May I Compare Thee to a Summer's Day? Sweaty, Stinky, and Buzzing with Flies

[inthebones]

[action, school]
[As the students file into the classroom and to their desks, they may note that their beloved instructor has a more dour expression on her face than is normal.  ...Actually, it was a little hard to tell given her default expression 90% of the time, but surely that twitching vein is more noticeable than it usually is.

Susan is quiet as the class settles down.  ...After a few moments of silence, she walks to the door and shuts it firmly.  Slightly ominously.  Susan Sto Helit clears her throat.]

Now, then.  It's my pleasure to announce that today marks the beginning of the apparently annual poetry unit also apparently required in this class.

[This is spoken in the same tone as one would announce an untimely death or perhaps that the grocery store was entirely out of gourmet chocolates.]

3:30 this afternoon will mark the end.  Until then, let's all work together to make this as painless as possible.  As the good majority of you likely know, the 'art' of poetry seems to involve deluging your work with as many metaphors, similes, and vague symbolic phrases as possible until it's impossible to tell what you mean apart from that you're fond of roses.  Just work at it until it all wraps around from agonizingly incomprehensible into what can pass for sheer genius if you squint and read from about five kilometers away.

It's a bit like magic if magic involved a fervent desire to set things on fire with your brain.  ...Or, I suppose, exactly like magic.

Right.  Ground rules.

[Susan snaps her fingers and the blackboard flips open to reveal.]

YOUR FAVORITE LETTER
IF YOU CHOOSE TO WRITE HAIKU
WILL SOON BE THE SIXTH

...Actually, that's the only rule.

Alright, get to work.  First five students to write something that doesn't make their classmates feel the urge to give up on English literature forever will receive full marks.  ...Yes, that means you're reciting your work to the class.

[action, grocery store, late afternoon]
[Mother's Day was next week.  ...That meant chocolate displays.
...
...
...
There was nothing wrong with stocking up on chocolates for the rest of the year when they were in greater stock than usual.  A grocery basket half filled with them is certainly nothing unusual.  Even if she is eating one out of the box before she purchased it.  It's been a long day.  ...What do you mean, a personal rule of one a day, how do you even know about that?  Shut up.  Go away.  Mind your own business.  Do I judge you when I come across four bottles of wine in your basket?  

This is not a conversation Susan is having with anyone in particular, but it soon will be if the expression she wears on her face as she chews on a chocolate (nougat, ugh) is at all prophetic.  It's been a very long day.]

Comments

[Grocery Store]

[questionauthority]

Chocolates. Right. I knew something was missing.

[The Riddler appears pushing around a pretty hefty shopping cart of his own, loaded up with plenty of food, drink, and supplies. Peering into Susan's basket of chocolates, he takes two of the boxes and places them into his cart. Because you can't honestly expect him to push that huge thing all the way back to the displays at the front of the store.]

[inthebones]

[Basilisks have nothing on this glare.]

Pardon.

I donate to the less fortunate only when I receive politely worded missives in the mail accompanied with photographs of crying children.

They're up front. There should be at least one box left.

[grocery store]

[strike_you_out]

[At one of the chocolate displays Susan will no doubt pass in her pursuit of sweets, she may spot her monster son filling a pillow case with boxes of assorted chocolates. He's moving quickly and, judging by the grin, appears to have no intention of paying for what he's gathering.

Caught up in the task, Slugger doesn't notice her right away but when he does, his face immediately assumes an expression worn in a poker match as one last box drops into the bag from his motionless hand.

...Susan. What are you doing here?]

[inthebones]

[Please, that's like asking what Pooh Bear is doing with his head in a beehive. Although perhaps Slugger is the one in trouble this time as Susan folds her arms and arches an eyebrow.]

...

[store]

[godcomplexed]

[The Doctor is licking one of the boxes.

Mmm... cardboard...]

[inthebones]

What.

You're -- Why are you -- Everything in this town is specifically designed to -- That's my favorite brand; stop licking; Doctor drool is not a vital part of anyone's diet.

