Huzzah! How is everyone? I'm fine, thanks for asking. To avoid all that
silly red tape, these characters are owned by Squaresoft, not me, but if
they were, I'd be friggin' rich. Warning: this fic has been known to cause
spontaneous outbursts of laughter in humans, chimps, and unicellular
organisms. Need I remind you that the Surgeon General says that a daily
dose of mirth is necessary to maintain a healthy psyche and good bodily
hygiene?
Classroom Acrobatics
Zell Dincht was hungry. He was, in fact, quite hungry. It is for this reason that he was headed for Balamb Garden's cafeteria, hastily in search of something to stuff into his face. Maybe, just maybe I can get one of the hot dogs, he thought to himself. He knew what he had been doing wrong all these years, and he intended to remedy that mistake today. He had come early.
But not early enough, as evidenced by the illogically long line already formed at the lunch counter. If anything, it seemed longer than when he was on time.
Nooooooo! thought Zell, but what he said was "Arrrrghhhhh! Ragginfragginsmarfrrginhotdogs!" He proceeded to, somewhat resigned, get in the line. He saw the lunch attendants open the counter, and begin handing out the golden-brown beauties to obviously pleased students. And they continued to dispense their edible wares, to the continued delight of their patrons. Meanwhile, Zell looked at his watch, played with his hair, threw feigned punches for a few minutes, and was generally impatient.
After twenty minutes, the line had not apparently grown any shorter, and Zell saw Seifer Almasy and the Disciplinary Commitee, comprised of Fujin and Raijin, following in suit. Seifer strolled nonchalantly to the front of the line like he owned the place. This elicited a rather negative response from the other students in line, but Seifer gave a smug dangerous- looking grin and the complaints promptly ceased. Zell fumed inwardly, but did not say anything. He knew Seifer, and he hated the sight of blood. Especially if it was his and it was all over the floor of the cafeteria.
Not soon after, he heard the bell for class ring. Many of the students in line groaned and dispersed, but Zell, ever the opportunist, sprinted to the front of the line. "Give me a hot dog, please!" he implored the lady behind the counter. "Sorry, hon. That kid over there got the last one."
Zell seethed with fury, then turned to concentrate his rage on the unlucky recipient of the last frank. It was none other than the mild- mannered Nida, Balamb Garden's pilot.
"You give me that hot dog!" Zell said through clenched teeth to the surprised boy.
"What are you talking about? I skipped two classes to be here on time. Lighten up." replied Nida. Zell was beginning to calm down, and was ready to leave in dejection, but Nida made the unwise decision to add, "You psycho."
The actions that took place immediately after this will not be explored in the interest of time and taste.
Zell made his way up the elevator, shaking his probably bruised hand and stuffing the remains of Nida's hot dog into his pocket. He would have to ration this one carefully. It had to last him at least the week, since he had more than likely earned some detention time for whalloping the poor pilot.
As the elevator gave a satisfied ding and opened its doors, the tardy bell rang. Oh, Lord no! thought Zell. He charged toward the classroom, burst through the door, which barely managed to open in time to accommodate him. He slid into the room, past Instructor Trepe, and proceeded to flip right over the study panel and into the lap of the student occupying it. After climbing to his feet, he brushed himself off like nothing had happened and said, panting, "Zell Dincht, present!" to which he added on an afterthought, "Ma'am."
Quistis barely managed to restrain her laughter, but the rest of the class gave Zell no such courtesy. His face began to turn a rather dark shade of red, except the part covered with his tattoo.
"Graceful, Chicken-wuss", said Seifer from the back of the room. The only one not laughing was Squall, which was a surprise to no one.
Quistis took over. "Mr. Dincht, do you have an excuse for your tardiness? Well?"
Zell thought carefully, then decided to ignore what he had just thought about and blurted out "I was late because I had to get a hot dog!" This elicited even more giggles from the class, and even Squall couldn't keep a smirk from his face. "And", he continued, "I wouldn't have been late if it weren't for Seifer cutting in line! Just because he's on the Disciplinary Committee doesn't give him the right to push us around!"
"Actually, Zell, it does", countered Quistis. "Garden code 11832: Any Garden staff reserve primary right to all Garden services."
Zell, looking thoroughly stupid, took his seat without further incident.
Later that night as he was walking to his room, busily thinking of ways to dispose of Seifer without having to carry out the body, he was approached by Squall, Rinoa and Irvine. "Hey, what's up, Speedy Frank?" Irvine quipped. Rinoa buried her face in Squall's be-leathered shoulder, giggling loudly.
"Oh, you're a riot. Go listen to some country music, you fruit."
