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fandomhigh2014-09-26 08:44 am
holyshitsnacks.livejournal.com) wrote in fandomhigh2014-09-26 08:44 am
Entry tags:
How To Totally Be a Spy, For Real (We Mean It), Friday
Class today had three teachers standing up in the front of the room. Astonishingly, this did not mean that class was going to be any more coherent, logical, or, well, sober than its usual drug-and-alcohol induced insanity. But at least one of the three teachers was a real honest-to-goodness motherfucking spy.
(That would be the one wearing the badass suit, in case you were wondering. But you weren’t.)
“We never said we were spies!” Pam insisted, in a huff. “Just ‘cause we’re not spies doesn’t mean we can’t teach a class on it! We’ve already covered important shit like shades of black and drinking.”
Had they covered shades of black? Most of this semester was really blackout-hazy for Pam, but it sounded familiar.
“Seriously. You guys are completely qualified for teaching a class on spies since, you know, you just sort of sit next to them and do nothing but get high off your asses,” the man in the suit said rolling his eyes. “Which by the way was sarcasm by the way. At least let me show them how to dress for an op.”
"Why're you even here?" Cheryl asked flatly from where she was slowly and angrily spinning -- you could spin angrily! -- in a desk chair. "Who invited you? We were doing great until you just decided to show up with your fucking koala bears."
It should be noted that Cheryl was also eating from a plastic baggie of gummy bears, so in addition to being super pissed that he was here, she was also tripping balls.
“We already did black, Agent Double-Oh-Bonehead,” Pam said, folding her arms. “Just ‘cause you made a long-distance booty call doesn’t give you the right to take over our class. We have a syllabus. There are important topics we need to be covering and you’re just fucking shit up like you always do!”
There totally wasn’t a syllabus. At all. Pam generally bitched at Cheryl until they thought of something, usually the night before while they were both high.
“You already did the tactical-neck?!” Archer shouted as he wandered over to the control panel and randomly started pressing buttons. “That was my creation! How could you-”
Archer’s thoughts were complete derailed when the classroom turned into a beach. “HOLY SHIT! THIS IS AWESOME!”
The scene then changed to a circus, a graveyard and then a moon setting. “This is just like the Y-People!”
Cheryl, for her part, stopped spinning and very, very slowly set her baggie on the desk before holding her hands out in front of her in a steadying sort of motion.
"...is there still gravity?" she asked.
She was still sitting in her chair. Nothing was floating. There was no reason to ask. But she wanted to be really, really sure, just now.
Other things were starting to come into focus, anyway. "Wait a second -- you're here to hit up Pam? Of all the women in fucking all the dimensions, you're here for Pam? Couldn't you just jerk off at home and save yourself the travel?"
“I’ll have you know that I’m better in the sack than you!” Pam announced, to a crowd of students who probably really, really didn’t want to know that. “He said I’m the best he’s ever had and that’s like at least a couple thousand women considering what a big old slut he is.”
This had a lot to do with spying, you guys. It was super important and educational.
“It’s true kids,” Archer said as he refilled his glass of scotch. “She’s like the Pele of Anal.”
How’s that for an image kids? Archer let that one sink in as he poked some more at the control panel which somehow ended up in a Norwegian sauna. “This is awesome. Can it make bombs? Shit! We should totally do bombs for a class! Kids love bombs!”
Cheryl, who was now in a full-blown LSD-influenced pout, offered, "Probably but they're not real bombs. I learned that the hard way when I made this place into a glue factory."
Such a disappointing afternoon, in so many different ways.
"What, are you gonna teach them how to defuse a bomb? Most of these kids can't find their ass from their elbow or their elbow from their other elbow."
...she said, right there in front of the class, as though they weren't there at all. So. Some things didn't change, no matter who was standing in front of the class.
So class was still in a Norwegian sauna -- complete with a couple of presumably Norwegian people, clad only in towels, lounging against the steps -- but now there was a large complicated-looking bomb sitting in the middle of the floor.
The partially-undressed Norwegians did not appear to be upset about the bomb, if that was any consolation.
“Okay, fine,” Pam said. “This week’s topic is defusing a bomb, and how real spies are alcoholic pricks who act real embarrassed to be seen out in public with you but have nooooo problem keeping it on the DL for like weeks.”