[Grocery Store]

[ukelelenogood]

[Yes. You stock up on chocolates Susan. Enjoy your chance to because in a moment a pink-haired woman is just going to leap out from behind the display, motioning wildly.]

STOP!

[inthebones]

[Susan does not startle. She simply looks bewildered.]

What? No. Why?

[Outside the store]

[hintcoinplz]

[Luke's done his shopping earlier, so now he's out taking Gizmo for a walk. Soon after Susan gets done shopping and leaves the store, Luke will be crouched down next to his robot dog a little ways away with an oil can.]

Hold still, boy. I knew I should've given you some oil before we left...

[inthebones]

[Her whole family decided to go shopping, apparently. Susan blinks at the sight before her.]

Luke?... What is that?

[school, why is it always school]

[commentboxtroll]

That poem is only accurate if your favorite letter is an A.

[Miss S shouldn't be so presumptuous! Someone might really adore the letter R!

And of all the days to pick to actually be in school... poems again. Again! Wasn't he stuck here for this last time, too? That's such a depressing thought, he can hardly bear it. The horror, the repetitive, unbearable, dull horror.]

[because that is caesar's favorite place]

[inthebones]

We already knew your favorite letter, Caesar. Try not to disrupt the rest of the class as they produce unimaginably stellar works of art.

[school]

[flewfromthecage]

[One student in particular spends barely five minutes writing her poem before finishing. Upon doing so, she immediately reads it out loud to the class.

Sorry, guys, Dagger's got this.]

He's not here, and she says no,
They disappear, and I fade slow,
The verses start, hang thick in the air,
I turn to depart, but don't know where.

The song goes on, the words still unclear,
They're not for me, there's no one else here,
No eyes to meet, no hands to reach,
I can only hear imagined speech.

I passed the time, yet never stirred,
My eyes are closed, the clock stays blurred,
The music ends, the sound floats free,
So many words, but none for me.

Minutes kill minutes, the night's overheating,
Second after second of soft, hollow beating,
The comfort's only fleeting,
And I'm too tired to care.

[inthebones]

[Susan squints.]

...Who were you again? How long have you been in this class?

[Where was the class roster when you needed it?]

school

[soulless_soldier]

[Are you serious

OK, you're Susan, of course you are. Ugh. Your semi-literate student spends a lot of time frowning at a blank piece of paper. Eventually, she gets to writing, and hands in her usual work with terrible spelling and bad handwriting. It reads as such:]

When I read poems in class, alot of the
time the lines are
always brokin up all
wierd and they don't ryme
So this is a poem and you
cannot say otherwize

[inthebones]

...

I certainly can. What were the thoughts you were trying to convey through these lines, Miss Barton?

School

[42_passes]

[Oh...poems. Crona wrote a poem, once, when Maka had said it would help.

It made everyone who read it wish they had never been born. Crona had to follow instruction in school, so the kid is going to give it another try.

After working at it for a bit...Crona silently shuffles to the front to hand the page to the teacher, looking HIGHLY uncomfortable with it.

The poem reads as follows:

Racing, rambling thoughts;
running rapidly you'll find.
Delegation doesn't dictate;
this mental state of mind.

Sound, ceremonial satire;
written out of woe.
Etching every memory;
fighting off my foe.

Flighty, fearless conduct;
heroically on a high.
Embracing every weakness;
wordless as to why.

Insomnia intensely active;
innocently I implore.
Exausted, eerie actions;
eyes closing nevermore.

Raging, rancid thoughts;
irritability now in play.
Tearful, sadistic tempest
trying to find my way.

Abusive, angry actions;
meddling done no more.
Bruised, batterred and broken;
still fighting a fruitless war.

After turning it in Crona will attempt to shuffle back to that seat.]



[[OOC: I did not write that poem myself...I was lazy. Credit goes to Stacy Lynn Stiles.]]

[inthebones]

[...Susan wonders, not for the first time, if the school had the budget or the free will to appoint a psychiatrist.]

Very...intense. Excellent use of repetitive sounds to establish a flow.

