A/N: Haha! If you've read this local book, The Teenage Workbook, then you'll have a clearer picture about this parody. If not, then you'll still get the last laugh outta' this! Enjoy, my friends! Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy VIII, Final Fantasy X OR The Teenage Workbook. They're by SquareSoft and Adrian Tan respectively.
Note to the people: I didn't bother to do The Teenage Textbook but skipped all the way to The Teenage Workbook. Don't flame me for that! The Textbook is just the Prequel! And I don't mean to insult any of you FFVIII, X fans out there as I am a fan too!
-The Weirdest Workbook-
-By Strange Pixie-
-Guardian_Tyrael@hotmail.com-
Rated PG-13...
Chapter 0: The Introduction!
***
Righty ho! I'm finally writing a parody on one of my favourite books! Note that it's based on a local Singapore
book that made me laugh more than enough! This book has a brother. The prequel (that means what happened
before this) and I didn't really bother to make that one. Just get used to it! If you've never in your life read the
book, then it doesn't really matter. It still is damn funny. So stick around and find out how we torture the
characters of Final Fantasy VIII (and some Final Fantasy X)!
CAST
Lee Mui Ee played by Rinoa Heartilly -- Our shy heroine. Rinoa is a quiet girl with a fiercely independent streak buried deep, deep inside her delicate head. Formerly an ice-cream girl (she was sweet, but cold) she was finally melted by...
Yeo Chung Kai played by (none other than) Squall Leonhart -- Happy-go-lucky boyfriend of Rinoa. He's cheerful, kind, sincere but not terribly bright.
Loo Kok Sean played by Zell Dincht -- Many people call him the Chocolate Boy... he's rich, nutty and sticks to women's lips. Zell has another problem with lips - he has a terrible lisp which appears when he gets excited. Nonetheless, our friend thinks highly of himself as a playboy: he treats no man as an equal, and every girl as a sequel.
Sissy Song played by Quistis Trepe -- Every man's dream girl. Unfortunately for Quistis, while she's singularly pretty, she's also pretty single. Men only seem to want to have wild affairs with her, but what Quistis is looking for is a stable relationship with a nice, normal guy.
Dr E Sopramaniam, MA (East Anglia), PhD (Calcutta) played by Dr E Cid Kramer *We'll tell you his full name in a bit* -- The principal of Hyne-Knows-Where High School (Balamb Garden). He is an unusually humble man (It's unusual when he's humble). Readers however, will soon find out that beneath his rough, tough exterior, this man possesses a heart of cold concrete.
***
As we all know, the course of true love never did run smooth (mmm, that last line sounded pretty good, I should make sure no one steals it from me).
I now present to you the concluding story (for those who
have read The Teenage TEXTbook) entitled The Weirdest Workbook, or, The passing Of An
April Shower.
As they say on the radio: Pleasant viewing...
Let Strange Pixie Movies present : The Weirdest Workbook! TAAAHDAAAH!!! *Applause*
***
Chapter 1: Some Don't Like It Hot
One thing about living in the Balamb Archipelago is that nobody can ever say "No sweat" to you.
This is because we're almost always coated with shimmering perspiration. We sweat. We sweat an awful lot. And we've got the Balamb sun to thank for this.
The Balamb sun, like any other typical Balamb citizen, frequently works overtime in our Garden City.
Our sun rises extra early - so early that Balambians (stick with this name for a while until I can find something more suitable) decided some time ago to turn the clock back half an hour to try to beat it.
Our sun is extra bright - so bright that sensible people cannot bear looking at it for long (of course sensible people can't bear looking at yet another episode of Spongebob Squarepants... although no one on Spongebob Squarepants is very bright either).
Most of all, our sun is extra hot. It's really, really hot. Its searing beams beat down on Balambians like flaming whips, so that by noon, the only life in Balamb Town consists of bare-backed Galbadian tourists and bare-faced liars.
Anyway, today, Mr Sun was even hotter than usual.