Said the woman who totally had gone for hitting that on the DL, and would be hitting that again tonight. What? She was offended but she wasn’t crazy, here.
“Okay kids. The first step to disarming a bomb is to call someone who’s really into hobbits,” Archer said after finishing his drink. “They know all about about that stuff. Or if you have a gay cripple he’d be good at it too.”
And that’s when he spotted Joker.
“There we go! You got one right there!”
"He's a robot," Cheryl hissed, looking worried. She didn't want to get terminated, okay. "Shhhhh! And -- goddammit. You don't know how to do this."
“Of course he doesn’t,” Pam sighed. “Real spies are arrogant dicks who can’t defuse bombs to save their own scrawny asses. So … get on up here and push some buttons and hope for the best, so we don’t end up with Nude Norwegian Tartare.”
(AWWW YEAH. Class today has special guest star![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sarcasm_duh who needs to app Archer, like, yesterday. Just FYI this one is even more offensive than usual, because seriously, of course it is.)
(That would be the one wearing the badass suit, in case you were wondering. But you weren’t.)
“We never said we were spies!” Pam insisted, in a huff. “Just ‘cause we’re not spies doesn’t mean we can’t teach a class on it! We’ve already covered important shit like shades of black and drinking.”
Had they covered shades of black? Most of this semester was really blackout-hazy for Pam, but it sounded familiar.
“Seriously. You guys are completely qualified for teaching a class on spies since, you know, you just sort of sit next to them and do nothing but get high off your asses,” the man in the suit said rolling his eyes. “Which by the way was sarcasm by the way. At least let me show them how to dress for an op.”
"Why're you even here?" Cheryl asked flatly from where she was slowly and angrily spinning -- you could spin angrily! -- in a desk chair. "Who invited you? We were doing great until you just decided to show up with your fucking koala bears."
It should be noted that Cheryl was also eating from a plastic baggie of gummy bears, so in addition to being super pissed that he was here, she was also tripping balls.
“We already did black, Agent Double-Oh-Bonehead,” Pam said, folding her arms. “Just ‘cause you made a long-distance booty call doesn’t give you the right to take over our class. We have a syllabus. There are important topics we need to be covering and you’re just fucking shit up like you always do!”
There totally wasn’t a syllabus. At all. Pam generally bitched at Cheryl until they thought of something, usually the night before while they were both high.
“You already did the tactical-neck?!” Archer shouted as he wandered over to the control panel and randomly started pressing buttons. “That was my creation! How could you-”
Archer’s thoughts were complete derailed when the classroom turned into a beach. “HOLY SHIT! THIS IS AWESOME!”
The scene then changed to a circus, a graveyard and then a moon setting. “This is just like the Y-People!”
Cheryl, for her part, stopped spinning and very, very slowly set her baggie on the desk before holding her hands out in front of her in a steadying sort of motion.
"...is there still gravity?" she asked.
She was still sitting in her chair. Nothing was floating. There was no reason to ask. But she wanted to be really, really sure, just now.
Other things were starting to come into focus, anyway. "Wait a second -- you're here to hit up Pam? Of all the women in fucking all the dimensions, you're here for Pam? Couldn't you just jerk off at home and save yourself the travel?"
“I’ll have you know that I’m better in the sack than you!” Pam announced, to a crowd of students who probably really, really didn’t want to know that. “He said I’m the best he’s ever had and that’s like at least a couple thousand women considering what a big old slut he is.”
This had a lot to do with spying, you guys. It was super important and educational.
“It’s true kids,” Archer said as he refilled his glass of scotch. “She’s like the Pele of Anal.”
How’s that for an image kids? Archer let that one sink in as he poked some more at the control panel which somehow ended up in a Norwegian sauna. “This is awesome. Can it make bombs? Shit! We should totally do bombs for a class! Kids love bombs!”
Cheryl, who was now in a full-blown LSD-influenced pout, offered, "Probably but they're not real bombs. I learned that the hard way when I made this place into a glue factory."
Such a disappointing afternoon, in so many different ways.
"What, are you gonna teach them how to defuse a bomb? Most of these kids can't find their ass from their elbow or their elbow from their other elbow."
...she said, right there in front of the class, as though they weren't there at all. So. Some things didn't change, no matter who was standing in front of the class.
