So... hello again? Well, I was away for so long because you could say I am on stress leave, or had a minor breakdown, am taking a vacation, or lots of other things. At the end of the day, I was at a school that was just torture, and now I'm out of there; think Kurt this season except backwards. Now, I'm going to public school, leaving my private school, because the bullying got too bad. Sigh. The joys of adolescent life, huh? Well, at the end of the day... SORRY! I loved updating, but that school was just a vicious thorn in my side. So, I feel like I'm starting from scratch, and although I will try and update some of my stories [finish ET, Kurt's Anatomy, and Scars, which was my baby :(] I guess being picked on takes a hit to your confidence, so while summertime was great for me to post stories, I wasn't in an emotional state to really want to write anything at all. So, now, I'm taking three online courses, but until then, no school, because I'm moving from term to semester. That took a lot longer then it needed to, but now, THE GOOD PART! So, I've been thinking that, while I enjoy some of the new season, some of it frustrates me a little bit because the risks aren't big enough yet, and not enough is really happening. So, I've decided I am going to go for a lot more outrageous stories. Scars was pretty stereotypical, and even Kurt's Anatomy was pretty straightforward, but think E.T strange for my new stuff. This first story is called S&M, which stands for Schuester and Masochism, and it's the story of a teacher who gets broke and finds a job that might pay well enough to get him out of the debt. I'll give you a hint; my inspirations were Rihanna's S&M, and the Zanzibar club in Toronto, which slogan is "72 Nude Dancers! Our Girls Never Stop!". Of course, it is Teen, and other than some thug language (sorry for that...), it's pretty clean. Anythin' dirty is left to the imagination for the most part. I am going to try to do a Dialogue Exercise (because I love readin' em, so why not write 'em?), and write a long story about... zombies? I know. I took a break, and now I've gone crazy. But if I don't get to the story, you're all going to hate me. I don't own it, blah blah blah, Ryan Murphy, whatever (does anyone think people are trying to take credit for Glee?)
Like many cliched stories with unbelievable occurrences, this one begins in the small town of Lima, Ohio, where, unbeknownst to our protagonists, something strange is about to occur. Because, for reasons that could only be described as ignorant, naive, and neglegent, William Schuester decided that the William McKinley High School Glee Club needed new costumes, and Kurt Hummel would be the best guy for the job. On paper, that sounded like a good idea; he wore only the best clothes, followed all of the trends, and had just begun interning at an up-and-coming fashion line at the other side of town. But in reality, anyone who knew Kurt would have slapped Will in the face at the news that follows; he gave Kurt the Glee Club Budget credit card. Kurt only had two missions; to get some new costumes for sectionals, and to stay underneath the budget. And that is how our story begins...
"$27,834!" Sue chuckled to herself as she heard Will's voice crackling away at another student. His voice in anguish would be enough to power another 6 miles on the treadmill for her, and would be another addition onto Becky's series of mixtapes; William Schuester: A Failure. But right now, Will's mind was only on Kurt's failure, which was spending three times the Glee club budget on a series of designs by Armani, Versace, Hugo Boss, and even Chanel (for Rachel's sure-to-be spectacular ballad selection, of course).
"You told me to buy the nicest clothes in town, and frankly, there was nothing nice in town, so I thought it best to hit the world wide web, and get some of our Glee club threads from online stores. And frankly, we got some pretty good deals-"
"Deals? Deals? What kind of deal bankrupts the Glee club and has me fired from my job?"
"Fashion has it's price, Mr. Schue. Learn that, and we'll be a fashionable force to be reckoned with at Sectionals."
"We can't even go to Sectionals, Kurt! With the amount of money you spent, the unemployment line is my next stop." Will wiped his brow furiously, before sitting down on one of the several empty seats. Perhaps it had been a sixth sense to have Kurt come in 15 minutes before Glee rehearsals to tell him this news, but either way, none of the Glee kids had to see this.
What felt like an eternity for Kurt passed, waiting for Mr. Schuester to say something, until he realized that perhaps his teacher and mentor had become so possessed with rage, he was speechless. Come on, it couldn't have been that bad, right? So, Kurt may have gone a little overboard, but it would be worth it in the end, and the budget was negotiable, so it's not like it's the end of the world.
"Wait. Kurt, we can fix this!" Kurt felt his heart skip a beat as Mr. Schue leapt from his chair, looking like a new man; a much, much happier man. "Yeah, all we have to do is return all of the clothes you bought, and then we're all set, and maybe we can get someone a little more... cheap, to buy the clothes!" Kurt's expression fell almost as fast as Will's mood had risen at this news.
"Return? Mr. Schue, these were sale items. As in, final sale. There are no exchanges, returns, or anything of the like." Will's face went stone cold, and he sat back down in his seat, finding a spot on the wall to look at, just anything but his student. "Wait, look, this is my fault, so how about I just try and pay the bill myself out of the money at my work."
