Journalism Class - Monday September 19

[jerusalem-s.livejournal.com]

This morning, Spider is properly dressed, looks far too awake and chipper, and is seated on the edge of his desk, reading what looks to be a short stack of print-outs. The cat is frolicking beneath some of the desks, chasing invisible two-faced mice and batting at anything she might find on the floor. There is a small box on one of the desks, neatly labeled 'Medusa St. Clair'.

Duce arrives at class just slightly over one hour early.

Engrossed in his reading, Spider glanced up only long enough to be certain he knew who was there, before going back to his reading. He crooked a finger at her and indicated the package.

Duce tilted her head, eyeing the box for a moment before realization dawned. "Ah. The bottle. Thank you. Wednesday would have our a.. butt on a plate if we didn't get that back."

"I enclosed a thank you note," Spider told her absently, still scanning the pages. "Please be sure to read it thoroughly."

Nodding, Duce takes the box to her seat and places it under the desk. "We'll be sure to do that." She then gets on with class per usual.

Waiting until he appears to have a full class for the day, Spider begins to speak, not looking up from his reading. "First things first. Because there's been some unrest on campus and a number of complaints from concerned students and staff, we've all been stripped of our weapons. Therefore, lesson one today is to please be fucking responsible or your fellow students and/or faculty will also be paying the price because Principal Connor believes in being fair. Now, unless you, like I, are accustomed to armed death squads breaking through your door and invisible assassins visiting on a regular basis, I don't want to hear a single goddamn complaint - not because I'm a company drone, but because I will regard it as gutless whining. If you can't defend yourself without a weapon or manage to improvise on the fly, then I have no confidence in your ability to defend yourself, period."

Looking up from his reading, he continued, "This all boils down to the simple fact that if some people exercised common sense and responsibility, we'd all still be armed. I'm hoping that if everyone behaves their damn selves instead of acting like a bunch of puling, spoiled brats, we might eventually be allowed to get our weapons back. However, childish or irresponsible behavior on the part of any one person, could easily get all weapons banned permanently, including from the firing range and fencing salle. Please do not fuck this up for the rest of us, and please feel free to spread the word."

The cat chose that moment to interrupt, leaping onto the desk and beginning a hunt for cigarettes. Spider found and lit one for her before turning back to the class and holding up a print-out. "I assigned no homework for this week because there's been a great deal of flux in the student body, so you can all save your extra-credit points to spend on skipping your homework next week. Instead, I'm going to offer you a chance to score big."

Spider fended off the cat as he stood and gestured to one of the screens where a website popped up. "This, my children, is The Weekly Tentacle. This is a class about Journalism and I feel that this is the perfect opportunity to get you to demonstrate that you understand what that means. Submit something to the Tentacle this week and if it turns up in the next issue, you get extra-credit. This will require spying, bribery, sneakiness and the ability to prove to me that you did the work and that whatever scurrilous gossip you actually submit has a solid basis in truth. For today, I think that class would best be spent articulating your views on the articles in this week's rag. Discuss."





((OOC: Spider's player is rather grossly sick this morning and probably will not make it into work and will instead go back to bed. He'll probably be available on AIM this afternoon, if that's the case, and the Townie backlog will be dealt with as will any other admin-type things that built up on his day off. Sorry, guys.))

Comments

[marieann-d.livejournal.com]

Rogue walks in, and takes a seat. In response to the weapons ban, she says, "I just don't really understand what this fuss about weapons is all about. In my world, the people without weapons are the ones you really needed to worry about--you never knew what they might be capable of. I mean, you know what a gun can do, but you don't know what the guy in the red shades is capable of. I think that here, that's also true. I mean, there are vampires, werewolves, possibly evil aliens, and I know there are mutants, none of whom need weapons. So, I just don't get it."

[jerusalem-s.livejournal.com]

"I've been persecuted heavily when my only weapon was the written word," Spider told her approvingly, "and I've brought down entire heavily armed governments with that one weapon. If a portal opens on campus and vomits forth the armies of hell... I can see wanting and needing a weapon. But if people are so insecure as to fear and hate their fellow students and/or faculty, I think it's time for them to quietly pack their bags and go home. This is a fucking high school, not a war zone, and the drama should not be punctuated with bullets or blades."

[medusae-x.livejournal.com]

((ooc: I still love you and want to bear your twisted spiderspawn. But I'm going to kick your ass for making me laugh when my stomach hurts, biznatch.))

[jerusalem-s.livejournal.com]

((OOC: *mimes obscene air-kisses*))

[marieann-d.livejournal.com]

Rogue nods. "The pen is mightier than the sword, and I truely agree with that statement." There is a pause, while she tries to collect her thoughts, but settles on, "I've been hurt by words far more than any gun or knife could ever hurt. And word-wounds don't really ever heal." She looks a little sad, and says no more.

I've got to go see Professor Drusilla soon. This is getting worse.