Chapter Whatever
Brushing the many inches of dust off the (so-called) plot line, I find myself reappearing after many months of neglect upon the scene. Placing my safety goggles firmly upon my noggin, I...went shopping for the magic calculator. Impoverished from going to Diner-land, I realize I need money. In search of green dollar bills, Jon's momma found me and...said that it would be rather disappointing if...some idiot lost the frigging folder (but we don't really have to worry about that, do we?). Not finding any money there, I...decided... to steal Brian's assignment pad again and...again and...again ad infinitum and... look up "ad infinitum" in the dictionary while scolding Tom for using such...esoteric Latin verbage. Resuming my search for the great and almighty...magic calculator, I took all 5 cents out of Brian's locker and in return, I offered him...a bag full of styrofoam peanuts. I saved him the trouble of putting them in his bag and did it for him. As I was stealing some more things, I saw Mr. Silver coming down the hall towards me while...eating his rancid...lowfat buttermilk scones. I immediately yelled, "Look, a run on sentence!" That got him away. Now clear from danger, I continued to...search for some money with which to purchase the wildly expensive magic graphical calculator with which I planned to...type a secret message into it using the ALPH key. I will then send my secret message to...Jon's momma. It will inform about getting rid of Brian. But for the meantime, made the mistake of asking Mr. Silver about his back. He responded (with his funny nasal voice)... with one of his long, redundant, boring, and ever so pathetic stories about his New York City Model Agency. Of course I was immediately shot into a state of viral ennui. "Look! He doesn't know how to use laid and lain!" The fool! He immediately...started snorting and jumping up and down and up and down and up and down and up and down, for he was not really Mr. Silver, but a...cheap imitation trying to teach me Pre-Calc. "Slope! Quadratic! Algebra!," it shouted wearing ugly shoes. I immediately...shot it with an elephant gun, but to my dismay... it plugged it with a totally incomprehensible equation of a line formula. Quickly tossing the useless thing aside, I...made fun of Brian. Twelve generations later...I was still making fun of him, but the Silver imposter was dead. Good joss, he had a whole 8 cents on hem, but there, in his pocket, was also a...thesaurus. "For shame!," yelled Mr. Andrews. "How dare you try and make your essays sound nice by not repeating the same word three times. I took it anyway, but he... decided to challenge me to a game of laser-tag. Sadly, Mr. A. didn't know I was the universal laser-tag guru. After I taught him his lesson, he... took a real gun and accidentally...shot down a passing 747. Unfortunately, it crashed into...a second sub-national bank. a wild looting spree broke out. Money was everywhere and I was thinking to...use this money for my magic calculator purchase! At last, I could buy a graphic calculator (or most of Australia). Unfortunately, my sidekick told me...he wasn't really my sidekick and I shouldn't address him as such. I responded by... telling him to bugger off (Oi!!), but he turned out to really be a Russian spy! With the collapse of the USSR and Mad Bad Vlad in Plaid, he was doing some freelance info espionage, and he had been traveling with me to learn the secret of... freelance espionage. Grabbing a bundle of money, I told him to buy a book, but then I realized that...he was illiterate. The communist educational system had failed him. Dumb Commie. "Capitalist pig!," he yelled. "May you die in the hell you oppress your citizens in!" Feeling somewhat offended, I took my gun and...danced a jig. This distracted my suspected sidekick long enough for...me to give the story to Nat who... threw the Commie into a dark pond with frogs (gribbit). I gave my sidekick the brush (for now!), but due to mass rioting, I only retrieved... $3, which I gave to Brian to buy a clue. My sidekick gave me back the brush I gave him and...painted me a pretty picture. In the picture, there were... a bunch of kids failing American History tests. "The AP is for wusses," one of them is saying. I told him not to scare me with such pictures because...I have to take such a test next period. Being the Chef, I kicked his @$$ and then...taped his bollocks back through his legs, up his back, over his head, and on his nose, holding it up like a pig snout.
