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fandomhigh2012-06-04 07:13 am
boobs-and-evil.livejournal.com) wrote in fandomhigh2012-06-04 07:13 am
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Diversity and You, Class #5, Period #2, June 4th
"I don't know much about wizards," Callie said, starting class from her seat perched upon her desk. "Because demons aren't allowed to know much about their stupid initiation ceremonies and whatever other rites they have. Wizards are, or can be, a powerful force for good, and demons are generally on the side of evil -- barring free will, of course -- so the two sides are usually in conflict. And the wizards like keeping up pointless secrecy around their dumbass rituals because they think that makes them mysterious and spooky and not --" Callie struggled to find a pejorative that was class-appropriate. "-- childish."
That was not even her fifth choice.
"Wizards are born into their areas of expertise, from how I understand it -- wizards of the air, wizards of copyright infringement, wizards of geeky video games and Mountain Dew or ... something. And then you have the incompetent drunken idiots born into the line of social workers. I'm not calling all social workers incompetent, or drunk, or idiots; I'm just saying that Leonard, the wizard who works in our department, is such a black hole of incompetency that he has nearly gotten himself fired on a number of occasions. And that's remembering that his direct superiors are serving the demonic agenda and don't actually care if he does anything. It almost takes skill to be that big of a fuck-up. Oh, no offense, Leonard."
By the way, seated at her desk was an old man. He was wearing a white shirt, a blue pointy hat with stars and moons on it, and a tie with print matched to the hat. His scraggy beard was white, and his skin was nearly as pale as his beard and shirt. He was chugging away at a bottle of whiskey like there might be a prize at the bottom of it.
"None taken," he said earnestly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
"Class, meet Leonard. He's 500 years old, give or take, and I think he has a fiance or two on ice in storage somewhere. Wizards don't reach adulthood until, like, 50, with some lame ritual that I think involves circumcision, so he's not that old, but he's still nearing retirement. I brought him in here to answer questions about ... whatever lame wizard crap goes on, either in the Wizards' Guild or their super-dumb Away site, Mount Magic. See, this is why we demons can't respect wizards. Both names sound like they were picked by a six-year-old girl having a tea party with unicorns."
"Say whatever you like, sweetheart, but at least we didn't sell out on the merchandising," Leonard said.
"Cashing in was a brilliant business move, and you know it," she countered. "We lost the security advantage, but then you'd never invade Hell. So are wizards really all male? I've heard stories about eggs."
Leonard shuddered visibly. "I need at least two more bottles before I tell you about my egg. I stipulated clearly in my rider that I'd only show up for a three-bottle minimum."
"Check the left drawer," Callie said. "I'd never stiff a guest on the booze."
"Is this Glenlivet?" Leonard asked, cracking open his next bottle. "Oh, you temptress."
"Okay, class. We have Leonard the failure at wizardry here today. Ask him anything you like. Ask him about his egg. Ask him about the fact that he respawns into little tiny Leonards if you don't get him into his urn in time. Ask him what's up with his dark past with Abraham Lincoln. Ask him about his hologram, Melchior. Ask him who my replacement is at the DOI, and how the joint is running without me."
"Tad," Leonard interjected. "He's an even bigger ass-kisser than I am, which puts my job in jeopardy. By the way, kid, Mark misses you. How long were you planning on waiting to ask about him?"
Callie did not look amused at that.
That was not even her fifth choice.
"Wizards are born into their areas of expertise, from how I understand it -- wizards of the air, wizards of copyright infringement, wizards of geeky video games and Mountain Dew or ... something. And then you have the incompetent drunken idiots born into the line of social workers. I'm not calling all social workers incompetent, or drunk, or idiots; I'm just saying that Leonard, the wizard who works in our department, is such a black hole of incompetency that he has nearly gotten himself fired on a number of occasions. And that's remembering that his direct superiors are serving the demonic agenda and don't actually care if he does anything. It almost takes skill to be that big of a fuck-up. Oh, no offense, Leonard."
By the way, seated at her desk was an old man. He was wearing a white shirt, a blue pointy hat with stars and moons on it, and a tie with print matched to the hat. His scraggy beard was white, and his skin was nearly as pale as his beard and shirt. He was chugging away at a bottle of whiskey like there might be a prize at the bottom of it.
"None taken," he said earnestly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
"Class, meet Leonard. He's 500 years old, give or take, and I think he has a fiance or two on ice in storage somewhere. Wizards don't reach adulthood until, like, 50, with some lame ritual that I think involves circumcision, so he's not that old, but he's still nearing retirement. I brought him in here to answer questions about ... whatever lame wizard crap goes on, either in the Wizards' Guild or their super-dumb Away site, Mount Magic. See, this is why we demons can't respect wizards. Both names sound like they were picked by a six-year-old girl having a tea party with unicorns."
"Say whatever you like, sweetheart, but at least we didn't sell out on the merchandising," Leonard said.
"Cashing in was a brilliant business move, and you know it," she countered. "We lost the security advantage, but then you'd never invade Hell. So are wizards really all male? I've heard stories about eggs."
Leonard shuddered visibly. "I need at least two more bottles before I tell you about my egg. I stipulated clearly in my rider that I'd only show up for a three-bottle minimum."
"Check the left drawer," Callie said. "I'd never stiff a guest on the booze."
"Is this Glenlivet?" Leonard asked, cracking open his next bottle. "Oh, you temptress."
"Okay, class. We have Leonard the failure at wizardry here today. Ask him anything you like. Ask him about his egg. Ask him about the fact that he respawns into little tiny Leonards if you don't get him into his urn in time. Ask him what's up with his dark past with Abraham Lincoln. Ask him about his hologram, Melchior. Ask him who my replacement is at the DOI, and how the joint is running without me."
"Tad," Leonard interjected. "He's an even bigger ass-kisser than I am, which puts my job in jeopardy. By the way, kid, Mark misses you. How long were you planning on waiting to ask about him?"
Callie did not look amused at that.