"Now, now, Mark," said Professor Bicycle, "that's not the way to climb the Pillar of Storge! Go away, you damn sissy!"
Mark Evans ran away, crying. He joined the Trix Rabbit in their crying corner of shame. That Professor Bicycle was vicious.
"Com ON proffie!!11" cried Alara, "u wer SO meen OMG"
Tamara silently nodded. Her neck did not let out a creak, lemme assure you. Except it cried a bit, but that particular clique cries everything so let's ignore that.
"BiThc!" cried Clara to Samara (Ha! I've included all the students by now! Victory is MIIIINE!).
"d00d," muttered Samara with slight weeping action, "that's a mad typo."
"Samara, you didn't cry that! Err...EbOnIcZz," cried Tamara. They proceded to kick Samara out of their group. Literally. Samara, rubbing her shins, tried talking to Billy and the Trix Rabbit.
"So, Billy...it's a relief to not cry things anymore. And to not type talk in ebonics anymore."
"Baa," wisely replied Billy.
"Yeah," shouted Samara with a fierce-like-Tony-the-Tiger glare, "well, I'm rubber and you're glue! Think about that, Bill!" Tony the Tiger later sued her, but that's another story for another time.
Samara stalked off to join Blaise Zabini. The nerve of that goat.
"Blaise, my friend...what is happening?" inquired Samara.
"Did Professor Bicycle get a new mailing address, nevermind the fact that we're both living in this castle? 'Cause my rose arrangements got sent back to me."
"What did they say?" asked Samara suspiciously. One could see lightbulbs forming above her head, not yet turned on. Mickey Mouse was sitting behind her, ready to light 'em up.
He shrugged. "Nothing offensive. 'REVOKE THE RESTRAINING ORDER AND LET'S MAKE SOME BABIES!' What beautiful woman wouldn't want that?" He lovingly patted the lock of hair that he had just pulled from the professor's head. Just then, she had turned around and made eye contact with Blaise.
"Frannie. I loooo--"
Just then, with a deafening 'Baaaaaaa!', Billy leaped onto Blaise, not letting him finish those fateful words. Blaise would have died, if there wasn't a doctor in the house.
Dr. Phil.
"I'm not a real doctor, man."
Fine then. He landed on Oprah.
"Wanna talk about your feelings?" she asked.
"No thanks," said Blaise.
"Children, let's try a new concept," cried Professor Bicycle, "why don't we weave baskets...underwater?"
"I thought Mark Evans was in charge of that." said a goth kid. Nameless goth kid's nameless girlfriend breathed a sigh of relief that they were finally being mentioned.
She shrugged. "He's busy with Harry. Being a great-aunt isn't an easy job."
"You're telling me!" cried Mark Evans, sipping tea from the Mystic Kettle of Nackledirk.
"You're auntagonizing me!" shouted Professor Bicycle with a wide, wise-cracking grin.
Everyone, including that pesky laugh track, chuckled a bit. Oh, Professor.