Journalism Class - Friday, September 9

[jerusalem-s.livejournal.com]

Professor Jerusalem has his head down on the desk, resting on his folded arms. He's shown up in what appear to be a pair of black pajama pants and his tattoos and nothing else. There's an ice pack balanced somewhat precariously on his head and a huge mug of something that's gently steaming beside his elbow.

His cat is perched at one end of the desk with two cigarettes and an ashtray, looking smug.

The newscreen behind him has a large message scrawled across it in what looks like spray paint.

Attention! Your professor has a hang-over.

In the interests of everyone surviving till the end of class, you are to enter, quietly, stop by the desk, identify yourself, and tell him one thing about yourself that will hopefully be interesting enough to register. Then take a seat and you may talk quietly amongst yourselves till he recovers enough to be coherent.

A few class notes:

Class trip to Long Pig!

Discussion of what you think really goes on around here.

Find Channon and ask where the FUCK she got that sake she sent as a going away present.

1. The classroom is always open, although if you want the feeds on you'll have to ask me, the Assistant or the Principal to turn 'em on. Anyone who wants to use it for club meetings, assignations, wild parties...? Fine. Just clean up after yourself.

2. Anyone who hasn't turned in a set of permission slips needs to do so now.

3. The yearbook and the newspaper club heads need to keep the Assistant informed of meetings so that I can at least pretend to be interested... and possibly pay for the pizza or whatever. I'm supposed to be 'involved'. Help me out, here.

4. I don't care if you belong to the gun club or not. Anyone I catch with a weapon in my class that I or the Principal didn't distribute ourselves gets an automatic detention. I intend to have a long talk with Abe no Seimei, Gandalf and Prof Hellboy about what, exactly, to look for in some of you. Pull a weapon in my classroom and it may well be the last thing you ever do.

5. God, I hate it here. Have a nice day.

Comments

[last-worde.livejournal.com]

William usually enters quietly in any case, which is just as well for him. He eyes Spider's cat warily and approaches the other side of the desk. "It's William de Worde, sir. I'm from the flat world that travels on the back of a giant tortise."

That done, he retreats to a desk and wonders if he should actually talk to someone or figure out what to do for the newspaper meeting tonight. At least they can have it here.

[jerusalem-s.livejournal.com]

Still working on the Advil, Spider nodded to him and then winced at the movement.

[courier-gavin.livejournal.com]

Jake shifted a couple of seats down to talk to the newspaper-boss-man. "Hey." He pulled a tiny notebook out of his jacket pocket and waved it infront of Willam. The top of the page read List of Injured with two, ah, names written down: Jayne Whatever and Tentacled Thing From The Basement. "Look, I got started on the list-thing."

[last-worde.livejournal.com]

"Hullo," William said absently, focusing on the list. "Good," he said approvingly, and then, more thoughtfully-- "Do you think the tentacled thing used to be anybody? I don't know whether random monsters should go on the list or be counted as hazards."

[courier-gavin.livejournal.com]

"Well, one's dead and the other's living in his -" Thumb jab towards the professor who was talking to his cat, his desk or possibly a new student. It was hard to say from a distance. "-Shower or something. Can't be that much of a hazard now, right?"

[last-worde.livejournal.com]

"You never know. Anyway, if we had a hazard list it would have to include half the students." William eyed Spider. "And all the professors."