For some particular reason, perhaps because Mrs Sun had made him a really nice breakfast, Mr Sun was happily pan-frying the pedestrians on the open streets with merciless vigour.
He baked the motorists trapped in their oven-like cars. He broiled the housewives lugging home their marketing baskets.
And, for the unfortunate pupils of Balamb Garden High School (BGHS) undergoing yet another morning assembly, Mr Sun scorched angry red sunburns onto the backs of their necks.
"Students of BGHS," boomed the howitzer-like voice of the principal. "Good morning."
The students, lined up in untidy ranks before him, mumbled a variety of responses:
"Good morning, sir."
"Good morning, serpent."
"Good morning, cur."
"Today is the twenty-eighth day of March," the principal intoned from the cool shade of the second floor balcony. "And my topic for today's morning assembly is 'Good personal grooming'."
One thousand six hundred and forty-six pairs of eyes watched as the speaker brushed a pound of dandruff off his off-the-rack polyester shirt.
He was Dr E Cid Kramer, principal, philosopher and great dictator of the junior college. Standing at an *impressive* height of 1.47 m in his beige suede shoes, flanked by the state flag, the college emblem, and a curious black crow, he was an *impressive* figure.
Which was a pity, really, since all the students could see of him was the top of his head. The rest was obscured by the 1.40 m high balcony wall.
Nothing hid his voice, however. It rang out threateningly to the furthest corners of BGHS, "Lately I have been observing a certain number of students coming to school with colorful watches. Let me make this clear: colorful watches are decadent. Watch straps should be black. Watch faces should be white. That is all. The purpose of a watch is to tell time.If you wear a colorful watch today, who knows? Tomorrow you might become drug addicts. Break the habit NOW." He paused dramatically. Down in the twenty-eighth row, a student shielded his eyes from the blinding glare of the sun with a plain book with a irritatingly bright border.
"YOU!" shouted the principal. "Put that book down!"
"Sorry, sir," the student said, waving his copy of the Weirdest Workbook. "I just can't put it down," he pleaded, using a phrase no reviewer had ever employed in describing this particular work.
A slim, breezy teacher placed her hand on the boy's shoulder, enquiring, "What's the matter?"
"Er... it's the sun, Miss Ellone Almasy (yes, in this story, Ellone is Seifer's sister), it's hurting my eyes," complained the student. "My pupils are giving me a hard time."
"Oh?" the teacher thought, "Mr Kinneas has the same problem with his history class."
"Next item," the principals voice was relentless. "Last week, I warned all of you not to come to school in make-up, lipstick, eye-shadow, or what have you. I caught a student breaking this rule yesterday. I will not tell you who HE is."
A student on the twelfth row blushed guiltily.
"Let me tell you that even though I said that girls may not wear make-up, the rule of course also extends to members of the male sex. Don't be stupid. I assume that... YOU THERE! Stop fidgeting! See me after assembly. Yes, you! I don't care if you're a teacher. Stop fidgeting. It's rude. People are speaking up here."
The malevolent March sun grew in strength. Below him, standing like so many sticks of satay, were rows and rows of sizzling students being grilled in the quadrangle.
After 20 minutes...
"... washing behind your ears. And that concludes my talk for today," the principal's voice rose a little. "Now, for the announcements -- but no wedding announcements, ha, ha." This flaccid joke had been repeated daily for as far back as anyone could remember, ever since God had been wearing diapers.
As usual, the only person to laugh heartily was Mr Laguna Loire, the vice-principal.
Following the morning talk, assorted students strolled up to make a variety of announcements.
"Will all members of the Violin Society please meet in the Music Room after assembly for an important briefing?"
"Will all sub-committee leaders of the Outdoor Activities Club meet on top of the big tree for a short branch meeting?"
"Tickets for the End of Orientation Ball are now on sale. Touting is not encouraged. We can tell if your ticket is not genuine because this year none of out tickets are written in pencil, so beware."