Squall called after him, "No, seriously Zell. Come with us. We want to talk." Zell didn't even turn around before saying "Then go talk to someone else." He continued to trudge down the hall.
"It's about the hot dogs!" called Irvine.
Zell stopped and stiffened.
Classroom Acrobatics
Zell Dincht was hungry. He was, in fact, quite hungry. It is for this reason that he was headed for Balamb Garden's cafeteria, hastily in search of something to stuff into his face. Maybe, just maybe I can get one of the hot dogs, he thought to himself. He knew what he had been doing wrong all these years, and he intended to remedy that mistake today. He had come early.
But not early enough, as evidenced by the illogically long line already formed at the lunch counter. If anything, it seemed longer than when he was on time.
Nooooooo! thought Zell, but what he said was "Arrrrghhhhh! Ragginfragginsmarfrrginhotdogs!" He proceeded to, somewhat resigned, get in the line. He saw the lunch attendants open the counter, and begin handing out the golden-brown beauties to obviously pleased students. And they continued to dispense their edible wares, to the continued delight of their patrons. Meanwhile, Zell looked at his watch, played with his hair, threw feigned punches for a few minutes, and was generally impatient.
After twenty minutes, the line had not apparently grown any shorter, and Zell saw Seifer Almasy and the Disciplinary Commitee, comprised of Fujin and Raijin, following in suit. Seifer strolled nonchalantly to the front of the line like he owned the place. This elicited a rather negative response from the other students in line, but Seifer gave a smug dangerous- looking grin and the complaints promptly ceased. Zell fumed inwardly, but did not say anything. He knew Seifer, and he hated the sight of blood. Especially if it was his and it was all over the floor of the cafeteria.
Not soon after, he heard the bell for class ring. Many of the students in line groaned and dispersed, but Zell, ever the opportunist, sprinted to the front of the line. "Give me a hot dog, please!" he implored the lady behind the counter. "Sorry, hon. That kid over there got the last one."
Zell seethed with fury, then turned to concentrate his rage on the unlucky recipient of the last frank. It was none other than the mild- mannered Nida, Balamb Garden's pilot.
"You give me that hot dog!" Zell said through clenched teeth to the surprised boy.
"What are you talking about? I skipped two classes to be here on time. Lighten up." replied Nida. Zell was beginning to calm down, and was ready to leave in dejection, but Nida made the unwise decision to add, "You psycho."
The actions that took place immediately after this will not be explored in the interest of time and taste.
Zell made his way up the elevator, shaking his probably bruised hand and stuffing the remains of Nida's hot dog into his pocket. He would have to ration this one carefully. It had to last him at least the week, since he had more than likely earned some detention time for whalloping the poor pilot.
As the elevator gave a satisfied ding and opened its doors, the tardy bell rang. Oh, Lord no! thought Zell. He charged toward the classroom, burst through the door, which barely managed to open in time to accommodate him. He slid into the room, past Instructor Trepe, and proceeded to flip right over the study panel and into the lap of the student occupying it. After climbing to his feet, he brushed himself off like nothing had happened and said, panting, "Zell Dincht, present!" to which he added on an afterthought, "Ma'am."
Quistis barely managed to restrain her laughter, but the rest of the class gave Zell no such courtesy. His face began to turn a rather dark shade of red, except the part covered with his tattoo.
"Graceful, Chicken-wuss", said Seifer from the back of the room. The only one not laughing was Squall, which was a surprise to no one.
Quistis took over. "Mr. Dincht, do you have an excuse for your tardiness? Well?"
Zell thought carefully, then decided to ignore what he had just thought about and blurted out "I was late because I had to get a hot dog!" This elicited even more giggles from the class, and even Squall couldn't keep a smirk from his face. "And", he continued, "I wouldn't have been late if it weren't for Seifer cutting in line! Just because he's on the Disciplinary Committee doesn't give him the right to push us around!"
"Actually, Zell, it does", countered Quistis. "Garden code 11832: Any Garden staff reserve primary right to all Garden services."
Zell, looking thoroughly stupid, took his seat without further incident.
Later that night as he was walking to his room, busily thinking of ways to dispose of Seifer without having to carry out the body, he was approached by Squall, Rinoa and Irvine. "Hey, what's up, Speedy Frank?" Irvine quipped. Rinoa buried her face in Squall's be-leathered shoulder, giggling loudly.
"Oh, you're a riot. Go listen to some country music, you fruit."
Squall called after him, "No, seriously Zell. Come with us. We want to talk." Zell didn't even turn around before saying "Then go talk to someone else." He continued to trudge down the hall.
"It's about the hot dogs!" called Irvine.
Zell stopped and stiffened.