"Whose FREAKING idea was it to make a freaking school for Brawlers?" The Director, of SSBB Academy, paced back in forth in his office, wearing a hole in his carpet.
"I believe it was yours, sir," his young assistant, Mrs. 888, pushed her glasses to the top of her nose, balancing a folder full of student files and an envelope with their entry fees concealed inside. Director gritted his teeth. "NO! 'Cause if I was, I would've let Transformers be part of the brawlers' team. Maybe even Care Bears, but, like I said, NO! Now all these dumb kids and teens are going to be living her for the next…..who knows what years!"
"Four, sir." She grinned. Her boss+4 years of annoying kids= A HELL OF A TIME! Mrs. 888 clacked over to her own desk and sat down, opening a drawer to stick the files and money into. "And besides, sir, school has already started. Classes start in," she looked down at her watch, "10 minutes."
The Director shook his head. "Hand me my aspirin, please, and make sure to tell the creators to think twice about this whole, school idea. It's practically suicide. The whole freakin' school has to be cleaned and the teachers have to get paid, and the dorms have to be cleaned to, and we have to watch out for any boys trying to sneak into the girl's room because the whole dorm is frickin' CO-ED! And plus, we have to plan field trips and brawl times and-"
"You're stressing yourself out for nothing. It'll be fine." Probably not, his assistant smiled. She slapped him on the back and went to the hallway, turning down to the left heading towards the nurse's office. He sat down in his chair and held his head in his hands. "OMB!" he breathed. "Oh. My. Bieber."
He banged his head on the table and ignored the pain. Looking up, he blinked as he saw Mrs. 888 reading SSBB fanfiction and he groaned. People were already writing about them. "Oh god," he mumbled. Head-ache!
"THESE ******* KIDS ARE ******* RUINING ME! IT WASN'T MY ******* IDEA TO MAKE A SCHOOL FOR THESE PUNK*** BRAWLERS! IT WAS THOSE ******* CREATERS! FORCED ME TO DO THIS, MY ***! WHAT? THE LIGHT? WHAT LIGHT-? You're telling me that that light means that my voice is being broadcast over the whole school? Oh, who cares! Let those damn kids know how I feel, those little mother- ugh, fine!"
The Director pressed the little green button and continued to dent a notch into his desk. "What have I gotten myself into?"
"Don't worry, sir. There's always Biebercide."