fandomhigh | Fandom High Graduation Ceremony, Class of 2008, Saturday Afternoon (Part I)

Entry tags:

!event: graduation

Fandom High Graduation Ceremony, Class of 2008, Saturday Afternoon (Part I)

The sun was shining over the front lawn of the school (except for the part of the bleachers covered by an awning, in case anyone with sun issues had shown up), and the temperature had thankfully turned out to be perfect for the occasion. There was a stage placed prominently on the lawn, set up with a podium and a number of heavy metal chairs for the administration and guests. In front of the stage were platforms with more of the metal chairs; they'd been painted blue and gold, and were sitting empty and waiting for the arrival of the class of 2008. There were bleachers on each side of the platforms, for students, family, friends, alumni, and residents of the town who wanted to come and watch.

Alas, it was time for another class to graduate.

[OOC: ~~If you ping in before the OCD is over, I will end you and all that you love. Ahem.~~ OCD is done, go and rock out! This post is for audience mingling and general graduation stuff. The requisite WTF-y part of graduation will be posted later. Like last year, it'll be kind of hard to miss the events of the second post, so you might want to hold off an any post-graduation posts for a while to avoid being Jossed.]

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Sitting at the end of one of the bleachers was a teenage boy, not so remarkable, really. It was his companion, the giant bluish centipede with numerous eyes on stalks who sat beside the bleachers placidly munching on a copy of Seventeen (interspersed with nibbles of the graduation program), who probably drew more attention.

Summer stared in horror. Not because there was a giant centipede in attendance. Mostly because he was eating a copy of Seventeen, omg.

Edited 2008-05-03 21:20 (UTC)

Sker'ret swiveled three or four of his eyestalks to look at her, then held the magazine out politely.

"Would you like a page? The fashion section's especially tasty."

Summer gasped. "You're eating Seventeen! Why would you do that?"

The fashion section? Oh the horror.

Sker'ret's entire body rippled in an approximation of a shrug. "Would you prefer I ate the bleachers instead?"

"Well, no," Summer replied. "But couldn't you, like, eat a Wall Street Journal or something?"

Several of Sker'ret's eyes widened in horror. "Ugh, no. Too dry!"

"I know, right?" Summer agreed. "Seventeen is much more colorful."

Sker'ret nodded enthusiastically. "Not as good for you as, say, The Nation, but sometimes a little junk food's just what you need." He pulled another page out of the magazine, shredded it with his mandibles, and used two forelegs to stuff the pieces into his facial orifice before holding the dilapidated issue out to her. "Are you sure you wouldn't like a page?"

"Uh...no thanks, you can keep it," Summer replied. "You enjoy that fashion section."

Edited 2008-05-03 21:50 (UTC)

"I am!" Sker'ret replied. "The advice columns are good, too, if a little spicier."

"Oh, I love the advice columns! And those quizzes are fun," Summer said. This guy wasn't so bad considering he was a giant centipede.

"Oh, yes, the quizzes, those are rather nutritious," Sker'ret agreed. "I hope Carmela has a few of these in her room for me later. I don't get too many of them at home, or at the Crossings."

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Diane had tried to be prepared for anything. She'd heard the stories Isabel told. Of gremlins. Of zombies. Of vampires. But giant insects?

She couldn't help herself.

She stared.

Sker'ret swiveled two eyestalks to look at her, then raised a foreleg in greeting. "Hello."

Nita and Dairine's father hadn't handled their first meeting with perfect aplomb, either; he was fine with that.

"Hello," she said weakly. He, she, it? spoke English. Of course.

"Pleased to meet you," Sker'ret said politely. "Are you a friend of Carmela's as well?"

It was generally polite not to point out to people that they'd been staring, after all.

It wasn't everyday you met a giant talking centipede. But just in case they were one of Isabel's friends, Diane tried to relax and gawk less. "No, my daughter Isabel is graduating."

"Oh, well, congratulations to your daughter!" Sker'ret, two eyestalks still focused on her as the others looked over the magazine critically, flipped through to a page about what to do if you think your boyfriend's cheating on you. Delicately, with a connoisseur's air, he ripped it out, shredded it with his mandibles, and began to munch away.

"Well," he said between bites, "that's an interesting flavor."

"Really?" she asked. "What does it taste like? Is that all you eat?"

"Oh, no," Sker'ret said cheerfully. "But I don't think people would take it too well if I started eating, say, the bleachers or the linoleum."

He held up what was left of the page. "As for this, it's surprisingly spicy. Not the same kind of spice as the advice columns, but definitely not as bland as, say, the index page."

"I can see where that would be a problem," Diane nodded. "My daughter loves spicy food as well. Ever since she was a little girl, she always wanted Tabasco sauce on her food."

"Now that's a thought," Sker'ret remarked. "I may have to try that sometime. Have I not introduced myself? My name is Sker'ret, of Rirhath B."

"She goes through bottles of it. Even today," she smiled. "I'm Diane Evans. Of Roswell. It's nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine," Sker'ret said magnanimously. "Roswell, is that a planet?"