fandomhigh | Food Appreciation, Period 3, Class #10

The students had been told to meet up in the Danger Shop for today's class. Hopefully everybody had worn their old clothes because today was gonna get messy. The Danger Shop had been made to look like a cafeteria with plenty of places to dodge, dip, duck, dive and...dodge. There were two long tables on each side of the room with plenty of ammo for a good food fight: Jello, mashed potatoes, soggy cafeteria vegetables, pies, pudding, cake, sloppy joes...all sorts of stuff.

They were totally having a food fight today.

Marshall wasn't alone at the front of the class today. No, there was also a very pissy looking Chuck Bass standing beside him. Marshall had his hand on Chuck's shoulder like he was afraid the kid was gonna run away or something. And, dear god, someone grab a camera because Chuck was wearing flannel and jeans.

"Glad you guys could make it! We are here today because I figured we could switch things up a bit. Food can be appreciated in so many ways. Taste, sight, smell...it's ability to be thrown at long distances," Marshall grinned widely. "That's right, today we're having a food fight. Hope you wore old clothes."

Chuck glared up at Marshall. Everything about today sucked.

"We have an odd number in the class and a friend told me that Mr. Bass would absolutely love to join in on the fun," Marshall said, leaning his arm on Chuck's shoulder. Short people were useful like that.

"Ms. Scherbatsky put you up to this, didn't she?" Chuck asked.

"Ah, I'm not going to reveal my source of just who suggested you for the job," he said. "...but, yeah, it was Robin. Look, I let you pick the teams. That was nice of me, right?"

Chuck rolled his eyes.

Marshall frowned. He didn't like it when people didn't like him. "Anyway. Mr. Bass has divided you all into teams and everybody will have to wear a jersey in the color of the team that has been chosen for you. I always think it's more fun that way."

"Oh, and as a warning? If this turns into a real fight between any of you it's gonna be detention or a visit to the principals office or something. Something bad. Not only that, I'll sadface at you," Marshall said. He pouted and pointed at his face. "Nobody wants that."

Marshall clapped a hand on Chuck's shoulder and pushed him towards the rest of the class. "Okay, everybody get their jerseys on and get to opposite sides of the cafeteria. Congregate with your team, make a game plan if you want to. When I blow the whistle, unleash hell! And by hell I mean food!"

Blue Team

Chuck Bass
Sam Winchester
Kaylee Frye
Alex Russo
Priestly
Amber Atkins
Francine Peters
Hoshi Sato
Molly Carpenter
Peyton Sawyer
Summer Roberts
Eve Levine

Yellow Team

Dean Winchester
Blysse Norwood
Andros
Cindy Mackenzie
Claudia Kishi
Harry Dredsen
Hurley Reyes
Jen Scotts
Ned
Marco Conrad
Momoko Akatsutsumi
Viki

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Despite not really minding getting messy - lord knows it happened enough in the kitchen when she was cooking - Francine was still too ... Francine to actually come out swinging. Instead, she had two hands full of Jello, and held them at the ready, in what she thought was a good defensive stance.

It wasn't.

We probably didn't need to tell you that.

There was absolutely nothing personal about the spoonful of mashed potatoes that Jen sent Francine's way, honestly.

Really? Because the glare and the flying jello? Totally personal.

Okay, now it was personal, because Jello down the back of a jumpsuit made of that material was just gross, so Jen let loose with a barrage of bread.

Of course, the cringing of ew ew Jello slithering ew ew cold threw her aim off.

Francine - amazingly given her general lack of coordination - dodged most of the bread, and at least wasn't concussed by what did hit her. Though now she had crumbs in her hair.

"Is that the best you can do, drunky marriangenapper girl?" she called, diving for the nearest bowl of mashed potatoes.

Just as amazingly, Jen let the comment slide. You know, like the Jello. Which ew.

"Do you want to find out?"

The Jello grossness could only be countered by one thing.

Jen went for the tapioca pudding.

"Bring it!" She'd kind of always wanted to say that to somebody. Or, well, she'd kind of always wanted to spend five minutes as the kind of girl who says that to somebody. Ready? Aim? Fire potatoes, captain! Straight for the hair.

Jen didn't laugh. She kind of wanted to, but she didn't. Because honestly, Francine kind of reminded her of someone who could have been Bitterwoman's long-lost and mild-mannered and conveniently identical descendant or something. And why take that chance?

"Consider it brought," she said instead, scoop-flinging a healthy glob of tapioca pudding . . . right as her ponytail ended up potatoey.

Conveniently identical descendant? Please, what were the chances of that?

Brought it was, with a healthy glob of tapioca pudding slowly dripping off Francine's nose.

".....Eww," she said. Just that, no attempt at retaliation, even, because that deserved a full pause for Eww.

In the world of Bitterwoman the chances were probably pretty good. Don't ask why.

Jen snickered, and followed up with another tapioca salvo while she had the advantage.

"Ooooooh, you..." And then there was oatmeal.

Oooh, oatmeal. Fiber!

Yes, Jen was dork enough to try and make a side project of keeping track of what kind of nutritional value you could get out of a food fight.

But she was also curious to see how well spaghetti and meatballs would work as a kind of scattershot projectile, so flying Italian incoming!

And now there was a strand of spaghetti hanging off Francine's ear, and a miraculously caught meatball in one hand.

Of course, the other one was currently lodged in her cleavage.

Francine stared down at it. "And I say again, eww."

"Cool," Jen said, making furious mental notes. "It worked!"

She scooped a glob of oatmeal off her shoulder with one finger and popped it into her mouth. "Could you make sure to put some brown sugar in that next time?"

"Mmmm. And maple syrup!" Francine said automatically.

Too bad that one went right over Jen's head. "Cinnamon, maybe?"

"It'd probably make you sneeze if I threw it at you," Francine pointed out.

"Not if you mix it into the oatmeal first," Jen countered. Because food fights? Totally all about messy ways for people to feed each other. Really.

. . . this is what you get when someone's first food fight happens when they're technically around twenty-six, okay?

"Good point." Also what you get when you let someone who likes to feed other people into a food fight. "See, he went for glop factor, which is pretty high? But I think you have to figure in the taste too."

"I've decided --" Jen stopped to sputter a little on account of SURPRISE! Potatoes dripping from hair into mouth! (Eww, but still, yum.) "That taste is a key factor in any good food fight. If we'd been throwing brussels sprouts we'd all be done by now."

Food Appreciation, Period 3, Class #10

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