NPC
Foo's Lover
But I Really Love Goats
Pardon my mistakes, the vodka has soaked my brain.
Posts: 136
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Post by NPC on Nov 25, 2010 1:50:51 GMT -5
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Post by Galen Sinnessjuk on Dec 4, 2010 8:45:24 GMT -5
Standing at the front of the room, Galen glared down at all the little faces staring up at him hesitantly. Good. The little ba*****s knew what was coming. He wasn't some friendly, cheerful, smiling idiot trying to climb up the social ladder by kissing up to a bunch of rich brats.
"I'd say 'good morning' but there's nothing good about it today. If there is for YOU, keep your opinions to yourself, this isn't a feel good touchy feely tree hugger class."
He walked back to the board and began writing the topic but stopped when his ears picked up the faint whispering of some foolhardy brat that wanted to risk their existence today.
"NO TALKING!" he screamed and threw the chalk at the wrong doer, he could practically hear it zing as it went by the kid's ear, missing it by a fraction of an inch. He flicked his wand at the board, letting the writing appear on it's own. Now he was out of chalk. Next thing he threw would be the thing he brought with him. Not very heavy, but thrown at high speed he was sure it could do lots of damage.
"Ok. Today's lesson is about this ingenious device. You put bread in it, plug it into the wall, and it roasts your bread to a golden color. How dark you want it, you can adjust with these little knobs on the front. Unfortunately you can't use electric in the school, so I brought different shades of bread so you can get an idea of the result. It comes out warm, so don't be disappointed that the bread here is----I SAW THAT!!!" he cut off his train of thought and began throwing slice after slice of toast at a student who was reaching over to pass the notes, an unforgiveable crime.
"RIGHT NOW! A four foot parchment, all about the development and use of..." he squinted at the index card, "Roasters"
He sat behind his desk heavily and took a drink from the flask he always kept in his robes, easing his headache. He stared them down as if a rabid dog, waiting for the slightest out of place movement.
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Post by Sarah Jane Palmer on Dec 7, 2010 21:48:03 GMT -5
  ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ words • tag • outfit • made by DesiTack of RPG-D |
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