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fandomhigh2014-07-25 11:26 am
notmysupervisor.livejournal.com) wrote in fandomhigh2014-07-25 11:26 am
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The Seven Habits of Something Something Rawwwwwwwwwwr!!!! [Friday]
"Think win-win." Cheryl looked out over the class, arms crossed. "Well, guess what, you all apparently thought lose-lose because seriously, we literally told you not to come back this week, and gave you a pass not to. What the actual, flaming fuck is wrong with all of you?"
She threw her hands up with a despairing yell, clearly aggravated. Possibly because someone had tampered with her mood stabilizers, and now they didn't...exactly do what they were supposed to.
Whoops.
“You are all officially the slow class,” Pam said. “How do you fuck up something like not showing up? You’re all high school students, in summer school, which is highly illegal and not very nice at all. And it has to be obvious to you by now that we don’t give a shit, so why should you?!”
Guess whose pot tasted like weird, gross chemicals? Go on, guess.
Nothing made Pam crankier than ruined pot.
“So we’re gonna think win-win, which means everyone gets a Participation trophy because why bother even having competitions if one of the fucking special snowflakes might get his feelings hurt,” Pam huffed. “It’s a bunch of Montessori let’s-all-hold-hands touchy-feely garbage. Life isn't win-win. Life is I win, you starve to death behind a dumpster and I steal anything good left on your body.”
Ruined. Pot.
Cheryl, meanwhile, was clearly tottering towards the edge of some kind of actual breakdown, as she contributed, "Perfect fucking attendance isn't a motherfucking award! The word 'award'? Means that you are awarded something for fucking doing something. Putting your ass in the same seat every day for a year doesn't mean you should get an award, it means you should get a life."
With a noise that was somewhere between a sob and a growl, Cheryl added, "None of you is getting a perfect attendance award. None of you. Not even if you come every single day. Not even if you come all summer."
She took a deep breath, shaking her hair out (it was coming out of her bun, now), and turned to Pam, seemingly calmer. "Where's your lighter?"
RED ALERT, GUYS, RED ALERT.
“No lighters!” Pam shouted, slamming a hand on the desk. "We’re not getting fired from this shitty teaching gig, too! Stop fucking burning things down already! All my nice clothes smell like the goo that comes out of fire extinguishers and I RAWWWWWWWWWWWWRGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Hey, guys? There was now a velociraptor with a blonde bun standing in front of the class. So … that was happening.
"I feel better," said the velociraptor with the auburn bun in response, holding her arms out in front of her thoughtfully. "And here I thought I was going to have to self-medicate all night with the three V's again!"
(That's vicodin, valium and vodka, for those of you playing at home.)
Unfortunately, what came out when Cheryl the velociraptor spoke was much more along the lines of, "GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGHGGGHHHHHRRRHHHH!"
So, you know, that was a thing.
She threw her hands up with a despairing yell, clearly aggravated. Possibly because someone had tampered with her mood stabilizers, and now they didn't...exactly do what they were supposed to.
Whoops.
“You are all officially the slow class,” Pam said. “How do you fuck up something like not showing up? You’re all high school students, in summer school, which is highly illegal and not very nice at all. And it has to be obvious to you by now that we don’t give a shit, so why should you?!”
Guess whose pot tasted like weird, gross chemicals? Go on, guess.
Nothing made Pam crankier than ruined pot.
“So we’re gonna think win-win, which means everyone gets a Participation trophy because why bother even having competitions if one of the fucking special snowflakes might get his feelings hurt,” Pam huffed. “It’s a bunch of Montessori let’s-all-hold-hands touchy-feely garbage. Life isn't win-win. Life is I win, you starve to death behind a dumpster and I steal anything good left on your body.”
Ruined. Pot.
Cheryl, meanwhile, was clearly tottering towards the edge of some kind of actual breakdown, as she contributed, "Perfect fucking attendance isn't a motherfucking award! The word 'award'? Means that you are awarded something for fucking doing something. Putting your ass in the same seat every day for a year doesn't mean you should get an award, it means you should get a life."
With a noise that was somewhere between a sob and a growl, Cheryl added, "None of you is getting a perfect attendance award. None of you. Not even if you come every single day. Not even if you come all summer."
She took a deep breath, shaking her hair out (it was coming out of her bun, now), and turned to Pam, seemingly calmer. "Where's your lighter?"
RED ALERT, GUYS, RED ALERT.
“No lighters!” Pam shouted, slamming a hand on the desk. "We’re not getting fired from this shitty teaching gig, too! Stop fucking burning things down already! All my nice clothes smell like the goo that comes out of fire extinguishers and I RAWWWWWWWWWWWWRGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Hey, guys? There was now a velociraptor with a blonde bun standing in front of the class. So … that was happening.
![velociraptor with a blonde bun](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v328/Rellyjean/pam/pamdino.png"){kind=link}
"I feel better," said the velociraptor with the auburn bun in response, holding her arms out in front of her thoughtfully. "And here I thought I was going to have to self-medicate all night with the three V's again!"
(That's vicodin, valium and vodka, for those of you playing at home.)
Unfortunately, what came out when Cheryl the velociraptor spoke was much more along the lines of, "GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGHGGGHHHHHRRRHHHH!"
So, you know, that was a thing.