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Post by Hermes on Jun 18, 2009 9:15:37 GMT -5
My reactions to this went as follows:
'Oh, that's nice - she's got the boring business letter wrting teacher from TBL.
- But surely TBL isn't in the continuity for this story, because Olaf...
-Oh, wait...
-Oh, BRILLIANT!'
I love it when people are able to bring off something like this. If only Daniel Handler had you to help him!
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Post by Jenny on Jun 18, 2009 9:50:17 GMT -5
Another great chapter--you truly are quite talented at working in all these little references from the books Also, I find it amusing that Olaf's reputation preceeds him in such a way I am also enjoying the frequent lovely updates
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Jun 18, 2009 10:03:42 GMT -5
I read TBL some time ago, and so I've forgotten most of it. Regardless, this was another wonderful chapter, and I loved how Mr. Mullens accused Olaf of "stealing" his students.
Also, the part where business letter-writing class made Olaf want to shoot himself made me LOL. ;D
*waits patiently (and eagerly) for the next update*
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Post by melon head. on Jun 24, 2009 22:45:36 GMT -5
Hermes: Haha, that's the reaction I was hoping for. I did have to check TBL about six times when writing that chapter ("Wait, how tall was he? How flat were his feet?"). Jenny: Thank you! I get a bit OCD when it comes to attention to detail, thus a gross amount of book references will be visible in most of my fan fics. Emma: Glad you liked the Olaf-self-harm moment. See? He does have some violent intentions, sarcasm or no sarcasm. .___. {O,o} /)__) -"-"-
It's been three whole days and I'm finally settling in. (You can't tell, but that was very sarcastic.) The teachers all adore me, and throughout the typical lunchtime conversation hang off my every word. I thank the students for this- they all like and respect me enough to praise me in front of my colleagues. Even the "Theatre Veterans" seem to have decided that I'm not a total waste of theatrical space. The girl I was telling you about- the one who's excellent at drama- is named Beatrice, and after two lessons, she's shaping up to be quite the performer. The only problem is the pay- it's terrible. That's what happens when you work at a school run by volunteers. Maybe I could take up teaching out of school- like a Saturday drama class? I can definitely see a few students attending that. The Duchess of Winnipeg's daughter is named something too difficult to pronounce- she insists we call her R. She's friends with young Beatrice, and she, too, is quite a good actress. "You girls should audition for the school production," I said to them as class was finishing. "I know it's not for another month or so, but I'd like to be ahead of schedule." "Will you be directing?" Beatrice asked skeptically. When I said yes, she beamed. "We'll be there with bells on," R said happily. "Hey, I have a friend who could help out backstage. She's good with lights and stuff. Should I bring her along?" "Ask me closer to the day in question," I said, and bid them goodbye.
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Jun 25, 2009 12:22:31 GMT -5
Awww. Olaf is popular. ;D
Excellent chapter, btw. I especially love that you've introduced R, as I really enjoyed your portrayal of her in A Tale of Three Friends. I'm really looking forward to seeing what you do with her and Beatrice, as well as the other characters.
And I'm guessing that the stagehand R mentioned is going to be Kit? I guess we'll have to wait and see!
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Post by Jenny on Jun 25, 2009 12:33:59 GMT -5
I of course love that Olaf is already thinking about holding his drama classes And I'm also looking forward to finding more out about R and Beatrice and the school production. BRING ON THE KIT *hopes so that she isn't too embarrassed that it is Kit*
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Post by melon head. on Jul 21, 2009 4:18:18 GMT -5
Sorry for the lack of updates. Went to Western Australia for three weeks and there is a a sever lack of broadband over there. Anyway... I did mean Kit, you clever clogs. Unfortunately, the K-Meister won't be making an appearance for at least another month (I’m on strict Olaf time here, BTW). In the meantime, let's meet some of the other splendid characters in the ASOUE world. It’s an emotional roller coaster for Olaf, isn’t it? I’m not exactly making life easy for him. But he charges through it using brackets! No joke, there are way too many brackets in this chapter. Also, this is a longish chapter. I may post it in two halves. .___. {O,o} /)__) -"-"-
