fandomhigh | Advanced Takeout, Monday, May 8, 2017

For the first day of class, there was a nice selection of protein shakes or coffee for the students to grab before things started. Because they were starting on a high note. It was all down hill from here on out, kids.

"Hello, and welcome to Advanced Takeout," Tony said. "I'm Mr. Stark or Tony if you'd rather."

"And I'm Steve Rogers," Steve added. "Um, calling me Steve would be kind of strange. Welcome to Advanced Takeout. We know there are a couple other food-related classes this summer--this one is for people who can't cook."

Like them.

They only blew up one kitchen! On island. So far.

"Captain Rogers," Tony suggested to the class because Steve lacked the casual sweaters for 'Mr. Rogers' after all. "It's the first class, so things will be easy with letting us know your name and why you picked this class. You're in for a lot of this for the rest of the week. Sorry."

Steve grinned. "You can also tell us your biggest kitchen disaster. We blew up a microwave making apple pie a few months back."

Don't ask how. Just...don't.

"And I even have a doctorate in chemistry, so it can happen to anyone," Tony added cheerfully. Because it had been for science. Didn't you all feel better about yourselves?

"And after you're done with the introductions, you can try to make coffee or a protein shake," Steve said. Which, well, Tony's robot DUM-E had a hard time doing, so it can't be that easy, right?

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The mention of Grub Hub seemed to have magically manifested Summer's cell phone into hand. It was an addiction. It was her lifeforce. There was no escaping it, and she was scoping out the options on the island. The food reservoir was finally getting low in her system.

"Huh?" she moved her head, but not her eyes at first, as her finger scrolled. Then her eyes followed. "Oh, yeah, no, definitely not. Hey, do you know if this Chinese place has a good Schezuan sauce?

She had no idea why she was suddenly craving Schezuan sauce.

"Eh," Tony replied, thinking it over. "I've had better, but it's pretty good."

"Yeah?" Summer asked. "Where at? Can you get it Grub Hubbed here?"

With what money, Summer? All you had were pills.

"Ching Tai, they do their own delivery, and maybe next week," Tony replied, counting the answers off on his fingers.

"So, like," asked Summer, while simultaneously appearing to be composing a manifesto on her phone, "do you know a lot about the different restaurants here and everything?"

"I do," Tony replied with an amused expression, craning his neck a little to check out the phone. "It's takeout or frozen pizza if I want to eat something that isn't burned or boiled."

Thanks, Steve.

And, depending on what he could see, Tony would be treated to a frank comment about whether or not someone named Chad Chetson would still like Bonnie Clark if he knew her back acne had flared up again this summer or a threat to her brother that she would tell everyone in school how he used to throw his poopy pants out the window when he was a little kid if he didn't dole over some information, two conversations she seemed to seamlessly switch between without batting an eye.

"So what do you think about that diner place in town?" she asked. "Duke's, or something?"

Both of which seemed normal. Right? Right.

"Luke's," Tony corrected. "Good selection. Great burgers. They might need Grub Hub for any delivery. Which... on this island might be employing squirrels."

Very normal, compared to the response that had Morty threatening to tell everyone about the time Summer peed her pants when they got stuck in the elevator after Bulk! the Musical, which Summer countered by pointing out that desperate times called for desperate measures, and, besides, it didn't count because that didn't even really happen, because it was all a false memory created by a brain-eating virus, duh, Morty, God!

"Luke, right," she said, "and what do you think about this gu--"

She was going to dig for some information on her potential partner-in-crime, but the squirrels derailed her. Summer was easily derailed. She even stopped texting.

"Wait, did you say squirrels?"

Well. Marvel. So, that last part did make a little sense.

"Yeah, you get used to it. They're drunk most of the time, I gather."

Please excuse the little tiny girlish sound escaping Summer at just that moment, because she was thinking about tiny little squirrels in baseball caps delivering her little sliders on platters, and she was lit-ter-a-ly dying.

"Ohmygod, that is the cutest thing in the entire world!"

Pause.

"Well, not the drunk part. Alcoholism is a really serious problem."

It probably wasn't very sanitary, either, but whatever. Squirrels delivering burgers. EEEEE!

Tony nodded along with that obediently. "Have you heard the radio broadcast yet?"

"I...have not. Tell me more, Mr. Stark."

And she was texting again, just a little. Don't take it personally, though. As a 21st century teen, she might actually die if she stopped for too long.

She was talking to the guy who could now text with his brain. Nothing about this did he consider rude.

The other teacher, on the other hand...

"The squirrels tend to, well... spy on people to report all the gossip of the day."

And that didn't just derail Summer. She literally just dropped her phone. And literally in the real way and not the fake one.

"Spy???"

Squirrels, you ain't so cute all of a sudden.

"Bribes tend to distract them," Tony suggested.

Blushing profusely, Summer swept up her phone and texted a few lines to settle her nerves and set her head straight. "I mean," she said, muttering, "of course they have spies. Why wouldn't they have spies? But why did they have to be squirrels? Ugh, they ruin everything! But bribes, bribes are good! And they're drunk, so they like alcohol, but I'm only seventeen, where am I going to get...I'd usually go to Grampa Rick, but he's in prison, but there's got to be a way, if there's parties here, then there's bound to somewhere to get boo...."

Internal monologue. How about we try an internal monologue, Summer, yeah?

"..ze." She cleared her throat.

"So, these squirrels spy on people and report to a radio station and there's, like, a broadcast about it? That's not creepy or anything."

"It's super creepy," Tony replied, eyebrows all up there at that lovely little monologue. "But they usually get things wrong."

Advanced Takeout, Monday, May 8, 2017

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