get that letter over the summer? The one that came with all the study guides for the QRR?

ROOMMATE 2: What's that? Scary music...

Other ROOMMATE: What, the Science Center? It's a big building that looks like a Kodak camera.

ROOMMATE 2: I know that. What's the QRR?

Other ROOMMATE: It's the math test that you have to pass or else they publish those embarrassing photographs your parents always have of you as a baby--naked on the beach or in a tub.

No, only kidding. It's not that bad. They just put you on academic probation and make you take a year-long course to teach you how to read graphs and figure out percentages. But don't worry. It's really easy, you could probably study for it in three or four days. It's just a couple of standard deviation formulas, some basic calculus, quantum physics. It's about as difficult as putting together a futon.

THERE IS A KNOCK on the open door and two guys come in. They are wearing tan shorts and polo shirts--a variation of the fall wardrobe, tan pants and a polo shirt, which is a variation of the winter wardrobe, tan pants and a sweater.

GUY: Hi, we live downstairs. I'm Bill and this is this is my roommate George Washington.