After a week I feel like I’ve lived here my whole life. This school is family to me- minus one person, who makes my life that little bit miserable. Do you know how tedious it is to be sitting in the staff room, listening to Mr Mullens drone on and on and on about how, "it doesn't matter about the content; just read the first few lines of every paragraph and judge the letter the student’s written by that."? He looked at me sharply and I quickly feigned interest. My expression faded back into suicidal as he launched into another rant about grammar and how it has drastically affected the human race. Which I find ironic because he himself cannot muster up a sentence that uses correct grammar. He says “The students agree with the other teachers and I”, when he really should be saying “with the other teachers and me”. I have too much time on my hands. The lunch bell ringing was like the sound of angels. I excused myself from Mr Mullens (God bless lunchtime duty) and dashed out of the staff room. It was a beautiful day today- gorgeous blue sky, warm air, sun shining, the full clichéd experience. The halls I was meant to patrol were deserted, so I abandoned all responsibility and wandered outside to the common walk. “Mr O!” cried a voice. “Over here!” There they were, my favorite people in the world, scattered across the grass happily. There was R (Who had drained the last of her energy calling out my name and thus kept dozing off in the sun), the Denouement twins (I still can’t figure out who’s Ernest and who’s Frank), Bertrand (Another talented student of mine), Olivia (A younger student who’s great with accents), and an assortment of other students who I knew only by appearance. Obviously this group was the biggest, greatest, most powerful group in the school. “This is Joseph Quagmire and Mary Gray,” Bertrand informed me, waving his hand in the direction of two teenagers leaning back to back. I smiled at the pair, silently scrutinizing them. Joseph looked close to the same age as Bertrand, with short black hair and a very bookish attire. He looked as though he rarely stepped outside, with freakishly pale skin and very long limbs. He was, despite this, only slightly taller than the average male. He was relatively good looking but his face was masked behind thick, black- rimmed glasses. The girl he was leaning against had a mane of curly hair; brown with subtle traces of red. She had an enormous smile plastered on her face, thus baring her huge front teeth. I smiled back, but froze suddenly- I had just noticed that she had, quite possibly, the biggest breasts in the universe. Clearing my throat, I looked away awkwardly.
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Post by melon head. on Jul 21, 2009 4:20:05 GMT -5
“Sit,mi profesor preferido en el mundo,” R slapped her palm down on the grass next to her. She rolled over on to her stomach, scanning the court yard, until she found what she was looking for. She waved her hand up, crying, “Beatrice! Venido siéntese abajo, usted!”
Beatrice waved back, beaming. She was dragging behind her a very tall, very handsome young man who I knew as Jacques’ brother. He was wearing a beige fedora that was tilted to cover one of his eyes, and was very well-dressed. He and Beatrice sat down, both grinning.
“Ah, R. Quand apprendrez-vous que je ne parle pas espagnol?” Beatrice laughed. I felt ever so slightly disappointed in myself for never paying attention in any of the languages I did whilst at school. Sure, I could piece together a rather pathetic sentence in French, Japanese, Italian or German if necessary, but only to alert people of a crisis. Here were a group of extremely talented people who could speak fluently in at least seven other languages each.
“Hello,” said Beatrice’s friend, extending hand. “I’m Lemony. I don’t think we’ve met. Are you new?”
I took Lemony’s hand, liking him. “I’m the new drama teacher,” I said.
Lemony’s eyebrows shot up. “Ah! You’re the hallowed Mr. O. I can hear you guys whenever I have business letter-writing class.” You poor thing. “Sorry if you get this all the time, but you look far too young to be a teacher.”
I shrugged. We sat in the warm sun, and I managed to pick up slices of different conversations. R and Beatrice were agreeing to be partners on some cave exploration excursion that was coming up. Mary and Miranda were discussing ballet, which appeared to be their favorite after-school activity. Joseph, Bertrand and Jacques were reading aloud their new favorite book, a Russian graphic novel I couldn’t decipher.
But what kept throwing me off was a confusing figure named Kit. Kit was constantly coming up in conversation, but so much remained a mystery- is this Kit male or female? How old are they? When I asked where this person was, everyone groaned and glared at Bertrand. Kit, according to R, was absent this lunchtime because he/she was in detention. Apparently he/she had been taking the fall for Bertrand, who had left a mark on the floor with his cigarette butt.
“You’ll be impressed to know that I haven’t smoked since,” Bertrand boasted.
“Of course you haven’t,” Beatrice scoffed, “it was half an hour ago.”
I laughed as the bell went. We all stood up hand scattered in different directions, and though everyone looked happy, no one could have been as happy as me.
