Kapital Zwei
'Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, oh yeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-eeeeeee-aaaaiiiiirrrrrrr! Za!' Chloe crooned triumphantly, kicking the amp over in a lame attempt at rock and roll.
Meanwhile, in Chloe's brain: Another dumb blonde strolled out of a door and declared to the brain director, 'Sir, we're losing coolness on the leadership meter!' The BD's face twisted in alarm. 'OK! Open the hatches! Fire out a comment... from the cool box...' 'Sir, yes, sir! Also, the left wing's been knocked down...' 'It's never been operational! Just... get to it!'
Chloe blinked as she came back to the outside world to see Cola and Nikk-kol feigning delight. 'Chloe, that was... awesome!' Cola drawled ingenuinely from behind her plastic toy guitar. Nikk-kol gave the drums a final pat with her fluffy pink sticks. 'You rocked, Clo!'
'I gave you some awe... 'cause I'm awe-some!' Chloe laughed into the microphone as her sycophantic friends nodded, wincing.
In Chloe's brain again: 'Mission accomplished sir. We put the 'K' into 'cool!'
Flace and Matthew slumped in their dorm. Despite the year-long sunshine, they always seemed to be indoors... always.
The peace was disturbed as Slogan burst into the room. 'You guys... we've got trouble!' Matthew looked up blankly. 'Oh no. Anything actually important?' Slogan glared at him sarcastically. 'Ha-ha, wise guy.'
'Thank you. I am pretty wise,' Matthew replied glumly.
'If you were fruit, you'd be sour grapes!' Slogan snarled brutally before turning to flace. 'I was just spying on the girls' reherseal.'
'Dude, that's not cool,' Flace said uncomfortably. 'That's warm, man!' He gave a lopside grin and a half-hearted drum roll in the air with his fists.
'I don't get it... shut up! Listen, man, Chloe's so much better than us... and, for the sake of filling in these twenty-two minutes, you have to sabotage her equipment so we can win.'
'WHAT?' Flace squawked. 'Why do all the plot devices end up with me having to hurt Chloe when it's not even nervous... I mean, necessary... what the hell...?' As Flace squinted at the script, Slogan handed him a baseball bat. 'Do it.'
'No, seriously, is this a typo?' Flace asked the other two, concerned, with a necessary grin. 'I mean, how the hell does a necessary grin look? Shouldn't this mean nervous?'
'Shut up about your stupid scripting errors already!' Slogan demanded. 'We want to win this thing. And the only way that'll happen is if Chloe's band goes down.'
Flace sighed weakly and slumped out of the room. 'Surely that's not the only way of winning? I don't even like this where this is going. That new scriptwriter tried to sell me a watch, and the font on this script is written in blood... oh, I don't know...'