justonecondition (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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fandomhigh2013-12-16 06:42 am
justonecondition) wrote in fandomhigh2013-12-16 06:42 am
Entry tags:
Anger Management and Emotional Control | Monday | Period 1
Bruce had a large, stuffed backpack over his shoulders when he arrived for class today, where once again he had instructed his students to meet in the hallway just outside the Danger Shop. "Good morning," he said, awkwardly 'excuse me'-ing his way to the front of the group. "I hope you've all brought your tools that we talked about for today. It's my understanding that this past week was a little hectic and stressful for many of you, so I hope that no one's chosen to go it alone today."
He looked thoughtful for a minute, like he had something else to say but couldn't remember it, so after an awkward little beat, he unlocked the door and pushed it open.
The Shop was made to resemble the interior of a small, cramped commercial airplane, but not a very nice one: the seats were small and there was very little legroom; the overhead air conditioning was seriously on the fritz and the entire plane was intolerably cold; there were no blankets or pillows; the TVs weren't working; the only seats that remained unoccupied, totaling the exact number of Fandom students who had shown up for the final, were middle seats between talkative, unpleasant passengers; there was a shrieking infant (or possibly more than one) somewhere very close to everyone's seat; someone was playing metal music loudly enough for it to be heard through their headphones; the flight attendants were all sour and unhelpful; and the entire plane smelled of someone's rather pungent lunch that they had brought on board.
Bruce didn't feel that much more talk was necessary. He clapped his hands together once. "Find a seat, try to sit in it with your... hooves and everything, and try to get through the next hour," he said, a touch sympathetic. "Good luck."
He looked thoughtful for a minute, like he had something else to say but couldn't remember it, so after an awkward little beat, he unlocked the door and pushed it open.
The Shop was made to resemble the interior of a small, cramped commercial airplane, but not a very nice one: the seats were small and there was very little legroom; the overhead air conditioning was seriously on the fritz and the entire plane was intolerably cold; there were no blankets or pillows; the TVs weren't working; the only seats that remained unoccupied, totaling the exact number of Fandom students who had shown up for the final, were middle seats between talkative, unpleasant passengers; there was a shrieking infant (or possibly more than one) somewhere very close to everyone's seat; someone was playing metal music loudly enough for it to be heard through their headphones; the flight attendants were all sour and unhelpful; and the entire plane smelled of someone's rather pungent lunch that they had brought on board.
Bruce didn't feel that much more talk was necessary. He clapped his hands together once. "Find a seat, try to sit in it with your... hooves and everything, and try to get through the next hour," he said, a touch sympathetic. "Good luck."
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Get through the final
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Re: Get through the final
About half an hour into the exercise, Evan found himself closing his eyes, taking slow, deep breaths, and counting to a million. He didn't need to turn pages in order to do that.
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