Filler: Coatl

Hazumirein says,

Coatl: Chap. 1 (or a few paragraphs of it)

There's a pretty loud screech as I slide my car into the parking space. I could back in normally, sure, but it's infinitely more fun to spin it into place. There's no other cars around, so I can get away with it. I shove the door open and step out to take a look at my handiwork. I've got three out of four wheels in the lines--pretty good if you ask me. There's also a nice rounded skid mark leading up the car. I can't help but put on a satisfied grin as I grab the bag of Subway food out of the passenger seat, kick the door closed, and push my sunglasses up my nose to block out some of the Tucson rays. I almost forget to lock the car and spin on my heel to point the little remote thing--I always forget what those things are called--at it, dropping the bag of Subway in the process. "Aw man! Now the cookie's gonna be all broken. Oh well. I'll give it to Will."
I stroll across the dusty parking lot and push open the door to my dorm building, waving my student ID at the security on the way in. I take my sunglasses off as I head to my dorm; if I don't there's a good chance I'll walk into a door while my eyes adjust to the light. Actually there's a decent chance I'll walk into a door anyway--it's been known to happen. I guess I'm a tiny bit accident prone. Of course, it probably doesn't help that the only things I'm particularly careful with are my uber-expensive photography and sound equipment. I can't afford to replace that.
"Hey Will, think fast!" I call as I open my dorm room door, tossing a wrapped up Subway sandwich at my roommate, who is sitting at his computer doing some film-editing thing. I've never been big on the moving pictures deal (too complicated; give me still frames any day), but Will is. Which I guess is why I’m a photography student and he’s a film student.
Will turns and gasps just in time to be hit in the face by his lunch. I grin at his expression--one of fairly pure hatred, if I had to guess--as the sub falls off his face and into his lap.
"Dammit, Eztli, grow up," he says bitterly before picking up the sandwich, setting it on his desk, and turning back to the screen.
Yes, that's really my name. It's Nahuatl for "blood". I still have no idea what my parents were thinking. "Hey man, don't complain, I bought you lunch didn't I?" I defend as I plop down on his bed and begin unwrapping my own chicken teriyaki sub.
"You bought me lunch because you owed me one for driving all the way out to that party to pick you up last night because you were too drunk to even walk, and, of course, didn't have the money on you for a cab. This sandwich still doesn't cover my gas. Or the fact that I wound up sitting in the bathroom at 3 AM, holding your hair back while you puked up the night's festivities. You really need to get a girlfriend or something for that shit. Or at least a goddamn haircut. Also, don't you dare eat that on my bed."
I pause, mouth open, about to take a bite out of the sub. "Well there's no room on my bed.” True enough, my side of the room in general is essentially a pile of laundry, photography equipment, candy wrappers, a guitar, a sound board, stacks of CDs, and the occasional textbook. There's no room left for a human being.
"Then sit on the floor. Or better yet, clean," Will snaps. "Either way, get the hell off my bed; I don't want to be sleeping on pieces of chicken and bread crumbs."
I pretend I'm not twenty-two for a minute and stick my tongue out at him, then slide off of his bed and onto the dorm room carpet before proceeding to eat.