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fandomhigh2007-07-20 06:39 am
whatever-sucks.livejournal.com) wrote in fandomhigh2007-07-20 06:39 am
Entry tags:
Interdisciplinary Studies or whatever, Class 2, Friday, Period 3
Just to mix things up, Squall was waiting for his class... at the main campfire. Okay, so that's not mixing it up. Whatever.
The chalkboard had on it, in big letters:
As the students walked up, he handed each of them a small plastic first aid kit, with all the standards. Band-Aids, gauze, burn ointment, pain relievers, rubbing alcohol, etc., etc., etc. Even a needle and thread.
He looked them all over and then pointed at Ronan. "You. I forgot to put your name in for detention. Oops. I guess with the dinosuars it didn't matter." For whatever reason, he pronounced it 'di-nos-u-ars'. I wouldn't recommend pointing that out to him, though. "So, guess where you're going to be tomorrow?" He grinned and looked at everyone else. "Anyone else want on the list?"
He shrugged.
"So." He held up his own first aid kit and waved it at them. "This piece of crap is what passes for first aid in this place. So, since it's what you've got, it's what you're going to learn to use."
He spent the next 45 minutes lecturing about cuts and scrapes, burns, disinfectants, ointments, aspirin, how to tie a tourniquet and why you never ever should, 911 and poison control, and all the other important things to know. The chalkboard ended up covered in information. In fact, it all seemed pretty well-rehearsed.
And then he tossed his kit over his shoulder.
"Now," he said, pulling a bag out from behind the chalkboard. "This is what I call first aid." From the bag he pulled small stoppered flasks filled with a thick red liquid and tossed one to each student. "These are Hi-Potions," he said, as he was tossing them. His aim wasn't perfect, but it was decent -- it's your own fault if you don't manage to catch it. If you break the flask, you don't get another one.
The last one in the bag he set on the ground. He took his jacket off and then pulled a large chef's knife out of a drawer and waved it at them. "To demonstrate," he said, and then sliced his forearm open to the bone. A slight wince was his only concession to the pain he was in.
"This is the sort of thing that might happen if a monster you're fighting gets in a lucky shot," he said, as blood gushed and pooled on the ground. "The tiny bandages in those kits won't do jack for something like this."
In one fluid motion, he bent down, picked up his flask, unstoppered it with his thumb, and drank it. Immediately, the wound closed up. He wiped the blood off his arm with a damp cloth to show them that the cut was completely healed.
"Any questions?"
The chalkboard had on it, in big letters:
DETENTION:
Ronan Nolan
As the students walked up, he handed each of them a small plastic first aid kit, with all the standards. Band-Aids, gauze, burn ointment, pain relievers, rubbing alcohol, etc., etc., etc. Even a needle and thread.
He looked them all over and then pointed at Ronan. "You. I forgot to put your name in for detention. Oops. I guess with the dinosuars it didn't matter." For whatever reason, he pronounced it 'di-nos-u-ars'. I wouldn't recommend pointing that out to him, though. "So, guess where you're going to be tomorrow?" He grinned and looked at everyone else. "Anyone else want on the list?"
He shrugged.
"So." He held up his own first aid kit and waved it at them. "This piece of crap is what passes for first aid in this place. So, since it's what you've got, it's what you're going to learn to use."
He spent the next 45 minutes lecturing about cuts and scrapes, burns, disinfectants, ointments, aspirin, how to tie a tourniquet and why you never ever should, 911 and poison control, and all the other important things to know. The chalkboard ended up covered in information. In fact, it all seemed pretty well-rehearsed.
And then he tossed his kit over his shoulder.
"Now," he said, pulling a bag out from behind the chalkboard. "This is what I call first aid." From the bag he pulled small stoppered flasks filled with a thick red liquid and tossed one to each student. "These are Hi-Potions," he said, as he was tossing them. His aim wasn't perfect, but it was decent -- it's your own fault if you don't manage to catch it. If you break the flask, you don't get another one.
The last one in the bag he set on the ground. He took his jacket off and then pulled a large chef's knife out of a drawer and waved it at them. "To demonstrate," he said, and then sliced his forearm open to the bone. A slight wince was his only concession to the pain he was in.
"This is the sort of thing that might happen if a monster you're fighting gets in a lucky shot," he said, as blood gushed and pooled on the ground. "The tiny bandages in those kits won't do jack for something like this."
In one fluid motion, he bent down, picked up his flask, unstoppered it with his thumb, and drank it. Immediately, the wound closed up. He wiped the blood off his arm with a damp cloth to show them that the cut was completely healed.
"Any questions?"