Duke Crocker (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
betterthanaplan) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomhigh2020-01-28 11:59 pm
betterthanaplan) wrote in fandomhigh2020-01-28 11:59 pm
Entry tags:
Advanced Bird Haberdashery, Wednesday, period 2
Duke had been sorely tempted to skip class today. He'd had a particularly terrible night, last night, and the only reason he didn't have a raging hangover right now was because he was still at least a little bit drunk. But nothing said "fuck you, Mom, you don't get to fuck me up anymore" like getting off your ass and doing your goddamn job, so here he was, with a new rule to add to his list and everything.
And then he walked into the classroom before class to find a handful of eight foot tall dinosaur-looking fuckers with axes for beaks waiting for him.
His planned rule was scrapped. Instead, the sign at the front of the room said:
Class rules:
1. Do not eat the birds
2. Do not FEED the birds
3. DO NOT GET EATEN BY THE BIRDS
Duke himself was seated at the teacher's desk, holding a very large hunting knife, and staring the nearest bird down like he was some kind of battle-hardened warrior instead of a petty crook.
"Near as I can tell," he said, when the students who were brave enough to stick around seemed to all have gathered, "these fuckers are called 'terror birds'. And should have died off 3 million years ago." He picked up a stack of instruction sheets without taking his eyes off the bird. "We're going to make them floppy-brimmed sun hats. And they are not going to mess with us." He gave what he'd decided was the lead bird a sharp, every-so-slightly-crazy-eyed look. "Are they?"
The lead bird ducked its head down with a submissive squawk and scratched at the floor. That tile was never going to be the same again. Duke smiled.
"Good. Glad we got that settled."
And then he walked into the classroom before class to find a handful of eight foot tall dinosaur-looking fuckers with axes for beaks waiting for him.
His planned rule was scrapped. Instead, the sign at the front of the room said:
1. Do not eat the birds
2. Do not FEED the birds
3. DO NOT GET EATEN BY THE BIRDS
Duke himself was seated at the teacher's desk, holding a very large hunting knife, and staring the nearest bird down like he was some kind of battle-hardened warrior instead of a petty crook.
"Near as I can tell," he said, when the students who were brave enough to stick around seemed to all have gathered, "these fuckers are called 'terror birds'. And should have died off 3 million years ago." He picked up a stack of instruction sheets without taking his eyes off the bird. "We're going to make them floppy-brimmed sun hats. And they are not going to mess with us." He gave what he'd decided was the lead bird a sharp, every-so-slightly-crazy-eyed look. "Are they?"
The lead bird ducked its head down with a submissive squawk and scratched at the floor. That tile was never going to be the same again. Duke smiled.
"Good. Glad we got that settled."