"Last week saw the end of the boys' under-18 magic-hockey championships. Results are: we lost 2-0 to Galbadia High, 4-0 to Trabia High, 2-0 to Centra High, 5-0 to Esthar High, 3-0 to Besaid High, 1-0 to Luca High and in another game, we almost beat St Braska Convent. We lost narrowly by 4-1, with our boys scoring three goals, although blown up by a Firaga spell. We congratulate our fine team. It's okay, it was only a friendly match."
The hockey team sniggered. 'Friendly matches' were never friendly, the BGSH team were never a match, even against a girls' upper primary team.
Mr Loire, the High school vice-principal, wiped the sticky perspiration from his forehead. Although, like his boss the principal, he was standing in the shaded comfort of the second storey balcony, the oppressive March heat still reached him.
Oh my goodness, he sighed. It will get worse in April. Rain and sun, rain and sun. At least in March it's just the sun. In April the weather keeps changing. Sure to get sick.
To his great relief, the announcements had ended and he could get out of the heat. It was now his turn to speak.
Clearing his throat nervously, he said, "School! Stand at attention!" The students shuffled to attention. Almost bashfully, he continued, "Er, dismissed."
Like one monstrous wave of humanity, the sea of students below him surged forward, splashing into the cool sanctity of their classrooms.
***
"Look, there she goes."
"Wow! What a body! Havoc, man!"
"Hold me back, guys, I can't control myself any longer."
Three pairs of eyes were fixed hungrily on a delicious female figure lounging on a Cafeteria bench.
They were enchanted by the soft, flowing hair that seduced her creamy-white neck. They were captivated by the ripe, swelling bosom that pushed proudly against the cotton blouse of her school uniform. They were held spellbound by the succulent, seductive hips which tapered elegantly into a pair of smooth shapely thighs.
"Who is she?"
"I'm astonished at your ignorance. That's Quistis Trepe."
"Oy! You are dripping your saliva all over me."
The girl stood up and made her way into the ladies' room.
Her three admirers slumped back into their seats, and spent the next minute screwing their eyeballs back into their sockets.
"Wowee."
"A veritable visual feast of stupendous quality."
"Really solid girl."
The first speaker stood up. Of the three, he was easily the best-looking. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had the careless, I-don't-give-a-damn look of someone who was careless and not used to giving damns.
His name was Raijin Orion.
"Ya know, I've heard a lot about her," remarked Raijin, flexing his massive, marble hard muscles. "Most people think she's the prettiest girl in BGHS."
"Well," replied the second member of the party, "Based on the evidence we have just seen, it would tend to lead me to a tentatively affirmative conclusion."
The speaker was Auron Archimedes Eu (or "Archie" to some of his friends). Auron Archimedes was the son of Professor and Mrs (Dr) Eu, both of the Physics Department at the National University of Balamb (NUB).
Although nowhere as good looking as Raijin, Auron possessed one of the finest minds ever constructed. It was a throbbing, twelve-cylinder, 8400 horse-powered brain that was capable of understanding complex concepts like Relativity-Space Continuums, Neo-Thermo dynamics, Functional Astrophysics, the reason behind the Matrix Movie and the lyrics of Eyes On Me, the remake.
This was because as a child, both his parents had spent 'quality time' with their son, with the result that at the age of four, he could perform algebra, at the age of six he mastered the violin, cello and guitar, and at the age of eight he constructed a video-cassette recorder from nine pieces of plastic, a screwdriver, two pizzas with extra cheese and an unused contraceptive.
In spite of this, Auron disliked his parents. The reason was simple and plainly obvious - he never forgave them for giving him a ridiculous name. I'll tell you what it is if you promise not to spread it around: Auron Archimedes Eu Ree Kah! (Yes, the exclamation mark also appears on his birth certificate).
At this very moment, however, young Auron's powerful, well-oiled mind was on other things: Quistis Trepe.
"Mmm," he said, "I must admit she certainly has voluptuous and succulent metacarpels. Not to mention lovely, lengthy limbs."
