A -DEGRASSI- Mary Sue

You've probably already come across a DEGRASSI Mary Sue. She is best friends with Ashley Kerwin, and usually ends up being romantically linked with Craig Manning or Sean Cameron. She is the most beautiful creature to ever live, but is horribly scarred by some tragic event that happened just before she came to Degrassi. She's been beaten/raped/committed but that doesn't get her down, no sir. Mary Sue lives the happy life of a normal teenager, keeping her secrets locked deep inside of herself. But you see she's not exactly one for the cloak-and-dagger lifestyle because someone ALWAYS finds out.

Her encounters with Paige Michalchuk always end with a fight about fashion and a sworn mortal enemy. She always hails from the United States, but never seems to have a problem with the fact that she left her friends behind. The girls want to be –just- like her. The guys want her for her two-dimension personality and her plain, but SEXY body. In short, Mary Sue is what the author desires to be, but never will be. And oh yeah, she *luvs* Linkin' Park. (Taken without permission from: Bizarre Bazaar)

To Hell with Good Intentions

~ Chapter Two: Conformité ~

Frank Ardagna was a simple man. He lived in a modest home with his plain wife. He was long retired from his original job as an electrician – Frank had quit when he realized everything now was too new for an old man to relearn.

When he had been forced into an early retirement though, all of his plans had been shot. So Frank had had to take up a few small jobs to pay the bills, including a job as a bus driver. The last thing he ever needed -or expected- was a Mary Sue-induced heart attack followed by a large medical bill...

~~~

As the water from the plastic squirt gun splashed onto Lane's potato sack shirt, two things happened. The first was a loud, high-pitched squeal that nearly shattered the windows on the bus. The second thing, although it was a bit more delayed, was the bus swerving off the road and into a ditch.

The surprise collision sent the kids on the yellow death-trap with wheels, flying. It was almost like some sort of mad rendition of the show 'The Magic School Bus', with the teens suspended in midair as the bus soared towards the bottom of the swampy dike. But this was without the magic and the happiness. Because in the end, with bodies and backpacks sprawled everywhere, everyone wanted to go home, not just that one red-headed kid.

After the dust had settled in a figurative way, and everyone was righting themselves, a loud cackle erupted from the middle of the bus. It had taken Lane more than a few moments for her to fully realize what she had done. And now that she did, the Mohawked Mary Sue was laughing it up. A big grin spread over her demented angel-like face. "Now that was a bus ride!"

~~~

It turned out that nobody was seriously injured. The bus driver was fine. He still slightly shaken from the experience, but all in all, everything was O & K. So after several minutes of the bus going into a hard reverse, they were back on the road again.

Lane was still grinning. She loved accidents of any kind. It gave her a rush that no drug could ever replace. And she liked freaking people out by being happy like that. Unfortunately for Lane, the rest of the ride was relatively calm and quite, if extremely disturbing. The punk with the SQUIRT gun wasn't bothering her anymore, and Lane normally would have been happy. But she wasn't; she still had one more question to ask.

The fussy teenager leaned around the seat and tapped the kid on his shoulder. He jumped at her touch and immediately whipped around to see what Lane wanted.

"What?!" he half whispered, half shouted.

Lane grinned. "What's your name punk; you still haven't told me your name.

The punk glared at the Mohawked Mary Sue but after a few minutes, he relented. "The name's JT."

The now-named punk started to turn back around in his seat, but he stopped and faced the bitch again. JT glowered, "You know, you haven't told me your name either..." He trailed off, expecting an answer.

"Yeah, I know," stated the shady young woman. She waved her thin fingers in front of his face and donned a 'mystical' voice. "That will be revealed in due time." Lane lost the corny accent. "But for now, you shall call me Bob, Lord of the Sparrows."

"African or European?"

"Does it matter?"

"To some people, yes it does."

"It is decided," she cleared her throat. "I will be known only as: Bob, Lord of the African Sparrows and Kitchen Spatulas?"

JT frowned. "Spatulas?"

"You have a problem with spatulas?" Lane glared. "Cuz if you do..." She waved her fist threateningly.

"Ok, spatulas it is."

Lane extended her hand and took up the other teens'. "Good to meet you JT No-Last-Name. You call me anything other than Bob, Lord of the African Sparrows and Kitchen Spatulas and I'll disembowel you on the spot. Now let go of my hand."

The punk obeyed.

The Mohawked Mary Sue glanced around nervously. No one was paying a bit of attention to their banter, but Lane's second motto was "you never can be too careful". Her first was "cry me a river and I will drown you in it".

The Bitch leaned in closer towards her new lackey. "Now that that stuff is well and done, we can get down to serious business."

