Author's Note: This is only meant to be a very funny ponderment of life, fantasy, and stereotypes. Please take lightly, I'm only looking for a way to laugh during my summer. I didn't intentionally copy someone, I swear, I came up with this on my own, with a little inspiration I'm sure, but if this has been done, a thousand apologies. Inspiration of style of note-writing from Giddyupgal. I'm trying to write with a more obvious narrator... Not sure how it will turn out. I'm also picking a high school setting because I think most people can relate to it, and me especially. You've either been through it, are going through it, will go through it, or have at least heard about it stereotypically. No flames please, constructive criticism welcome.

A Classroom Environment

Let's start at the beginning. Apparently, the beginning is a very good place to start, or so I have heard. Some people prefer to start at the end of a story and work backwards, then forwards, then backwards again. Sure, flashbacks are fine, but too dreary to write efficiently. Like I said, the beginning. That's where we're going to start.

A long long long long loooooongg time ago, the world was made. Not the world you and I know, and not how we think it was made. Oh? The Elves didn't tell you? Dear me. Well there was this dude. Quite an important dude, for they call him the creator and such. His name was Illuvatar. He had this group of... things, you could call them. Entities. Gods. Whatever in the world they were, he gave them all nicknames: Ainur. Two different kinds, mind you. Valar and Maiar. Valar are by far the most powerful and highest above all. Shudder in fear! There are only 15, but what does that matter? There are many Maiar, but they're not very important.

Anywho, each Vala was different, controlled different things or had a different personality. Back in the day, in the Timeless Halls, or the Never-Ending-Classroom the Valar so lovingly dubbed it, Illuvatar had the task of teaching his Ainur about everything. As his students filed into the room, Illuvatar pleasantly smiled, counting off each one and remembering their quirks.

Ah yes, Manwë, the old Football Captain. Cherished by many and the Homecoming King... On his arm, Varda, the stereotypical varsity Cheerleader Captain. And the Homecoming Queen. Striding in, Ulmo, the Surfer "Dude." Yes, that type. Bleach blonde, beautifully tanned, sparkling blue eyes. In a huge contrast, Nienna the Goth, maniacally depressed and melancholy. She cries a lot too... I do feel bad sometimes. Aulë, the Quiet Shy Strong Type. Keeps to himself and has a few good friends. Ah, of course, Yavanna, the Social Butterfly. Renowned advice-giver. Oh, yes. Sauntering in, Oromë, the Flirt. He's a fine-looking guy and he knows it. Uses his charm to get his way, or the girl of his choice. Vána, the ditzy young wannabe. She does everything in her powers to be "coolest." Sometimes I feel like I should pity her... Naaaa. Mandos, the Emo. Has bouts of depression and a blog. Need I say more? Vairë, the Nerd. So obsessed with her work, doing well, and getting good grades. Lórien, the Slacker who does "okay" on everything. Has lots of free time for an imagination. Estë, the Busybody and prime gossiper. She has a heart of gold (most of the time) but a mouth of water—it keeps running. Near the end, Tulkas, the Aggressive Jock who is always on his toes looking for someone to agitate. Ah, Nessa, neither does athletics nor book work, the Odd One Out. She can blend into the crowd though. Illuvatar grimaced. Melkor... truly the Bad-Ass. He gets in trouble and doesn't give a care! Got the nickname Morgoth because he nearly burned the whole place down, looking for the Flame Imperishable. No idea how he nearly burned the Timeless Halls down, but whatever.

"Okay, okay class. Please settle." Illuvatar grunted slightly as he shifted his weight and glared at the cackling Morgoth. Varda's primness seemed ruffled with Yavanna's yammering. Vána was preening herself with a compact floating in front of her, extra-shiny Ainur lip gloss looking unnatural on her young appearance. Oromë was near the back, kicked back as usual, radiating handsomeness with an all-knowing Smirk. Smirk, capitalized of course, because it was nearly permanently on Oromë's face. Frustrated as Illuvatar was, he sighed, knowing it would be another long class, stretching out for eternity. Literally. The Timeless Halls were timeless, you know.

Official Line Break

Estë sighed boredly as Illuvatar started droning some lecture about singing the Song. She hated class, mostly because she couldn't actually speak. So she used her next weapon. The Note. Pulling out a piece of paper, she quickly scribbled a question, folded it, and sent it to Yavanna, her closest gossiping friend.

I heard from a friend of a friend's sister's brother's reliable source that Manwë is LOSING interest in Varda! Is this true?

Tsh. Don't believe everything you hear, Estë. Besides, how reliable can this source be?

Very reliable. Like, so reliable you wouldn't even believe.

Uh-huh. Right.

No, seriously!

Yeah, like, oh ma gawd.

Grr. Away with you, Oromë!

Oromë! Can you prove this little "factoid"?

"Factoid"? Hm. Manwë not liking Varda? Utterly false.

WHAT!

Yeah, sorry hunny bun.

Don't you dare call me that again.

Ooo! Estë's got a boyyyyyfrieeeeennd! Teeheehee!

Ew. Who let Vána in?

Gasp! I found it myself.

Riiight.

Don't look at me like that.

Sure, Oromë, sure.

WHO LET ULMO IN!

I did. You need another guy to clarify that Manwë is NOT losing interest in Varda?

WHAT! Since like, when, dude?

Since never, Ulmo.

Dude! Yavanna dudette! We need to hang out sometime.

Hee hee. Hi Ulmo!

Erm. Hi, little dudette. ANYway... Manwë's losing interest in Varda? Like, no way.

Like, yes way!

No, no. No way.

I'll agree with Oromë. I've seen not one single shred of evidence.

You guys have way too much time on your hands.

Speak for yourself, Lórien.

Varda's such a slut anyway. Manwë deserves better.

Gasp!

Gasp!

Gasp!

Gasp!

Get over yourself, Nienna. Don't hate her just because she's queen.

Queen? Ha! You people call her queenly because she has her nose stuck up a mile high.

What-everrr. Whoever let Nienna in is going to pay.

Muahaha.

OUT WITH YOU MELKOR, OUT!

Youuu caaan't maaaake meeee.

Watch me.

One minute later

"Class! CLASS!" Illuvatar roared and tried to get his class under attention as Tulkas had tackled Melkor out of his seat, and Oromë had joined in on beating him up. Melkor was still cackling madly and the girls had shrieked and scurried to the other side of the Hall. Mandos rolled his eyes. Ulmo was egging them on and assisting Oromë while trying to hold down Melkor simultaneously. Running a hand through his hair, sighing, and sitting down on his desk, Illuvatar gave up and decided Melkor needed an ass-whipping anyway.

Later that day...

"You know, I thought I had you figured, Aulë."

"What do you mean, Oromë?"

"I thought you had a bottomless well of patience."

"Oh. I see. Yes, well... Melkor stepped over the line... Again."

"Ha. When does that NOT happen?"

"Yeah really."

Oromë and Aulë walked on in silence, enjoying life, as they knew it.

"Oromë?"

"Yea?"

"Why do you think Illuvatar wants us to sing the Song?"

"The Song? Well I'm not very sure..."

"If he's the creator, can't he just say 'BAM!' and it come to life, whatever he wants to create?"

"I suppose... Why do you ask?"

"Eh. Dunno. One day, I'm going to make some people. They're going to be hardy. Short. Fuzzy. And be obsessed with... with smithing!"

Oromë chuckled. "You do that, Aulë. You do that."