"And solid legs too," agreed the third speaker. He was Lee Richie Kok Key, first-born son of the millionaire tycoon Mr Lee Wee, a 52-year-old Eastern businessman.
Richie Kok Key was the favourite son of Mr Lee Wee. Although he had none of Raijin's fine features or Auron's brilliant brain-power, he managed to receive, from his doting father, a fat weekly allowance which was about equal to the monthly salary of a top instructor in Balamb Garden High.
Right now, Richie would have easily sacrificed a year of his allowance to spend an evening with Quistis Trepe.
The lavatory door opened, and Quistis emerged. She was now wearing a tight T-shirt and very short shorts. This was the standard outfit which all students wore during their Physical-Magical Education lessons (P.M.E) of magic hurling, jumping jacks, push-ups and assorted physical jerks. At this very instant however, these very same clothes were causing excitement to three other physical jerks sitting in the Cafeteria.
"Man, I can't resist her, ya know?. I feel like going right up to her and saying hello," confessed Raijin. "But soooo shy, ya know? We haven't been introduced. She isn't even in my class."
"Your hypothesis is correct, my man. That girl is way out of your class, Raijin," Auron broke in acidly. "She's different from the usual brainless bimbos who normally fall at your feet. Frankly, I don't think that Quistis Trepe will be attracted to your Neanderthal charms."
"Yah," chipped in Richie. "What a solid girl like Quistis wants is a man who can give her everything she deserves. She wants a giver. And who is better at Giving than me?"
"Your levity is neither apt nor appreciated," Archie said. "Besides, Freud tells us a woman's psyche is more impenetrable than the man's, and responds to unconscious intellectual stimulation best, which is a hypothesis that the recent Neo-Jungian school does not invalidate, while Shakespeare, in Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act I Scene iii, said..."
Richie Kok Key laughed. "No need to say so much. I would just shower her with gifts. Let me tell you, girls like Quistis cannot resist a man who's prepared to splurge gifts on them. You see, basically, women are materialistic."
Raijin laid a hand on each of his friends. "Hey," he said sternly. "You two just don't get it do you?" You think a seventeen-year-old girl wants all that? You know what she wants? Beef. Hunk. Stud. In other words, me."
"Stud? You?" sneered Richie. "The only way you can become a stud is if you screw your nose to my football boot."
"Now calm down, you two,"Auron was impassive. "I know that both of you like her, but there's no need to be offensive. On the other hand, I suppose neither of you can help being offensive, both being offspring of cavemen. Still, we've been friends for nearly six years now. So I can tell both of you very objectively to face the truth: she will not care for either of you once she has been exposed to the lure of the mental giant. Research has shown that..."
Richie lost his patience. "Ay, you two can stand here and talk all you want. At the end of the day a girls simply wants financial security. What good is love if you haven't got food in your stomach? What good is a smart husband if he cannot provide even a 1-room apartment without waiting for six years?"
Raijin grinned. "You talk a lot, man," he challenged, flexing his biceps threateningly. His chest swelled like two expanding Volkswagen Beetles and his thighs bulged like overfed whales. He looked awesome.
"Look at this guys, and look at you two. Somehow, I can't picture you - either of you weed plants - courting a knockout like Quistis Trepe."
"Oh yeah?" challenged Richie. "You want to put your money on the table?"
"W-W-What?" stuttered Auron. "A wager? Over a girl? I won't stand for it. Besides, it wouldn't be fair. It's patently obvious that I shall emerge victor ladorum. The chances of either of you achieving further than a platonic relationship with Quistis are astronomical."
"Oh yeah, four-eyes?" Raijin's blood was up now.
"Four-eyes?" You dare to call me that, you baboon brain? You, you who have the I.Q of a foetus?"
"Then it's set," Richie joined in. "The first of us who can get a date with Quistis Trepe wins. Okay?"
The three shook hands. It was a bet.
In the distance, they heard a muffled boom. It sounded as if someone was trying to flush a baby elephant down a school toilet.