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fandomhigh2005-09-15 01:58 am
best-bang-yet.livejournal.com) wrote in fandomhigh2005-09-15 01:58 am
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Fashion, Style, and all other things you need to know to be a generally Hoopy Kid. 101.
Zaphod walks into class somberly, and stares at his students. For a few long moments, the room is eclipsed in silence.
“Your world is going to end.”
Zaphod’s deep baritone cuts through the room like a knife. Without waiting for the students’ reactions, he continues.
“Specifically, it’s going to be annihilated by a fleet of alien ships. Or it’s going to be eradicated by nuclear missiles, as yours is one of the only planets still backwater enough to think that keeping highly explosive war machines in populated areas is a keen idea. Or, a new ice age will make you all into semi-evolved popsiciles.”
As he speaks, Zaphod’s mouths start to quiver.
“Or gnomes will stop hiding in the dryers and eat you all in your sleep. Or the cheese monkeys will finally show themselves and start the revolution. HAH! Oh man, are you kids buying this? You should have seen your faces. Some of you were even there till the bit about the cheese monkeys. Wild.”
Zaphod grins winningly. “No, really, your world is going to be blown to smithereens. But, there’s nothing you can do about it. I could do something about it, but I don’t really care for paperwork. So, if you’re going to die a brief, but painful death, you may as well do so looking good. Take a look at me.”
Zaphod motions to himself. “Good lord, just look at me. This kids, is style. This vest, made out of 100% Bethselamin hooker fur. The cowboy boots too. The pale green is particularly hard to come by. And I mean that in more ways than one.”
“Some of you may argue that I don’t match. That fur and spandex aren’t meant to tango. I argue that most of you are primates, so what does your opinion matter? It doesn’t. Style is an attitude. You wear what you want, wear it with really hip machismo, and eventually suckers with no self-esteem of their own follow you blindly. I was president of the galaxy, I know a thing or two about followers.”
“Take a tick to look over your syllabus.
“Now, I’m going to give you this week’s theme. Bondage Space Pirates. Make it work. Oh, and keep it pg-13 rated. If I get fired, I can’t convince the Principal she’s mad for the Beeblebrox.”
Zaphod leans back in his chair, pulls out a magazine, and waits to be semi-impressed.
“Your world is going to end.”
Zaphod’s deep baritone cuts through the room like a knife. Without waiting for the students’ reactions, he continues.
“Specifically, it’s going to be annihilated by a fleet of alien ships. Or it’s going to be eradicated by nuclear missiles, as yours is one of the only planets still backwater enough to think that keeping highly explosive war machines in populated areas is a keen idea. Or, a new ice age will make you all into semi-evolved popsiciles.”
As he speaks, Zaphod’s mouths start to quiver.
“Or gnomes will stop hiding in the dryers and eat you all in your sleep. Or the cheese monkeys will finally show themselves and start the revolution. HAH! Oh man, are you kids buying this? You should have seen your faces. Some of you were even there till the bit about the cheese monkeys. Wild.”
Zaphod grins winningly. “No, really, your world is going to be blown to smithereens. But, there’s nothing you can do about it. I could do something about it, but I don’t really care for paperwork. So, if you’re going to die a brief, but painful death, you may as well do so looking good. Take a look at me.”
Zaphod motions to himself. “Good lord, just look at me. This kids, is style. This vest, made out of 100% Bethselamin hooker fur. The cowboy boots too. The pale green is particularly hard to come by. And I mean that in more ways than one.”
“Some of you may argue that I don’t match. That fur and spandex aren’t meant to tango. I argue that most of you are primates, so what does your opinion matter? It doesn’t. Style is an attitude. You wear what you want, wear it with really hip machismo, and eventually suckers with no self-esteem of their own follow you blindly. I was president of the galaxy, I know a thing or two about followers.”
“Take a tick to look over your syllabus.
“Now, I’m going to give you this week’s theme. Bondage Space Pirates. Make it work. Oh, and keep it pg-13 rated. If I get fired, I can’t convince the Principal she’s mad for the Beeblebrox.”
Zaphod leans back in his chair, pulls out a magazine, and waits to be semi-impressed.
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