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fandomhigh2014-03-14 10:03 am
notmysupervisor.livejournal.com) wrote in fandomhigh2014-03-14 10:03 am
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The Modern Workplace and You....ish [Friday, period 1]
Today when the students filed in, things may have seemed...well, a tad different from normal.
For one thing, Cheryl was back. For another, she was no longer Cheryl.
"Well, hoooow-dee," she drawled, eyes still narrowing disparagingly as she surveyed the group. That much was still the same. "What a sad, pathetic bunch of wannabe city slickers we've got here." She shook her head, sending her hair bouncing, as she placed her hands on her mostly-exposed hips. "You ever see anything so sad in your whole life, Pammy?"
Pam popped a Mentos made entirely of cocaine into her mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. “I dunno,” she said. “Some of ‘em might make useful heishi in the glorious empire of … uh … ISIS. I mean, spies. I’m sure some of ‘em have potential as spies.”
Pam was not in any way an undercover agent working for the Yakuza, everyone. In case you were wondering.
"Maybe," Cherlene said, waving a hand dismissively. "I mean, if you wanna waste your time, fine. But I wanna see if any of 'em are talented." She glanced out over the group thoughtfully. "I need me some backup singers, if you know what I mean."
She meant she needed backup singers. For once, this was actually literal, not figurative.
“I don’t get it,” Pam frowned. This was either because she expected it to be some kind of horrible innuendo, or because she was still a cocaine addict, even though she was now a cocaine addict who was also a Yakuza spy. “Oooh! Ooooh! Can we do an American Idol thing? You can be the mean British guy and I’ll be the dopey drunk chick who thinks everyone did their best. Except I wanna be mean, too.”
What was the fun in being nice when you could crush someone’s dreams!??
"I kinda wanna be drunk, too," Cherlene mused, frowning. "And I ain't gonna be British. But okay!" It was just coincidence that Cherlene had brought with her a microphone and karaoke machine, right? "If you knock my socks off," she added, "then you can be my backup singer."
Not that she was wearing socks.
“You can totally be drunk,” Pam said, holding out her thermos. “Tanoshinde kudasai.”
Of course she brought Green Russians to class. Of course she did.
[Cheryl is her season-five AU, country-western darling Cherlene. Pam is spying for the Yakuza and eating cocaine like she's paid to. SORRY THAT CLASS IS WHAT IT IS NOW. SO MUCH FOR THE MODERN WORKPLACE?]
For one thing, Cheryl was back. For another, she was no longer Cheryl.
"Well, hoooow-dee," she drawled, eyes still narrowing disparagingly as she surveyed the group. That much was still the same. "What a sad, pathetic bunch of wannabe city slickers we've got here." She shook her head, sending her hair bouncing, as she placed her hands on her mostly-exposed hips. "You ever see anything so sad in your whole life, Pammy?"
Pam popped a Mentos made entirely of cocaine into her mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. “I dunno,” she said. “Some of ‘em might make useful heishi in the glorious empire of … uh … ISIS. I mean, spies. I’m sure some of ‘em have potential as spies.”
Pam was not in any way an undercover agent working for the Yakuza, everyone. In case you were wondering.
"Maybe," Cherlene said, waving a hand dismissively. "I mean, if you wanna waste your time, fine. But I wanna see if any of 'em are talented." She glanced out over the group thoughtfully. "I need me some backup singers, if you know what I mean."
She meant she needed backup singers. For once, this was actually literal, not figurative.
“I don’t get it,” Pam frowned. This was either because she expected it to be some kind of horrible innuendo, or because she was still a cocaine addict, even though she was now a cocaine addict who was also a Yakuza spy. “Oooh! Ooooh! Can we do an American Idol thing? You can be the mean British guy and I’ll be the dopey drunk chick who thinks everyone did their best. Except I wanna be mean, too.”
What was the fun in being nice when you could crush someone’s dreams!??
"I kinda wanna be drunk, too," Cherlene mused, frowning. "And I ain't gonna be British. But okay!" It was just coincidence that Cherlene had brought with her a microphone and karaoke machine, right? "If you knock my socks off," she added, "then you can be my backup singer."
Not that she was wearing socks.
“You can totally be drunk,” Pam said, holding out her thermos. “Tanoshinde kudasai.”
Of course she brought Green Russians to class. Of course she did.
[Cheryl is her season-five AU, country-western darling Cherlene. Pam is spying for the Yakuza and eating cocaine like she's paid to. SORRY THAT CLASS IS WHAT IT IS NOW. SO MUCH FOR THE MODERN WORKPLACE?]
Re: Perform! [03/14]
Also, there was a dancing spacemonkey.
Re: Perform! [03/14]
"Back-up dancers are s'posed to be sexy," Pam announced. "Not weird little monkey things."
Re: Perform! [03/14]
Re: Perform! [03/14]
"Ooooooooooh," she said. "I think maybe some mescaline got into my coke."
Uh.
"I mean Mentos," she said, popping another one into her mouth.
Re: Perform! [03/14]
Re: Perform! [03/14]
Re: Perform! [03/14]
Re: Perform! [03/14]
"C'mon, we're not supposed to pick on the crippled kid," she sighed. "Don't call him a 'that.'"