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fandomhigh2014-04-18 01:08 am
holyshitsnacks.livejournal.com) wrote in fandomhigh2014-04-18 01:08 am
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The Modern Workplace and You: Friday, Period 1
Class today was taking place in the Danger Shop. Not because of any ocelot-related shenanigans (sorry, Zeela) because really, your teachers didn’t care if you were mauled to death, anyway. But because they needed a jail environment and hadn’t thought to ask the sheriff ahead of time.
(They had considered just crashing the jail and asking the cops nicely to lock up the students, but wow, that sounded like way too much effort.)
So when you entered the Danger Shop, please enjoy the fact that you were behind bars. Each student was in his or her own individual cell; each cell was small, maybe eight by ten feet, with a thin cot and a steel toilet. The floors were a sickly shade of green and smelled strongly of disinfectant.
“Congratulations on getting busted by the cops!” Pam was as enthusiastic as ever. “You got taken in by the po-po. It’s 1-8-7 on an undercover cop, boyyyyyyyyyeeeeeeeee!”
Pam dropped a pose as if she was West Side. FYI, Pam didn’t even live on the Upper West Side. She lived in Queens.
"And you little shits better not mess this up because I am not going back!" Cheryl yelled, pointing around frantically.
Hey, guys, guess who forgot it's a simulation? You get three guesses, and two don't count.
"So you're gonna talk your way out of this. I don't care what stupid-ass thing you did, you have to talk your way out of it. If I had to talk my way out of multiple arson and stalking charges, I know you guys can come up with some bullshit for whatever lame crimes you committed," she continued.
Maybe it was better that she'd forgotten this wasn't real. Cheryl was, at least, a lot more animated than usual.
“Attica! Attica!” Pam shouted. “No justice, no peace! 911 is a joke, bitches! You show those pigs who’s boss!”
Please note that Pam’s advice was hugely, hugely unhelpful, and that protesting the po-po would probably result in you spending more time in jail, not less. It wasn’t like Pam was paying attention.
So, in conclusion, Cheryl turned to the simulated police officer that the students would be interacting with, and screamed an eloquent, "YOU'RE NOT MY SUPERVISOR!!!!!!" in his face, then turned neatly on one heel and headed off to do macrame in the corner.
Best of luck, kiddos.
(WAIT FOR THE OCD, KIDZ)
(They had considered just crashing the jail and asking the cops nicely to lock up the students, but wow, that sounded like way too much effort.)
So when you entered the Danger Shop, please enjoy the fact that you were behind bars. Each student was in his or her own individual cell; each cell was small, maybe eight by ten feet, with a thin cot and a steel toilet. The floors were a sickly shade of green and smelled strongly of disinfectant.
“Congratulations on getting busted by the cops!” Pam was as enthusiastic as ever. “You got taken in by the po-po. It’s 1-8-7 on an undercover cop, boyyyyyyyyyeeeeeeeee!”
Pam dropped a pose as if she was West Side. FYI, Pam didn’t even live on the Upper West Side. She lived in Queens.
"And you little shits better not mess this up because I am not going back!" Cheryl yelled, pointing around frantically.
Hey, guys, guess who forgot it's a simulation? You get three guesses, and two don't count.
"So you're gonna talk your way out of this. I don't care what stupid-ass thing you did, you have to talk your way out of it. If I had to talk my way out of multiple arson and stalking charges, I know you guys can come up with some bullshit for whatever lame crimes you committed," she continued.
Maybe it was better that she'd forgotten this wasn't real. Cheryl was, at least, a lot more animated than usual.
“Attica! Attica!” Pam shouted. “No justice, no peace! 911 is a joke, bitches! You show those pigs who’s boss!”
Please note that Pam’s advice was hugely, hugely unhelpful, and that protesting the po-po would probably result in you spending more time in jail, not less. It wasn’t like Pam was paying attention.
So, in conclusion, Cheryl turned to the simulated police officer that the students would be interacting with, and screamed an eloquent, "YOU'RE NOT MY SUPERVISOR!!!!!!" in his face, then turned neatly on one heel and headed off to do macrame in the corner.
Best of luck, kiddos.
(WAIT FOR THE OCD, KIDZ)
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