So class was still in a Norwegian sauna -- complete with a couple of presumably Norwegian people, clad only in towels, lounging against the steps -- but now there was a large complicated-looking bomb sitting in the middle of the floor.
The partially-undressed Norwegians did not appear to be upset about the bomb, if that was any consolation.
“Okay, fine,” Pam said. “This week’s topic is defusing a bomb, and how real spies are alcoholic pricks who act real embarrassed to be seen out in public with you but have nooooo problem keeping it on the DL for like weeks.”
Said the woman who totally had gone for hitting that on the DL, and would be hitting that again tonight. What? She was offended but she wasn’t crazy, here.
“Okay kids. The first step to disarming a bomb is to call someone who’s really into hobbits,” Archer said after finishing his drink. “They know all about about that stuff. Or if you have a gay cripple he’d be good at it too.”
And that’s when he spotted Joker.
“There we go! You got one right there!”
"He's a robot," Cheryl hissed, looking worried. She didn't want to get terminated, okay. "Shhhhh! And -- goddammit. You don't know how to do this."
“Of course he doesn’t,” Pam sighed. “Real spies are arrogant dicks who can’t defuse bombs to save their own scrawny asses. So … get on up here and push some buttons and hope for the best, so we don’t end up with Nude Norwegian Tartare.”
(AWWW YEAH. Class today has special guest star
sarcasm_duh who needs to app Archer, like, yesterday. Just FYI this one is even more offensive than usual, because seriously, of course it is.)
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During the ... Bit Where Three People Discuss Their Sex Lives And the Danger Shop Controls
Re: During the ... Bit Where Three People Discuss Their Sex Lives And the Danger Shop Controls
She had no intention of going near the bombs. Who knew what the (ahem) teachers had programmed into them?
Sorry, fake naked Norwegian people.
Re: During the ... Bit Where Three People Discuss Their Sex Lives And the Danger Shop Controls
Re: During the ... Bit Where Three People Discuss Their Sex Lives And the Danger Shop Controls
"They're prosthetics," Alana lied, folding the wings back into her back protectively. "Really advanced prosthetics."
Re: During the ... Bit Where Three People Discuss Their Sex Lives And the Danger Shop Controls
Yep. Sterling Archer. A-hole. Sorry Alana.
Re: During the ... Bit Where Three People Discuss Their Sex Lives And the Danger Shop Controls
Seriously, she was happier if the creepy old guy talking about anal thought she was more or less invisible.
Re: During the ... Bit Where Three People Discuss Their Sex Lives And the Danger Shop Controls
Yes. The hologram.
Re: During the ... Bit Where Three People Discuss Their Sex Lives And the Danger Shop Controls
Re: During the ... Bit Where Three People Discuss Their Sex Lives And the Danger Shop Controls
Hey, if Krieger could do it, Archer should have no problem.
Re: During the ... Bit Where Three People Discuss Their Sex Lives And the Danger Shop Controls
Re: During the ... Bit Where Three People Discuss Their Sex Lives And the Danger Shop Controls
And then he'd started talking, and she was back to looking about as unimpressed as she did most weeks. The hotness did not outweigh the obvious crazy.
Re: During the ... Bit Where Three People Discuss Their Sex Lives And the Danger Shop Controls
"...Shit, did I say that out loud?"
Defuse a Bomb So That Half-Dressed Norwegian People Don't Die
Re: Defuse a Bomb So That Half-Dressed Norwegian People Don't Die
Re: Defuse a Bomb So That Half-Dressed Norwegian People Don't Die
Of course she was cheerful. She was totally banging Archer later.
Re: Defuse a Bomb So That Half-Dressed Norwegian People Don't Die
Even if he wouldn't die, he still didn't want to give these teachers fodder for laughing at him.
Re: Defuse a Bomb So That Half-Dressed Norwegian People Don't Die
"I'm hacking," he explained.
Re: Defuse a Bomb So That Half-Dressed Norwegian People Don't Die
Re: Defuse a Bomb So That Half-Dressed Norwegian People Don't Die
He was trying hard to three-star this level.
Talk to Pam, Cheryl, or Sterling MFing Archer
Re: Talk to Pam, Cheryl, or Sterling MFing Archer
Just so he can brag about it to Krieger later.
OOC