fandomhigh | How to Be a Complete Bitch Without Really Trying, Workshop 7, Period 2 (Monday, August 18)

Class! Class, this week was very exciting! Were they excited, children? They should be! Today was a very special day! Today was their final! Wasn't that right, Jean-Paul?

"Indeed, Mademoiselle Bell," Jean-Paul agreed. "Today is your final." They should be very excited indeed! They were almost done with Jean-Paul and Tink! "And we have a very special final in store for you. It should be an excellent test of whether you have truly learned the way of the bitch, is that not right, Mademoiselle Bell?"

It should! It also contained random humiliation, which, in Tink's mind, was just as important for a final. Because teachers should get to laugh at their students a lot. Why else would one teach? It certainly wasn't for the money. Did the children have any idea what they got paid, here? Here was a hint: not much.

"It is true, we do not. Do not go into education, children. The pay is horrible and you have to deal with, well, you. When you are thirty looking back at yourselves as teenagers, you will agree with me." Was Jean-Paul being bitchy? Yes. He also believed he was one hundred percent right. "Now, your final will be simple. Complete the tasks assigned to you in the proper fashion, and you are done."

Of course, that was only simple for people with full, functioning brains, so Tink wasn't too convinced that all of their students could pull it off, but at least the failures would be entertaining. Tink had a martini and would be keeping score and videotaping anything that looked particularly useful for blackmail purposes. Had Jean-Paul noticed how rich this island was, for blackmail possibilities?

"I have!" Jean-Paul said happily. "Truly, it is a wonderful place. Unless you are the one being blackmailed." They would not speak of the weekend everyone was a pony. Ever. "But remember, children, after the blackmail possibilities, you are done!" That meant they never had to see JP and Tink again! Unless they needed clothes. Or got stuck in one of his classes. But other than that!

And that was a very, very good thing indeed. Now shoo! Off with you! Time to final!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

You ordered medium, and this steak is medium rare. You clearly said no ice, and these dimwits brought you ice. Mod your food-related mishap (with bonus points for how nitpicky and stupid the problem is), summon the waitstaff, and abuse the crap out of them. How can they ever make this up to you!?

"Why are there only two wonton in this soup?" Warren grunted and glowered down at his bowl. There was something terribly wrong with wonton soup when it looked like this. "I order wonton soup, I expect there to actually be something in it."

The glower was now redirected to anyone close enough to catch it. The bowl in his hands was bubbling at a boil.

Warren was putting his best effort forth to be bitchy, here.

"The soup is dark and black, like my soul," said the goth guy.

Because Warren cared about that, a lot.

"No, it's kind of yellowish. Like the piss you made it out of."

Because Warren figured it was a good idea to clear that up right away.

"I didn't piss in your soup," the goth guy said. "And I have no soul. I'm a vampire."

The goth guy was so getting fired as soon as they could find someone to replace him with.

"If you don't have a soul, it can't be dark and black," Warren grunted, looking into the bowl of- well. It had been wonton soup. Now it was resembling fried wonton. "Take this back and get me some decent soup before I tie you up outside and let you get a sunburn on that pasty skin. How do you get here from your mom's basement without burning, anyhow?"

"I have an umbrella," the goth guy sighed. "I suppose I can get you some new soup."

Because he was bored, and doing Warren a favor. Not because they paid him to serve customers. Customers were annoying.

"You... suppose." Warren's eyebrows furrowed. His hands were now covered in licks of flame. "You want to clear that up a little. If you suppose you can help me? Or if it's gonna be, 'yes, sir, I'll get you some real soup before you char me to a smoldering crisp?'"

The goth guy eyerolled. Phenomenally. "Sunlight won't actually kill me," he announced, picking up Warren's bowl of soup and heading for the kitchen. "I'm more powerful than that."

Within two minutes he returned with a completely, very different bowl of soup. You could tell it was a different bowl of soup because he had just walked to the kitchen and back and wouldn't just try bringing the same bowl back or anything. It just might, suspiciously, look somewhat similar to the previous bowl of soup. And be two minutes colder.

"You have got. To. Be. Kidding me." Warren was now standing up. Standing up and trying not to light himself entirely ablaze and attempting to refrain from wrapping his hands around this guy's neck and strangling.

Instead, he was going to take the bowl. And he was going to start toward the kitchen, himself. Fine. The ugly kid with the bad make-up didn't want to help him, he'd take it to the cooks.

While swearing.

In Chinese.

Oh, this he could do.

He raised an arm, snapped his fingers, and glared with hard green eyes at all and sundry.

Edited 2008-08-18 20:09 (UTC)

That earned him a Look. The bored waitress was going to give him a Look, finish organizing the silverware at her station, and then see what the guy's problem was. Taking her own sweet time with it. People who snapped their fingers at her always got that reaction.

"Yeah?" she said.

He looked as if he might sneer the food right off of the table.

"Do you honestly expect me to eat this? Have you looked at what's on this plate? Honestly. It's disgusting. I've cooked a better meal at the age of seven. I wouldn't give this to my cat."

"Okay?" the waitress said. She shifted her weight to the other side and gave him a blank look. "So ... you want it taken back, or what?"

"I want your license revoked. I want to call the health inspector. I want to take the chef out of your kitchen, smack him across the face, shove his nose into this like a spoiled puppy, and point out every loathsome detail on this plate.

"I asked for this steak rare and I got it blue. Do you see this? I mean, honestly, how could you make a mistake like that? It might as well start hoofing it off the table! The gravy is positively gritty, the seasonings are mixed entirely wrong to compliment the meat, the potatoes have been over cooked" and he pointed "can you see this center piece here that's still too hard to be served? The broccoli is wilted and tasteless only you can't see it because it's been bathed in dull, tasteless, probably over due cheese that hasn't even melted completely in some spots and seems practically fried on others! Even the parsley is a pathetic example of greenery. Look at this, look at this!

"This whole plate shouldn't be swept off the table. It should be swept off the planet in order to save the human race."

Edited 2008-08-18 20:55 (UTC)

The bored waitress stared at Liir while he finished his diatribe.

And then she swept the plate off the table, letting it crash onto the carpet and staring at it while it bounced.

"Is humanity safe now?" she asked.

He snorted.

"Not until you've been fired for that kind of service. And, or, after this place goes under. You really should be careful who you treat in such a way. Critics come in all shapes and sizes. They won't even have to fire you.

"With the way that meat was aged improperly, this place will be closed for health violations."

He even gave her a smile.

The waitress leaned over and dropped her voice, as if she was sharing a very big secret with Liir.

"I didn't cook that steak," she said. "Just in case you think maybe I run back there and work the grill inbetween filling drinks. And I make less than minimum wage, here, so really. Do your worst."

How to Be a Complete Bitch Without Really Trying, Workshop 7, Period 2 (Monday, August 18)

R1: Scenario One: This Food Is Gross!

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Re: R1: Scenario One: This Food Is Gross!

Re: R1: Scenario One: This Food Is Gross!

Re: R1: Scenario One: This Food Is Gross!

Re: R1: Scenario One: This Food Is Gross!

Re: R1: Scenario One: This Food Is Gross!