"Kurt, I can't have you do that. Your just a kid, asking you to pay that amount of money would be pure insanity. Besides, we have to pay off this bill in the next thirty days, or the school will catch wind of this, and we're toast." Kurt began to pace around the piano, trying to look as hopeful as possible, but really, he was feeling as helpless as Mr. Schuester right about now. How could he have done this to his teacher? The poor guy had just gone through a divorce, lost a "baby", and the love of his life had married a dentist in Vegas. The kids were his one support in his life, and now, he was toast. Kurt had to admit, though, he was handsome toast. And who knew he looked so adorable concerned and upset? Brooding. He could almost be a-
"Model!" Will jumped from his seat, and looked up to see Kurt's beaming expression. "Yeah. model! I read on our news bulletin that Marc Jacobs is looking for a male model to stare in their new ad campaign for their new male fragrance!"
"What does that have to do with me?" Kurt sighed at the confused teacher. Was he honestly so clueless? First Finn, and now him. Why did all the cute ones have to be so thick?
"It's an open call. You should try out!" Will spent a second or two looking stunned, then, went straight into laughter. "What? What's so funny?"
"Kurt, that's nice and all, but modeling? Me? No way. I'm not going to book a job like that, I'm too... ordinary."
"Mr. Schue, are you kidding me, you're nothing but! I've seen you at parent teacher meetings. Ladies swooning, mom's flirting; I heard a rumor that Coach Beiste kisses a picture of you before she goes to bed every night. And you should hear the stuff Santana says about you and how when you sing, she can almost picture you climbing on top of her, reaching up her skirt, and-"
"OK, OK, thanks Kurt, I've got it. When's the audition?" Kurt smirked widely in success.
"Tomorrow afternoon. 3:30. I'll write you out the address." Kurt pulled a sheet of paper out of his bag, hunched over the piano, and began to write, barely being able to focus with the older man looking over his shoulder.
"You know, Kurt, even though you caused this problem in the first place, you're a life saver. And I don't know what the Glee club would do without you." Kurt didn't have any idea as to how to respond to that. Say, 'thanks, I know'? 'Have to convince Rachel not to throw a party'? 'Let's find out when we sneak away to the janitor's closet this rehearsal and make sweet love like slutty teens at a community centre dance'?
"Let's hope we never have to find out."
Dear diary,
I am in love with William Schuester. Sure Coach Sylvester made me sign with my blood that I am sworn in allegiance to her and her movement against his curly locks, but something about him just makes me swoon. He's not like Finn or the other guys at this school. Those guys are just as nice as their intelligence let's them be. Will, though, he's nice because he means to be. He could have killed me, or worse, spat on my Gucci gloves after the news today; but he didn't. Just listened, maybe yelled a little, but mostly just various worried looking poses, all of which were very attractive for a man of his stature. I don't plan on going Monica Lewinsky with the guy, but when I'm out of this school, and I'm over eighteen, and he was interested, then I already have the wedding planner on hold. Which reminds me; Will really will make the perfect groom. I already have the most gorgeous shade of periwinkle for the the floral decals on his tuxedo that will make his eyes pop. Those people at Marc Jacobs would be fools not to take him, something I don't say about fashion deities lightly. Really, Will is a Schue in ;) . Let's hope he has better luck then I did with my puns, diary.
William Schuester walked out of the all white building, feeling the most embarassed he had been perhaps in his entire life. "Sexless stick in the mud"? Really? He didn't like to think he was the cockiest guy on the block, but even he thought that he was pretty handsome. Certainly not enough to make people run for cover. And from what he'd heard from Kurt, enough to make Santana hot. But those people cared about knowing her. These people wanted head-shots, and charismatic stories, previous employers. Will was never going to call full-time models airheads again, because it was clearly a lot harder then it looked. Looking through the shoddily labelled envelop ("William Shoester" was not impressed with their secretary's attitude) he found the photographs that proved oh-so sexless. Wow. Maybe they were right. But it wasn't his fault the set-up was a step away from a brothel! Homoerotic cowboy theme? What's next? Exotic stripper? Will crashed right into someone, spilling his photographs to the floor, and knocking over a shrippy looking man with a handlebar mustache, who was chatter away on an ancient looking cell phone. Will dashed to the ground, trying to gather the photographs before the stranger could see, but-
"Lucky horse." Will looked up from the ground, beet red, to find the man had a completely serious expression. Now things were getting strange. "You know, coming from that building with... those pictures," The disdain in the man's voice being enough to make Will want to hide under his sheets like a high school prank victim, "I would say you're in need of work." Will nodded slowly and unsurely. I mean, what was the worst that could come of this? "Look, right down at the end of the boulevard, one of my investment projects. Little sleazy, but, from the looks of it, you're desperate for work. And it pays well, so whatever little crisis you got yourself into, you can jump right out of in no time." Where had this guy guessed Will was in any sort of financial troubles? If Terri or Emma was here, he was sure they would be strictly opposed. Following a stranger? Bad idea. But really, his home would be a prison cell in 30 days, and what did he have to lose?
