AN: I caught the idea for this little series of oneshots, which I may or may not add to or update in a sporadic, non-chronological order, whilst completing my final exams. You may or may not be offended by my awful, degenerate's sense of humor. Also, this fic jabs at Farroncest and probably will jab at a metric tonne of others. Main pairings so far are FangxMr. Snuggles, aka FangxImpromptu-sari, and food-itemsxhair, however. Sound good so far? If so, read on!

Oh, and warnings include mild language, crude jokes, and extra-evil!Nabaat.. and maybe really stupid cast and bitchy!Serah in later chapters. We cool?

Really though, this entire series will be one big joke. I'm not even going to attempt a plausible plot, unless you want me to. *wink*

"Hey, Serah! " The silver-haired bag of uncoolness that was Hope Estheim approached the lunch table and ambled into a seat that was much too large for his little preschooler tushie before breaking out his sack lunch.

"Shh! Not now, Hope," his intended target replied, "I'm trying to bang my sister's head with this plate!" Serah proceeded to try and smash a styrofoam lunch tray over Lightning's cranium, failing miserably and succeeding in nailing Lebreau instead. At the end of the table, fifth grade Sazh, who logically should have been in his last years of high school by now if the pitiful stubbles squiggling from above his upper lip were any indicator, chuckled; at least, he did until Lightning stomped his toe.

He then yelped and cradled his injured foot, exclaiming, "What the? How the hell do I get in trouble over a trench coat and she gets off with steel-heeled boots?" Despite his volume, his cries were far too muddled up in the rest of the cafeteria's chaos for anyone of authority to hear, and even in the rare event that someone did hear, there was a slim chance of Sazh being understood in his current state of burstfire cursing. Lightning merely ignored him as she did Hope and most of the table's other occupants.

Strike one. Various flatscreen monitors throughout the lunch room began displaying distracting shades of purple.

"Serah!" The indecently dressed – since the powers that be had long since given up on trying to get her to wear anything more than just half-revealing - brunette across from the little sister exclaimed, fingering the oatmeal that clumped in her hair, "What the hell? I know you're not used to rejection, but you don't have to hit on me; I'm not your rebound.. whatever that means." Lebreau frowned at the amount of food in her hair while the surrounding elementary-aged students all turned from their respective conversations and stared at her in confusion. Lightning, who sat beside Lebreau, merely glared off into space at what everyone knew was the back of Snow's bandanna, waiting for the brute to finally exit the lunch line and take his seat between Serah and Sazh.

"You mean like in basketball?" Hope inquired, "Not that I would know anything about croquet, of course." From his vantage point at the opposite end of the table, which was his designated area after the past ten times he'd been shunned away, he ducked a glob of mashed potatoes that Lebreau flicked at him from a spoon of questionable ownership.

Lebreau repressed the urge to introduce her sticky forehead to her equally sticky palm with a groan. "Idiot." Across from Hope, Maqui and Yuj discussed the latest Eden and Palumpolum fashion magazines in otherwise unobservant contentment.

Strike two. The monitors palette-swapped to orange swirls as an announcement that no one really understood blared over the intercom – something about colorblindness at the main office. Serah got the idea that the message wasn't meant to be heard as a male employee's voice carried over, "Cid, did you leave this thing on again?"

Lightning grunted, still glowering at Snow and his ridiculously large clothing; he'd publicly admitted to having his garments tailored for him just the day before prior to offering Serah his truck-sized coat. The only people taller than Snow were Sazh and the teachers; Lightning stood nose-high to him, evidenced by his bleeding nostril and the earlier headbutt on the playground that had resulted in the injury. Her deep glare was offset with the onset of Serah's hand upon her own whilst everyone except Hope averted their eyes. The two proceeded to smile and giggle like the little girls they were. Well, at least, Serah did; Lightning just sort of sat there and didn't frown quite as much.

