Teachers Pet (Cordelia's Version)

Disclaimer: See chapter one

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I finally managed to convince daddy that Cafeteria food was not fit for upper class people, such as myself. So today, I'm armed…with a note from our private dietician – oh yeah, no more hotdog surprise, or any other surprise for that matter for me, nuh-uh today I'm eating food prepared my Franco our new Chef…I think he's Egyptian, or Chinese…you know, from one of those Asian countries…

So I breeze through the Cafeteria only to have Miss-Buffy-Psycho block my path causing me to bump into her, does she have any social graces?

"Excuse you!"

I breathe a sigh of relief as I make my way behind the counter, how close did I come to having the mush they call food all over my designer outfit?

Anyway, so I wave my note in front of one of the Cafeteria workers "Medically prescribed lunch. My doctor ships it daily…I'll only be here as long as I can hold my breath."

Okay, so my doctor doesn't ship it, but what's a white lie when it gets you out of eating mush surprise?

I open the door to the refrigerator and scream.

Oh god! Why do these things always have to happen to me?

Naturally Buffy is attracted by my scream of absolute horror, 'cause she's just weird and I don't presume to know what gets her off about dead bodies.

Speaking of, where the hell is this bodies head?

"His head! His head! Oh, my God, where's his head!"

I think I'm going to barf, or faint, or both…oh god!

I'm severely scarred for life.

Daddy insisted I come to school today, even after I described in gory detail my whole traumatic experience from the day before.

He's heartless and cruel…when he wouldn't agree to the whole staying at home thing, I suggested a day of shopping in L.A. and do you know what he said? Nothing that's what! All of a sudden there was the huge emergency with some client and jail and my experience was suddenly nothing!

Needless to say I was shocked when someone did recognize my pain, even if it came in the form of Principal Flutie, he insisted I see a counselor to help me through my grief.

So that's what I've been doing for the past hour, pouring out my heart…

"I don't know what to say, it was really, I mean, one minute you're in your normal life, and then who's in the fridge? It really gets to you, a thing like that. It was…let's just say I haven't been able to eat a thing since yesterday. I think I lost, like, seven and a half ounces? Way swifter than that so-called diet that quack put me on. Oh, I'm not saying that we should kill a teacher every day just so I can lose weight, I'm just saying when tragedy strikes, we have to look on the bright side. You know?"

I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm a 'the glass is half full, not half empty' kind of person, I look for the good in every situation. Like now, I've been so severely traumatized that I'll be living on sleeping tablets for the next year just to get a nights sleep – but I'm still finding a positive out of it!

"Like, how even used Mercedes still have leather seats!" I explain to the counselor, who looks confused, obviously not all of us see the glass as half full…

Speaking of 'half full' this session is getting me out of Lab time, which is great 'cause dissecting frogs is not something I plan on doing when I leave school.

So needless to say, I'm drawing this out for as long as possible, and then afterwards…mochas ala Franco…