Could I see you after class?

[school]

[strike_you_out]

[On this day Slugger is conveniently absent from class. However, Susan will find on her desk his "assignment" already turned in.

It isn't a poem nor is it a haiku. It's just a chocolate truffle taped to a piece of paper with Slugger's name penned in at the top and a smiley face.]

[inthebones]

[How sweet. ...Not that he's getting off that easy, of course. When he gets to his room later that night, there will be a smiley face over a piece of paper with oddly spaced lines.

Funny, it looks like they're marking stanzas of a poem. At least there's another chocolate on the desk.]

grocery store

[werejew]

[do you hear it, susan

the ominous sound

of someone hiding in the next aisle

staring

breathing]

[inthebones]

[La di da a young maiden purchases chocolates gracefully as she frolics down the aisle you can practically hear the sound of spring birds twittering as love blossoms in the --

Susan pokes her head straight through an aisle with an expression that would wilt the hardest of libidos.]

I know you're there, Annie.

action;

[encored]

[speaking of having four bottles of wine in a basket, here comes Charles! loading up the wine cabinet again, by the looks of things... not that he'd judge her anyway, considering he was up in a tree with enough cake to throw a party the last time he saw her.]

Is there a sale? [he wants in on it...]

[inthebones]

[JUDGING YOU SO HARD well not really.]

It's some Mayfield holiday again soon. 80% off, though I'm sure they've priced it at 200% its original value.

Don't drink so much. It's not good for the elderly.

School

[jaws5sonofjaws]

[Mart's not too good with words.... but he has seen a lot of movies...

Mart's paper will read this odd little poem.]

Bolted doors and windows barred
Guard dogs prowling in the yard
Won't protect you in your bed
Nothing will from Pumpkinhead

((OOC: Mart's just used the scary poem form the film Pumpkinhead.))

[inthebones]

...Stop.

[Susan bars his path out the door.]

Where did you copy this from?

[School]

[promfromhell]

[Poems....that's ...well she can do that... She's written lots of poems before.

Terrified girl is standing at the front of the class and recites, staring down at her page.]


Can you fix a broken person.
if their spirits almost dead?
Is it possible to forget cruel things
that have already been said?

If you take away their torment
will you find an empty shell?
Can anything be done with it
or is it doomed to Hell?

If you take away the suffering
can hope begin to fill?
And will that hope come crashing down
to make things worsen still?

Can you fix a persons mind
if it's shattered from abuse?
Or will the soul just fly right out
and let the darkness loose.

If the broken person's darkness
is loose upon the land.
Will killing her bring peace to you
do you think He will understand?

Can you fix a broken person,
whose used to lies and hate?
Or maybe you'll ignore them
until it is too late.

[inthebones]

[Psychiatrist, psychiatrist, who was the school psychiatrist? At least she was gaining valuable insight into her students. Something like that, anyway. Susan listens with an increasingly concerned expression before quickly standing up at the conclusion.]

Excellent. A natural grasp of meter and rhythm. Very good, next.

[Susan brushes by Carrie's desk and drops a note.
Stay a bit after class, please.]

[school]

[noluckduck]

[Clover looks about as excited about class as always, but after five minutes or so, she does appear to have just finished scribbling something down on her... her table. Where's her notebook? Anyway, uh, she wrote it down on her table, and it reads as follows:]

Roses are red
That's not funny anymore
If even you hate this crap stuff
Why do we have to do this bore?

Bore rhymes with anymore, that's true
Also I guess violets are blue

[inthebones]

[This was more or less what she'd been expecting. ...She ought to introduce Clover to Barton sometime.]

'Bore' isn't quite used correctly, but I suppose it's an effort.

mayfield high

[nowayhome]

[This was ridiculous, this was all ridiculous, and Nabuca is having no part in it.

Sorry, Susan, he's completely ignoring the instructions and continuing to write little scribbled diagrams about the layout of the town in his notebook. What a bad student.]

[inthebones]

[Clap clap. Ten minutes left. Susan stops the class and announces.]

Right. Recitation time. We'll start with you.

