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Detention, Saturday

"Hey," Mitchell called, once the ~~handwavey~~ detention announcement had gone out and everyone had had time to gather up by the Danger Shop. "I'm Mitchell. Some of you might've met me." He grinned. "You're here because for whatever reason, the school has chosen to recognise your trespasses. That doesn't mean it has to be horrible, just unpleasant."

Another slight grin, with only a hint of apology.

"So today, we're going to be preparing for a tea party," he continued, "Although I'd like it if you'd all go light on the tea. I'm more of a coffee person."

He shouldn't be allowed free range of children.

"Just enter through there and get your finest," he said, waving at the doorway, "And I'll see you on the other end."

~~Liir Thropp~~
~~Arthur Pendragon~~
~~Dinah Lance~~
~~Jack Priest~~
~~Effy Stonem~~
~~Kate Gregson~~
Francine Peters
~~Jonothon Starsmore~~
Azula

[[ ~~wait for the~~ ocd up ]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Gilbert looked up at him like Jono was a giant disturbance. "How many cows did you murder to get that?"

Disaffected wasn't even the word for it.

//Thirty,// Jono replied. And then he crossed his arms and decided that the best part of today would he the part where he annoyed the hell out of this bloke, right here. //And an ostrich, three crocodiles, and a naffin' elephant. What's it to yer, sunshine?//

"It's murder," Gilbert said, settling further into his couch like he really couldn't even be arsed to get up that morning. "It's disgusting, is what it is. We're human beings, we're supposed to rise above all that, but it never happens, does it?"

//No, mate, it doesn't.// Jonothon would be scowling if he could right now. A lot. //But that's the way of it. Yer wanna know what's more disgusting? Protests in the street against people who've got the bloody gall to be born the way they are. That's pretty disgusting. A whole chunk of society that figures they're somehow doing somebody a favour by spreading hate and prejudice the like of which causes people like me to either have to cover the soddin' hell up, or go into hiding entirely.//

Tirade time was now, apparently.

At least that got Gilbert to look up again?

"Times are rough, mate," he said, as sympathetically as things ever got. "Times are rough. Nietsche said that there's no single fable that could adequately illustrate how miserable, shadowy and transient, how aimless and arbitrary the human intellect looks within nature. Think about that. Persecution? The work of intellectual muppets, flailing about in the dark. Bourgeois shite."

//Sheep,// Jono added, giving his head a shake. //Bein' herded about by the media and by fear. Muppets don't seem to notice, so far as I've been able to tell.//

Jono was still trying to get his brain around the phrase, 'punk Frog Scout merit badge,' yes.

"And it just gets worse with the years," Gilbert continued. "Really now. Have you heard what kind of crap they put out on the radio?" Because music was related, you see. "God is well and truly dead."

//I've been introduced to what they figure passes as music nowadays,// Jono noted, with a bit of a woeful twinge as he mourned the death of MTV.

He was never going to get over it, no.

//It's like everybody stopped bloody caring, and then decided to play whatever they figured would get the screaming thirteen-year-olds to line up at their concerts, instead.//

"I miss the days where you could buy a record, and really hear the misery and the artistry," Gilbert sighed. It was a deep, deep sigh of woe. "What've we got these days? Michael Buble?"

//New Kids on the sodding Block,// Jono tossed in, mostly because he'd never heard of this Michal Buble guy. //It's a bloody crime, is what it is.//

"Totally unbelievable," Gilbert agreed. "Pigs and crap music, mate. That's all there is in this decade."

//I want the 90's back,// Jono ~~whined~~ decided, giving his head a shake. //At least it hadn't gone all to shite yet, then. And it had the added bonus of being fresh out of the 80s. It wasn't quite gone, yet.//

"Please. The 90s were the watered-down piss of the 80s," Gilbert grumbled. "I'll let you know, I'm glad I wasn't alive for that shite."

Jono was going to just kind of give this guy a look, now.

//It shows, mate.//

"Worst thing is the clubs," Gilbert continued, undaunted, "Playing early 90s music and passing it off like the best of the 80s. Who are they trying to kid?"

Relax, Jono. Deep, calming br- wait, no, nevermind.

Jonothon pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.

//Haven't been to many of those in this decade. Did enough clubbing back in the 90's, when we knew what music was what, mate.//

"The 90s are were all music went to die," Gilbert argued, in as much as you could take that low, slooow tone as anything approaching an argument. "All the good musicians actually had died by then. I met a couple."

//I'm sure yer did.// Jono was now pretty certain that about 300% of what came out of this guy's mouth was total bollocks, yes. //And which ones would those be, then?//

"I met Curtis," Gilbert said, after a very, very long period of deliberation, "Shortly after I died." Flick.

Wait, wot?

//Yer dead?// Jono, turn your brain back on. The staring in skeptical disbelief thing isn't a good look on you.

"Since 1985, dead and proud," Gilbert agreed. The skeptical disbelief happened, sometimes. Eh. "Five years before good music ended."

Right, then. Danger Shop. Crazy dead guy. This was not some sort of revelation, really. It wasn't like Jono hadn't heard about these things before.

//I suppose given that bit of information, it makes sense why yer so bloody cynical.//

"I'm cynical because the world is dead or dying," Gilbert said, with a shrug on his voice. "Personally, I'm fairly happy with my place in the world. Well, if Mitchell didn't think he was being funny by simulating me, anyway."

//I'm carrying on a conversation with a simulation of a dead man.// And yet, there he was, continuing the conversation. Gold star, Jonothon. //So, what, yer here because Mitchell in there thinks yer a good means of torturing the students? He base yer off somebody he knows?//

"Hell is other people," said Gilbert, who apparently felt that was both very profound and all he needed to say on the subject. "But someone had to liven up all the bourgeois crap around here."

Detention, Saturday

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