Meanwhile, Snow tromped his way over to the table and crashed down in his self-assigned seat before Lightning, interrupting the slightly sisterly moment. "Heya, sis!" he cheered to the older, angry looking pinkette before crunching little Serah in a one-armed hug. The petite girl reciprocated soon after, quickly unlacing from the giant when she caught sight of Lightning's disapproving look; for one reason or another, Hope seemed to be mirroring the latter pinkette in a creepy fashion.

"I'm not your sister."

"What's gotten into him?" Gadot suddenly piped up, coming in from the left and settling on the side of Lebreau that wasn't taken up by a very venomous looking Lightning. "I won't ask what's gotten into her," he said, gesturing to the apparently constipated pinkette, "I know better, but that kid doesn't look so good.. kinda spooky."

Then, suddenly, Hope flew across the table in a rage, two broccoli sandwiches in hand. "Snow!" he roared at the top of his lungs, "You're going down!" Of course, with Hope being less than one third of Snow's size, the larger of the two caught him with one arm, and the only damage done was that of Snow's forehead being smattered with vegetables, bread, and mayonaise.

"Woah there," the big blonde said, "What's with you, Hope?" He appeared concerned. Neither Lightning nor Serah was amused. In the midst of all the anarchy, the cafeteria was in an uproar; apparently, the rest of the Caterpillar students had taken Hope's charge as cue for a food fight.

Strike three – full panic mode initialized. All monitors in the room suddenly took on a bright white, the intercom following up afterward with the advent of jazzy elevator music, Caterpillar's only recognizable alarm theme since all other presets had been replaced by cactuar calls.

Mrs. Nabaat, who logically should not have been a teacher and definitely shouldn't have been chief nurse, calmly donned her sadism-glasses and left her seat at the employee table before proceeding to chase children around the room with her baton, succeeding only in netting a large amount of food in her long blonde hair. The other teachers followed suit, all but for Principal Overlord Dysley, who sat in his inadequately proportioned plastic chair and twiddled his fingers together with malicious satisfaction.

Fashion forgotten, both Maqui and Yuj both looked over their shoulders and simultaneously uttered, "Hope! Look what you did!" This prompted Snow to drop Hope into Lightning's lap and turn around to see the commotion.

The boy, oblivious to the fact that Snow had single-handedly (pun intended) thwarted his attack, screamed, "Snow! Look at me when I'm trying to kill you!" Alas, the big blonde ignored him, at least until the pint-sized assailant adhered himself to the brute, kicking and flailing. "It's your fault that my mom is a lunch lady and I'm not cool!" He was promptly shut up when a pepper shaker pegged him in the temple. "Aaah! I'm hit! Oh God, I'm too young to bruise prematurely!"

"Get off of Serah's.. whatever Snow is to her!" Lebreau yelled, having stolen the object from Vanille as the girl exited the lunch line and entered the crossfire; Vanille always brought her own flavorings to lunch, often sprinkling them in inappropriate areas at equally inappropriate times. Snow's food was the defacto victim of Vanille's pepper-shaking antics since Vanille was effectively the kleptomaniac of the culinary arts, possessing the ability to steal whatever appeal that food had to offer with her idea of proper seasoning. Once, she peppered Lightning's chocolate milk and poured it into Snow's tomato soup. The blonde had thrown up on Hope as a result.

Calmly settling down at the table, Vanille asked that someone retrieve the condiment dispenser before dreamily commenting, "Ah, another wonderful day at Cocoon's own Caterpillar School for the Governmentally Challenged – isn't it great?" As she finished her sentence, the contents of what had been formerly a bowl of flan splattered her bared stomach; Vanille had always had the strange habit of rolling up her shirt and tucking it into her collar at lunch time, almost as if it were some sort of bib. The girl quickly turned sour, looking for the owner of the projectile and proclaiming, "Hey! That wasn't very nice!"

Just then, a rapidly nearing Fang shouted in alarm, "Duck!"

Splat.

Vanille had ducked well, successfully avoiding the incoming object. There went all semblance of Lightning's good day.

So much for eating in peace.