A/N: Wuaha! Up-date!
XD
Enjoy!
Who's Not Letting the Ghouls Out?
Chater Three
"Food Fight!" came the call. As if on cue, everyone in the whole cafeteria except for some who had hid behind over turned tables, began to toss food around. Milk cartons went flying through the air, spilling their contents over whoever was unlucky enough to be beneath it's flight pattern. Fries, slosh, what look like sloppy Joe's, everything! If they didn't know better, it'd be almost a majestic kind of thing.
"Food fight?.!" shouted Danny, Tucker, and Sam all at once as they had barely taken a step into the cafeteria.
The lunch ladies, having not seen who had shouted the cue before, now turned to the trio of friends as they tried to dodge food particles and clumps.
"Hey!" Tucker shouted as a milk carton layered his red beret in chocolate milk.
"Ah!" Sam shrieked as a clump of sloppy Joe's came colliding with her bared stomach. She scraped up the food sliding down her skirt and shouted, "Who threw that?"
Sliding off to one side, she vanished behind the frenzy of food throwing hooligans. Tucker also vanished from Danny's side, leaving the boy open for fire!
"Hey, Fenton! Catch!" shouted the annoying voice of no one other than Dash Baxter.
"What?" Danny asked, but got no further into his arguement as food came crashing into him.
"That's it!" he shouted and picked himself up from where he'd been knocked down. He clutched a handful of random, mushed up food and got ready to throw it right back to Dash. he brought his arm up and behind him and was about to throw only to find that another hand had clutched his wrist.
"Mr. Fenton! Drop that food!" commanded the stern voice of his English teacher Mr. Lancer. Danny froze and noticed everyone in the cafeteria freeze and drop the food in their hands. He gulped.
Danny looked behind him, leaning his head back. The seemingly upside down face of Mr. Lancer caught his eye and Danny loosen his grip on the food in his hand, making it drop down to the ground with a soft 'splat!' sound.
"Who are responsible for this mess?.!" Lancer shouted.
The lunch lady, who somehow had managed to sneak into the food fight and not get dirty while doing so, came out of the crowd with two teens held by their shirts in one fist.
Sam stood there, something that looked like ketchup on her hair -- which was a mess -- and her arms crossed over her chest, an angry scowl plastered onto her face. And Tucker stood there also, a grimace on his face, his red beret in hand, which he liesurely twisted as milk dropped down to the floor. No way he was putting THAT back on his head. Danny also noticed that his glasses were missing. Wonder where they went...
"Mr. Foley, Ms. Manson, and Mr. Fenton," Lancer said, scowling at each as he named them. "You're all going to clean up this mess. And after you're done, I demand to see you in my office for punishment."
All three of them started to argue at once.
"It wasn't our fault!"
"We didn't start it!"
"We got stuff to do!"
"There's a test next period!"
"I demand a lawyer!"
At this, everyone stared at Tucker. The boy opened one eye, then the other. Everyone stared questioningly at him.
"What?" he asked, shrugging his shoulders. "This is a violation of my rights!"
"Tucker, this doesn't have anything to do with your rights," Danny said.
"Ever heard of 'Innocent until proven guilty'?" Sam asked. "This has a lot to do with his rights."
"Really? Maybe I should have paid more attention in Government class..." Danny murmured.
"would you three please be quiet!" Lancer shouted then. They all stared at him.
Thgen a thought caught Danny's attention. "Hey, Mr. Lancer?" he asked.
"Yes, Mr. Fenton?" Lancer said.
"Can you let my wrist go? My shoulder's beginning to ache."
"Oh, right, well, everyone go back to class!" Lancer shouted. The lunch lady unhanded Tucker and Sam as Lancer let go of Danny's wrist. "And you three," Lacer said. "You three follow me to my office. you'll clean this up later..."
The trio shared a glance, but obeyed.
"You're kidding me!"
"We don't know anything about this kind of stuff!"
Danny and Sam argued with Mr. Lancer, who only sat there listening with a patient expression. That could only mean one thing: there was no changing his mind.
Sam and Danny sighed, sitting abck in their seats and wondering what they were going to do now...
"Anything to say on your behalf, Mr. Foley?" Lancer asked. The boy had been silent all throughout the lecture.
"Nothing else can ruin ym day, Mr Lancer," the teen replied solemnly.
"Who are we going to be partnered with?" Sam asked then.
Their punishment was to help some kid build the bots for the haunted house thing on Friday. Four days jammed in the Auto Body Shop Class with a bunch of mechanical parts and screws as their companions. At least they were in this together. Tucker didn't seem too unhappy though.
Now all they neeeded to know was the person they'd be helping.
"Mr. Sullivan, please come in," Lancer said. All three teens sat up straight in their seats and stared at the door anxiously.
The door opened and a perosn stepped in dressed in kahki-colored pants that were too short for him and a tucked in white dress shirt. Black-framed, square glasses sat on his nose, magnifying some of the freckles upon his cheeks. His red hair was neatly combed except for a couple of locks that stuck up behind his head.
And Tucker felt like he would puke; Sam put her head in her hands and cursed silently; and Danny slumped back in his seat and crossed his arms.
"Mr. Fenton, Ms. Manson, Mr. Foley, please meet your partner, Mikey Sullivan."
E/N: Next chappie'll probably be up next week or on the weekend late that night!
There's some stupid girl that wants to get down with my friend at school and you know that they say! 'Once you mess with one lozer, hell, you mess with them all!"
In truth, my sister and I just wanna make sure things are fair! -cracks knuckles- but man, I wanna get to pop her right in the jaw!
Well, night guyzes!
Oh, and for those of you who may not know what 'get down' means, it means fight. So yeah...not many people say it the supposed 'ghetto' way...I don't see what's so ghetto about it...
--Airamé Phantom