The office assistant lady who was overweight and bore a distinct resemblance to a bulldog as well as constantly slandering and spreading rumours about students and parents somehow was able to keep her job for yet another year at the corrupted collegiate high school.
Mrs. Bulldog wakes up sweating and tangled in her favourite sheets covered in crowns and "Princess" written in Century Gothic. She isn't sweating or tangled up in her Princess sheets because she had a nightmare, she's simply fat and has a hard time digesting all the food she shovels down at 8:30 PM before she goes to sleep. She sits up in her king sized bed and attempts to detangle herself from the sheets, an ordeal that can last anywhere from five to ten minutes. Occasionally getting detangled can be described as violent, and can end with Mrs. Bulldog being hurled to the floor. She doesn't mind being hurled to the floor because it saves her the energy it takes to get off of her bed. She needs to conserve all her energy in case she has to get up from her office chair or look away from the computer screen or answer the phone or something involving the indolent kids or other staff at the school, they don't do nearly as much work as she does.
As soon as she is out of bed she puts her contacts in. Every once in a while she will have icing on her fingers so she has to wash them before she can apply the contact lenses. Eating while sleepwalking is a serious disorder but there are no known cures so Mrs. Bulldog endures her curse. The worst part about it is that she won't ever recall how delicious the sweets she ate were. Every night is a living hell for Mrs. Bulldog and every morning she has to live with the consequences of her actions.
Once her vision has been restored she presses the "play" button on her Hello Kitty CD player and Britney Spear's hit "Lucky" plays on repeat while she showers and strives to apply her make up as a professional would and picks out an outfit that will accentuate her figure in the most flattering way possible. She reaches into her jewelery box and pulls out whatever she finds because all of it is glamourous, would Mrs. Bulldog own anything that isn't glamourous? Heck no.
"Missy, you had best be ready to go now, I need to stop at Chick-Fil-A and Subway on the way to school. Do you want me to starve to death, Jesus Christ!" Mrs. Bulldog bellows at the top of her lungs. Socially confused Missy stumbles out of her room with her buttcrack showing like usual.
"Um... Um... Can I uh... Get something to eat too?" She mumbles shyly and pushes her glasses back up the bridge of her nose.
"Money doesn't grow on trees, Missy. Besides, you can get school lunch. I'm allergic to that, I think," Mrs. Bulldog barks back.
Missy has to sit in the backseat of the car because Mrs. Bulldog needs the passenger seat for her expansive bag that is too large to be categorised as a purse.
They leave their house at four in the morning because the idiots working at Subway and Chick-Fil-A always get her order wrong, except the times that they don't. Before they can get to the school Mrs. Bulldog spends fifteen minutes arguing with herself about whether or not to go to Starbucks (she always ends up going anyway).
Finally they pull into the school's parking lot at 6:32 AM. They're a few minutes late, but it's obviously Missy's fault, not Mrs. Bulldog's, so she won't get in trouble. It's no big deal anyway, the school couldn't fire her because she is irreplaceable and they couldn't function without her. She was glamourous, irreplaceable, and most of all, a genius.