AN: So I rewatched the film and I know a bunch of shit isn't in order so ill try 2 fix it mayb the way im writing this not is deterior8ing in 2 bs sooo dont hold me 2 dat. Also I found that Sergeant Neff's first name is danyul but i fink sergeant is a better first name anywais

Richard thorn's car pulled up outside 'The Thorn Blog' building, the most populour blog on Tumblr. And with all the staff manning it, there was no surprise the blog was so popular. They received hundreds of asks, submissions, and fanmail hourly. Since Bill had left his post, or died (it was hard to tell), a replace called Paul Buher had stepped in.

Apparently Paul had a habit of being a cunt and ignoring asks because he didn't want to fuck with the post limit. He was almost as much of a dick as fucking JOHN FROM FUCKING ACCOUNTING WHAT A PIECE SHIT HE IS.

Paul, a guy with an impressive moustache, another mustached guy, and Richard drove a mini swagmobile around the marijuana plant. In order to make better quality posts, Paul had decided that the bloggers should start smoking cannabis. The impressively mustached guy took a sprig of the cannabis to see how good it was. If he were to rate it on a level of 1-10 it would be a firm 5 and a half.

"Is it growing cannabis illegal?" asked Richard.

"Yes but it's the 70's so it's totally fine!"

"Sir dere is a fon cal fo yo," someone called to Richard. It may have been an intern called Brett, they were unsure.

"I'm fucking busy rn!"

"But it's important!"

Richard relented and decided to answer the phone. Paul took some of the weed so he could smoke it later. Richard returned with a grave look on his face.

"Marion just died of a drug overdose, or a crazy straw overdose."

"Well, all this cannabis here is totally insensitive so we should just burn it!"

"Wouldn't that just make everyone high?" asked the man with the impressive moustache.

"What? No, defo not! That would not even happen, like ever! Come on guys that's just plain silly," Paul laughed, hoping they would take the bait.

Meanwhile...

Sergeant Neff sat at his desk and he was really happy to finally be alone with the object of his affections.

"Is there any point to this? You've been staring at me for five hours," Damien said.

Sergeant Neff turned around, taking a deep breath.

"Yes, there's a point to this."

"Which is?"

"I lo- I loudly think you should be the school quarterback."

"I didn't try out!"

"We're both orphans!"

"WTF?"

"We have something in common."

"Okay..."

"So... uh... yeah, do you want to be quarterback?"

"Not really."

"Well you're going to be and you're going to be amazing at it."

"...Okay. Can I leave now?"

Sergeant Neff nodded. He then cried a bit. How could he fail so dramatically? No matter there was always next time. But for now he would reconcile with 666 copies of call me maybe and 'Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream'.

Also FUCKING MEANWHILE...

"Holy shit we're in a museum," said Ann. Charles nodded. He was the curator of the Thorn Museum which was dedicated to all the best Tumblr posts The Thorn Blog had ever posted. They had set aside some room for a new exhibition about Charles' recent excavation in Arabia. It was going to be about some cray-cray religious shizniz. Ann didn't approve but decided not to say anything.

She knew that if the Thorn Blog got too religious then they would lose followers and then they would lose money.

"Oh yeah, here's that photo of a ten headed dragon that you hated!"

"Eugh!"

"Hi bitches, I am not a pimp," a strange English voice called. It was a big floating red coat. Ann rolled her eyes, large red coats could be so rude sometimes.

"OMG! big bird why did you die yourself red?" Chares cried.

"I'm not big bird you fucking idiot, I'm Joan Hart!"

"Oh," said Ann and Charles in unison. That made a lot more sense.

"Yeah and I've got a cracking tale to tell. I swaggered up to Richard Thorn and at first he wouldn't let me in his car because he didn't want people to think he was talking to a pimp. Then he let me in and I told him his nephew is all fucked up and evil and he kicked me out. What a douchebag!"

"Joan, that was only something John from accounting would do," cried Ann ANN-grily (AN: PFFT).

"Yeah, you can't say things if you don't know for sure."

"I do kno-" Catching a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror Joan realised she had to change her clothes. Her coat was truly awful! She stormed out of the museum and straight to her car.

AN: short chapter i kno but im like recovering from sickness atm and i got shit to do such as fake diary pages for my session w/ my psyhcologist