**and now it's time for a station break**
"Let it be known that I am an Ass"--Shakespeare
**we now return you to your normal programming**
Looking like an ass, I...brayed loudly and said,"he-haw." I then ventured into the great history hall to find out my history average. I brought along a team of paramedics and cardiovascular surgeons to revive me after the inevitable heart attack that will ensue upon my discovery that my history grade is...-¥. Urk! Luckily my pacemaker was still intact, but the microwave wielding history teacher was coming! I decided to use reverse psychology and a deck of cards to cheat him out of AP money, but alas...my nose fell off and I had to stop to look for it. Retrieving it from behind the dishwasher that miraculously appeared in the storyline, I stood up and discovered to my dismay that...Tom decided to start a new plotline (with 23% new material). While I was failing an AP essay, the chemistry monster came, screaming, "AP! Ion! Essay test!" I instinctively...yelled, "Not today, tetrahedron-man," and ran out of the room screaming, "Multiple choice and the Regents forever!" Feeling slightly insulted, he...exploded [boy does he overreact (get it? React--chemistry, ha ha! Ugh, ouch, get off, mmph, what the--, mmmph, arrggh!)]. Anyway, with one teacher out of the way, I proceeded to...play blackjack and blow another math test. After that, I felt like making fun of Brian, so I asked: "How many Brians does it take to fail an AP test?" Nat said...-2i3. Brian works too hard and therefore his social life only exists in one place, his home and debate--no! Two places, his home, debate, and his computer--no! Well, we used Brian's super-fanatical-work-ethic against the teachers. We gave the Mathlark 26 of Brian's long math assignments and reports, but she simply ignored them and marked them all 100. Crisis! Brian was at a happy 100% average and the Mathlark was still unaffected. I quickly asked her, "Quick, what is the value of a3 + 1/a3 if (a + (1/a))2 = 3?" I quickly put on my safety goggles before Nat wrote any more and the Mathlark's scalp feathers changed from white to puffy brown and she...whipped out a snowball (a pink one with coconut) made be the lovely people at Hostess. But enough about that--Ahhhhh!!! Tara Cox screams and it frightens the crazy bird lady and before she can answer she... flies away, never to be seen again for at least another 2 pages (or 4 periods, whichever comes first). The mad raving Mathlark is now screaming, "Where is your graphing calculator!?" Realizing there actually was a point [sic] in what I was doing, I...quickly stole Brian's and, using the Alpha-lock key, wrote a secret message to...Jon's momma. In it I asked her to... smack Tom upside the head for writing such a sissified entry. Brian, however, immediately realized that his calculator was missing, and promptly threatened to go to the library and write a 10 page AP essay, even though the teacher only asked for 1. Fearing such a fate, I...pulled out my gun and shot him. Unfortunately, the librarian jumped out and screamed, "BE QUIET!! DON'T YOU KNOW THIS IS A LIBRARY AND PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO WORK!!" Fearing for my life and my English grade, I...typed in "Abolition" along with "slavery" on the MAS computer. Now when she videotaped me, the video would reveal that I was working. Unfortunately, because *someone's* grading system is based largely on supposition, I was still reprimanded (circumlocutively) for my indolence. "But Teacher," I said plaintively, "the screen says 'Abolition.' Why don't you believe me?" For punishment, he ordered that...I should never receive a grade above a 90. "Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!" I screamed, but then decided to pin it on Brian, so I...stole some of his pens, and wrote a letter to a certain english teacher: dear English teacher, I was working on debate in the library. From, Brian. P.S. I am gay... Anyway, when Brian found out, he tried to...dance a wild chicken dance to invoke the quasi-debate gods upon me. Their omnipotent power was less than awe inspiring. Fixing my strap on my safety goggles, I waved photographs of Brian's assignment pad before him and threw 23 T violations at the unsuspecting quasi-gods. To my delight...their stomachs, already upset by interstellar light-speed travel, blew up. Yuck (good thing I had safety goggles on (you never know when they might come in handy)). Brian, his gods vanquished and befuddled by the T violations, retired to his computer to download the "Contract With America" so he could maintain his absurdly high AP History grade. Venturing out into the wilds of the untamed band room, I...watched as Dave...proceeded to curse out any known life forms in the immediate vicinity. Fortunately, Ali was there to...throw malted cheese-puffs and mollify the rabid beast. Unfortunately for the known civilized universe...they were extra sharp and gave the beast gas. As the cursing beast went on a tantrum, it happened to knock the lock off of Brian's locker <excellent>. I cleverly thought, "Why buy a magic calculator when I can borrow one? heh heh heh. Searching through a pile of debate rubbish, I...gave Brian a pretty card with lots of funny-looking letters. In return, I knew Brian would offer me his assignment pad, so I just helped myself. Quickly closing Brian's locker, I surreptitiously ran away from... absolutely no one, since no one cared that I was taking something of Brian's. Actually being followed by a group of supporters, we... ran into the PAC to play hide and seek, but were discovered by the hideous and raving...PAC men. I quickly pacified them by offering Brian's assignment pad as a snack, but not before I found out where Brian kept his calculator. It was hidden in... my pocket the whole time. Isn't that interesting. Helping myself to Brian's pens, I then went to play Hearts in the PAC...or maybe tag.