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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Priestly aimed a banana cream pie at her.

Jen was still testing out the ballistics of this whole serving-spoon-catapult thing, and got the pie full-on in the face while she was trying to aim.

There probably wasn't much of that spoonful of sloppy joe heading Priestly's way now.

Ah, but Priestly was nicely distracted by crowing in victory, so whatever sloppy joe was heading his way, definitely managed to catch him unawares.

That . . . really only made him crow more. He loved food fights.

Any objection Jen might have had to getting a pie in the face was quickly nullified by the fact that it was good pie.

She scooped up a large spoonful of chocolate pudding and, instead of trying to catapult it, just flung the entire spoonful overhand at him, hard.

And that was chocolate pudding coating the entire side of Priestly's face. He let out a loud war "whoop!" and started flicking overcooked carrots in her direction.

"Oh, gross, those have no nutritional value left in them!" Jen half-protested, laughing and trying to dodge.

She kind of felt like there should be large explosions of food behind her as she dodged . . . with less success than if she'd been in, say, a rock quarry or something, because now streaks of runny orange were all over her jumpsuit.

She flung a piece of pita bread at him like a frisbee.

"Not the pita!" Priestly ducked. Pita was far easier to duck than, say, handfuls of mashed potatoes thrown like snow balls. Which would be what he was aiming at her.

And getting a fair amount of mashed potato on himself while he was at it.

Sadly, the mashed potatoes blended in with Jen's uniform more, but rest assured there were liberal splatters of them everywhere.

"Pita!" Jen yelled back as she flung two more his way.

Whether it was a response to his comment or just because Jen occasionally felt obligated to yell out the names of things she was attacking with . . . that was kind of a tossup.

[Ha!]

Double attack! Priestly dodged one, but the other smacked him in the chest.

He . . . well, to be honest, he barely felt it. So he kept up the mashed-potato ball attack.

[[*g* Have to.]]

See, the thing was, Jen thought she was being clever by turning her ~~spy Oakleys~~ visual scanners on to protect her eyes from further mashed-potato attacks. She was forced to reconsider that pretty quickly, when she got a mashed-potato-ball in the face; that, combined with the banana cream pie filling still dripping down from her hair, completely coated the lenses.

She got another mashed-potato-ball in the solar plexus and let out a startled yelp all out of proportion with the actual impact of the hit.

And then slipped on some pudding.

There might have been a lot of exaggerated arm-flailing as she went down.

Priestly was now torn between pointing and laughing and running over to see if she was okay. He settled for staying on his side of the war and calling out a slightly amused "You alright?"

Jen was laughing, too, as she slipped and flailed some more and finally got back to her feet. "Believe me, I've had way worse falls. Much less . . . filling ones."

"Well in that case. . . ." Priestly grabbed a bowl to bombard her with a rain of peas.

"Oh, yuck," Jen protested -- and found the Frosted Mini-Wheats to fling at him by the handful.

Priestly attempted to deflect the attack by catching them in his mouth.

And as such, took several to the nose, cheeks, and thankfully-shut eyes.

Jen kind of wished she had a videocamera to record this. "Could you at least throw something I'd want to eat this time, maybe?"

Priestly shrugged. "Sure. Another pie?"

"Oooh, is there a lemon meringue?" Jen asked hopefully.

"There's meringue. Not sure what kind, though."

"I'll take it," Jen decided. "Hit me."

For the moment, she was disregarding the "fight" part of "food fight" in favor of the whole overarching food appreciation theme of the class.

Priestly was down with that. He grabbed the pie in question and lobbed it at her. "Can I get some more of those mini-wheats?"

"You got it." Jen maneuvered to get the pie in the face -- yum -- and lobbed a few more grainy sugary cereal projectiles at him, mostly softballs but with one or two zingers. Just for appearance's sake.

Priestly cheerfully returned to trying to catch the cereal in his mouth.

Mmmmmm, sugar.

Jen, meanwhile, was trying to catch the pie filling dripping out of her hair on her tongue, with minimal success, but this, after all, was what free hands were for. Mmmmm, meringue pie.

Their part in the food fight seemed to be devolving in a cease-fire.

Well, part of chaos was unpredictability, right? Right.

Re: FIGHT!

time-flyer-5.livejournal.com - 2009-03-17 17:43 (UTC) - Expand