Will looked up at the dusty old sign perched on top of the given address. "Elizabethan Tea and Biscuits" was what the chipped paint said, but Will wasn't too sure that spelt sleazy. Was this all just some kind of joke? Will felt a little rumble under the ground, and looked up to see that the thin glass pane, coated in dust, had begun to rattle a little to a heavy bass drum beat. It was now or never. So, Will put his shaky hand onto the door handle, and pulled the door wide open, letting in only the artificial light of Xenon lamps into his eyes. The place was darkly lit, but clearly open based on the large amounts of noise coming from downstairs. The walls were decorated with all kinds of paper advertisements, and from here, Will could hear the auto-tuned vocal stylings of Ke$ha, and laughed to himself thinking of poor little Brittany. From there, things only got seedier. The steps were tiled with a cheap plastic material that looked like it was out of a 1970's dance hall, and those ratty little pot light lanterns were hanging from the ceiling. Will reached out for the stair railing, but only felt the cheap lights that were wrapped around the surface, tackily decorating the place. Poor Kurt would have a nightmare if he had to visit Will at work any day. But then, Will could not believe what he was seeing. Vinyl seating? VIP booths? Ratty velvet rope? If Will didn't know any better, he'd think this place was a- HOLY SHIT!
"Rat-a-tat-tat on your dumb-dumb drum, the beat's so fat going to make me-"
"What's going on here?" Will's voice cried out over the rattling of the speaker. The music screeched to a halt, and some shady looking mafioso type guys pulled guns out of their baggy jeans, and directed them right at Will's head.
"Yo, you best not be some kind of motherfucking nark, or something, or undercover cop, or some bullshit. So, the question is, what's going on here?" Will would have normally laughed at how absolutely stupid these guys sounded, but with a series of guns directed towards him, he wasn't in a laughing mood. Instead, he decided playing nice guy might get him out alive.
"Hey, guys, you know, there must be a misunderstanding, I was told there was work here for me, Elizabethan Tea & Biscuits, you know, short guy, mustache..." The guys slowly, but surely, put their guns down, and began to chortle with laughter. Then, one wearing a pair of blacked out shades looked right at Will's hands, and snatched the envelope right out of them. "Hey, don't, there's some personal stuff in-"
"HA!" Will cringed in embarrassment as the overweight guard laughed over his racy photographs. Kurt Hummel was so dead at this point. "Hey guys, look, curly got a pony for Christmas and decided to take it for a ride!" The entire bar burst into laughter, and even what appeared to be a male stripper in a pair of Swarovski adorned leather hot-pants chortled out a laugh or two. "Look, kid, these are cute pictures, really, and I guess if the boss thought you were cool, you can take the cage for a whirl tonight. But I'm tellin' you right now, there ain't no way you stayin' there too long with that conservative thin' you got goin' on." Will's face went beet red, and he immediately tried to jump into an explanation of some sort.
"Wait, uh, I'm sorry, I don't think-"
"You're wages for tonight are going to be $200, not including tips, which we expect 50% of. Male, or female audience members, don't discriminate. Do good at the nightly tip cash in, and you get a bonus. Got it?" Will couldn't believe this was actually happening. A stripper? A god damn stripper? What choices did he have? Go back to Lima, spend 30 days with the Glee club, leave them, Sectional-less, and go into the slammer? And Kurt was definitely going to wonder why he didn't get the gig. And if he had to show that porcelain skinned teenager those awful pictures, he was going to rip out his hair, and shove it down Sue Sylvester's throat. He'd had experience seducing women before, right? And he'd always thought he was sexy... ish. What the hell.
"Alright. Let's do it."
*Gasp* Big cliffhanger! Not really, but whatever. Considering I've been on crazy-leave for a while, I'd say it's not too shabby (emphasis on the TOO). Try and maintain your faith, readers. I would like to state, though, Kurt and Will Schuester do not, not, not, not, NOT hook up! I cannot be clearer! I will not be responsible for some pedo-action at WMHS! The song was Sleazy by the oh-so classy Ke$ha (who is my favourite trashy $inger of all time), and there will be more stripper anthems soon, believe me! I've chronicalized my iTunes library, and I found the most commonly used theme tags were 'sexy', 'stripper', and 'kinky'. Pop music. Like no other genre. So, pretty, pretty please try and review, or even alert, because you have no idea how happy that makes me. Honesty time? I alert almost every story I read. Honest. Do I read all of them? No, but do I at least like being able to flip through stories on my phone? Yep. So, if you are one of zillions of people who have gotten an alert from me... PRETTY PLEASE? This would be the best coming back gift ever! Whatever, begging is for sore sports. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Until next time!