JT gulped and settled in closer.

~~~

When the bus finally pulled to stop in front of the school, everyone ran off to get away from the loudmouthed girl. The bus driver wasn't as lucky. His seat belt had gotten caught and now he had to wait for Lane. Frank Ardagna ground his teeth together in anticipation for the moment when he could leave. But unfortunately for him, Lane was a bitch.

She slowly stood up. She slowly put on her shoulder-bag. She slowly adjusted her potato-sack shirt. And then she finally, but slowly made her way down the aisle.

"Good thing," Lane fired off rapidly when she reached the front of the bus. "I was just about ready to scrape some of that pig dung from under my armpits and chuck it at you, Mr. Bus Driver Man."

Frank continued to grind his teeth and muttered, "Get off the bus." He was forcefully gripping the steering wheel and his foot was on the gas pedal.

But Lane didn't get the message. "What? What's that now? Scream and yell and jump up and down like a monkey? Well, it's a little unorthodox, but ok." Lane did so, much to the frustration of the agitated bus driver.

Frank managed to state, coherently this time, "Get off my bus. Now." Each word was said slowly and carefully, with a force behind it.

Lane heard the man, but chose not to pay attention. She instead, swiftly sat down in one of the seats. Gaining a 'trucker accent', the teen started to ramble on about her family. "So yeah, way back before I was born, my mother was an 18 year old prostitute. Then she met my father, who was 35 at the time. Well, they fell in love, got married, and I was born. Or it could have been the other way around, I really don't remember—"

"Get off the fucking bus!" the bus driver roared. His face was red with frustration and anger.

The Mohawked Mary Sue made a nasty and some rude gestures. "Well," she said huffily. "I see I am not welcomed here." She stood up and for once in her life, Lane Logan submitted to someone else's command. "I think I'll leave." Her butt slid off the seat and she walked down the three steps that led to the pavement.

Lane normally didn't take defeat as well as this, but after all, she had an entirely new school to trash. Before the bus driver could close the door, let alone frantically drive away, Lane quickly turned around and chucked a brown paper bag at Frank, the elderly bus driver man.

A grin was plastered across her wicked face as she saw the sack explode against the driver. In that bag had been her lunch – a glob of coleslaw. Lane hadn't put it in some sort of container just in case the very situation at hand had arisen.

"Good shot!" the bitch complimented herself. The driver was covered in the gooey mess. She politely waved goodbye as the infuriated man drove away. Lane giggled when he almost hit a group of preteens who were trying to cross the street.

Lane slapped her hand on her thigh. "I crack myself up."

Suddenly, the Mohawked Mary Sue heard a voice by her side. "Your plans have been set in motion, Bob, Lord of the African Sparrows & Kitchen Spatulas! All is well."

The bitch looked down and saw JT, that punk from before. He was still wearing his blue baseball cap backwards. She glared. "Lose the hat. You look like a demented clown."

He fidgeted. He kicked his foot into the ground. The punk did everything he could but remove the damned hat. "But ahh.."

The whoring Mary Sue frowned. "Why aren't you removing that abhorrent thing from your head?"

"I have horrible hat hair," JT confessed.

"That is not a reason, soldier. That's a lame-ass excuse."

"Ok, ok," he started. "I have a receding hairline and I'm a bit embarrassed about it." JT sighed. "Don't tell anyone about it though."

"You're just like that guy on that commercial." Lane squinted. "Yep, I can just barely see the 'nape'. You must be a real hit with the ladies, you testosterone fool. TO BAD YOU'RE GOING BALD!" She shouted out the last word, causing a few bystanders to glance over to see who was causing such a ruckus.

"Shut up," JT hissed, very aware of all the eyes that were now on him. He adjusted his cap and lightly punched Lane's shoulder. Before he knew what hit him [a fist], the punk was on the ground looking up at his attacker, a very angry Mary Sue.

"Don't you ever touch me," she spat out. Lane's eyes were small slits. "Nobody is allowed to touch me," the bitch paused and JT saw her face glow. She continued, "Except the magical people of the mushrooms. My precious, oh how we love the mushrooms. Yessss, we love the 'shroomsess, don't we preciousss?"

"The what?" JT interrupted. He was lounging in the grass looking up at the rambling Mary Sue. His wound was practically forgotten.

"Never mind. It is way too complicated from someone like you to understand. It's bigger then you could ever imagine. If I were to tell you it would be so far beyond comprehension, I believe your brain would, in fact, explode."

JT rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

Lane extended her hand and hauled the younger teen up off the ground.

"So..." she said, looking around suspiciously. "Did you say the -plan- was in motion?"

The punk got into attention position: trail arms, chest out, shoulders back, and feet together. "Ser, yes ser!"

The Multicolored Mohawked freak grinned. "Fast learner, eh?" She paused and frowned. "Did I just say 'eh'? Holy crap, I did!" The demented teen slapped herself several times while JT looked on blankly.

When the violent whore regained her composer, she continued. "Ok soldier, you know your job. Now go do it." Lane mildly added on, "Fall out."

JT saluted the Mary Sue smartly, and then briskly walked away towards the Degrassi campus where quite a few students were already standing around rather boorishly.

Lane continued to stare at the road where the bus had dropped her off mere minutes ago. She had yet to even see the school. The Mary Bitch sighed and reluctantly muttered, "Time to get me some proper education. The teen spun around madly on her heel for two and a half rotations. Lane now faced what was supposedly a place of higher schooling.

Disappointment hit her harder than any plywood board ever could. She stood with wide eyes and an open mouth staring at the building she was now going to call 'school'. Lane's mouth suddenly popped closed and her full lips curled into a repulsive sneer that would even scare Jack the Ripper.

"Ok all the rotten luck!" she fumed. "I'm going to a school for faeries and pansies!" The whoring Mary Sue's voice became steady again, in a 'so I am crazy, big deal!' sort of way. "I'll just have to do something about that..."

~~~~

I own naught of Degrassi. Lane is a character that came out of my twisted mind, not yours, so no stealing! And I apologize for poor grammar, spelling errors, or anything that doesn't quite make sense to you. Politely point it out to me and I'll change it.

Now it's time for the Three R's: Read, Review, Resipiscent. Much obliged!