[Naturally, her gaze is fixed on Nabuca.]

[ceasetoexist]

[Hey Susan look who it is. Pokey doesn't tend to attend classes in general, and when he does come to school there doesn't appear to be any rhyme or reason to it. Really, he's only in here because it's one of the classes Slugger came to. Still, he does the assignment.

And it may be a free-form poem but hey. It's better than the shit he tried last year to some degree.]


I remember an old house near the edge of my town
no one remembered who’d built it
no one remembered who’d lived there last
and no one could live in it now
its ceiling was falling in and that’s how everyone remembered it
the floor was cracked and dirty and that’s all anyone knew about it
the windows in the house were broken
and the glass and the stones the kids had thrown
lay on dirty floor never to be picked up

What a waste it is
to be so old
that the way you are
becomes how you always were

[inthebones]

[Hm. ...Susan knows jack-all about poetry, but she can tell when someone was making a good effort.]

I never took you to be especially poetic, Mr. Minch. I suppose you must have accumulated some hobbies over the years.

School

[causesstampedes]

[Simba's made it a habit now to regularly break into the high school and elementary school, so behind a stack of books somewhere in the classroom there is a tiny lion checking things out.

He's not munching on students, nor making a mess of things, he's...actually paying attention?

He's completely lost on the whole poem thing though.]

[inthebones]

[Susan works quietly at her desk as the students mumble and scribble away. Halfway through, she'll glance up and look straight at Simba.]

Did you want a desk, or are you satisfied with the floor?

School

[infourbooks]

[File this under "things they never ask you to do at Hogwarts". Neville is largely staring at his paper and occasionally writing a line. More often crossing one out.]

Mimbulus

The phoenix feather

The silver spheres
In darkened hall
Glimpses of
The future all

[inthebones]

[Susan, of course, glances over his shoulder as she passes.]

'Round about the cauldron go
In the poisoned entrails throw.'

Where did you learn trochaic tetrameter?

[ high school class ]

[vedaandme]

[With the attitude of 'do it and get it over with', Tieria writes something out quickly, but still in that insanely neat handwriting of his.]

When humanity reaches forward,
there will be trials.
To face them, we must be as one,
unified, peaceful, and willing,
working together to create a single race.

Only then can the plan be achieved.

Guide them.
Lead them.
But do not oppress them.

That is our way.

[inthebones]

Something along the lines of free verse, I assume? Who's the audience meant to be?

[Grocery Store]

[uberboned]

[You are not the only chocolate lover, Susan. Gabriel's never had to grocery shop a day in his life AND YET HERE HE IS. Grocery shopping. Or rather being generally useless in this department.

But hey, pretty girl with a fondness for chocolate. Go team.] Gotta love a girl with a healthy appetite.

[inthebones]

[Gabriel earns himself a scathing glare.]

'Got to' love a man with less tact than my 'husband'.

Grocery

[fthisgetmecigs]

[Badou is just doing a quick look at inventory around the store, minding his own business when he sees Susan. Eating what appears to be unpaid for chocolates. You try to keep things laid back and this is what happens, jesus. He's is just going to stop what he's doing for a moment and cross his arms looking like some irritated, smoking bean pole. See this grocers apron he's wearing? This means business.]

First off, lady. Y'gotta pay for that shit before ya eat it.

[inthebones]

Is that so?

How peculiar. You'd almost think this store exists in a world that has an economy rather than in a fiscal vacuum where customers go through the motions of utilizing an exchange medium consisting of meaningless little bits of paper.

Grocery Store

[grumpiest_tree]

[Groot, in an one of those aprons that signify he works at the store pauses from stocking chocolate at the other end of the aisle to address Susan sideways, almost nonchalantly.]

While I'm not a stickler about rules, that box of chocolate sounds almost empty and I hope you do plan to pay for it before you throw it away.

[inthebones]

No.

I'm planning to sneak out surreptitiously without paying the two dollars, which is why I'm parading down every aisle openly chomping in as undignified a manner as I allow myself to stoop to.