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Post by Jenny on Jul 21, 2009 8:51:50 GMT -5
Hello! *waves* And I officially love the fact that Olaf is sort of half-teacher half-student, with the way he's friends with all the pupils and none of the teachers. Aww This is a lovely little Olaf!fic, and I don't mind when we finally get to meet Kit--it's very interesting to be meeting everyone we know in the books in these schoolkid versions
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Jul 21, 2009 10:23:43 GMT -5
May, that was absolutely fantastic! It's sweet how Olaf is more social with the students than he is with the teachers-- probably because he so much closer to his students' ages. And you've named the Quagmires' father Joseph! That's the name of Esme's father, too! I've always, always pictured Duncan and Isadora being "freakishly pale" as well, so I wasn't surprised when you described Joseph as such. This was such a great chapter, and well worth the wait it took you to post it. Also, I hope you enjoyed your stay in Western Australia.
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Post by Hermes on Jul 21, 2009 11:18:34 GMT -5
Welcome back, May!
This is still wonderful - it's great to get these insights into the early lives of the characters. I am wondering a bit how we can get from this Olaf to the one we know, but I'm sure this will be revealed.
I'm guessing Mary is the Quagmires' mother. So, she had big breasts, did she?
Is the Russian graphic novel meant to be anything in particular?
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Post by melon head. on Jul 26, 2009 6:27:11 GMT -5
Hi, everyone! *Waves back* Thank you for the kind words. I had a great time in WA, Emma, thanks for asking. And I named Joseph and Mary, not after the famous Bible couple, but after Isadora Duncan's parents. I'd totally forgotten Esme's dad was called Joseph! I hope that's okay. The graphic novel was just a space-filler. No reference was intentionally made... I think. In other news: here's another chapter! Yay! Gosh, mini!chapters are so easy to write. Plus, before I started, I mapped out a rough plan of how I would go about writing the story, so it's not like Heart-Shaped Balloon (Those who read it would recall that I had no idea what was going on half the time). Anyway, here we go. Enjoy. .___. {O,o} /)__) -"-"-
How is it that less than three hours ago, I was king of the world, and I've now somehow managed to topple right off of my throne and into the goddamn dirt? I mean, I shouldn't care what that Snicket kid thinks of me anyway, and yet I can't help but feel upset by his words. You know how it is, that endless cycle of grief... "Isn't Mr. O just the greatest?" My ears perked up as I heard Beatrice's voice echo from inside a classroom I happened to be walking by. I grinned and leaned against the wall beside door, remaining within earshot but out of site. "He's brilliant," came the familiar voice of R. "So funny, kind, smart-" "Not to mention handsome." Both girls groaned in unison, and a third voice cried out, "I beg your pardon?!" "Relax, Lemony," Beatrice said, sounding ever so patronising towards her boyfriend. "I still love you." "Yeah, she's allowed to think other people besides yourself are ridiculously good-looking." She giggled and let out another soft groan. "Don't you just want to, I don't know, bite his chin?" "I know!" Beatrice shrieked, laughing. "Or, say, poke out his eyes and wear them as jewellery?" "Aside from the fact that you're both sounding slightly maniacal," Lemony said, clearing his throat, "I think I should remind you that that teacher is a complete slime ball. He's clearly some kind of pathetic, lonely old man, too deprived of a childhood to ever move on, and thus has to take it out on innocent children who he'll probably end up scarring for life-" "Would you shut it?" Beatrice sounded suddenly angry, and I felt a great gush of respect towards her for standing up for me. "He's an amazing man, you said so yourself no less than ten minutes ago. You've only changed your views because you're jealous, you arrogant toad!" I heard her collect her books and storm towards the door. I hurriedly scuttled as far away from the classroom as possible, but as it turned out, Beatrice went the other way, and seemed to angry to notice me out of the corner of her eye. "You shouldn't have said anything," R said knowingly. "I maintain my opinions," Lemony said, clearly trying to sound nonchalant. I heard R make a disgusted noise and storm out of the room after her friend. Lemony's words stuck with me all afternoon, and I wondered how many other students think of me like that. Am I kidding myself, hanging around with people so different to me in age? Do people judge me for it? And good God, why is it that when I come to this school I suddenly become attractive?
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Jul 26, 2009 10:18:08 GMT -5
!!!!!!!!!! I seriously just adored this. Beyond words. Beatrice and R's fangirl-ing over Olaf was adorable in a really weird way. And Lemony's reaction ( "I beg your pardon?!") when Beatrice mentioned how handsome Olaf was was just the cutest. I'm especially enjoying your portrayal of Lemony in this. I loved the way you wrote him in A Tale of Three Friends, and it's great to see you continuing on with that version of him here. I feel sorry for Olaf here: I've never imagined him (and I know I speak for Jenny, too, when I say this) to have the best childhood, so I can see why he'd be socializing with the students rather than other teachers. Isadora Duncan! It was very clever of you to name the Quagmire parents after her own, and I don't mind at all if you use the name "Joseph". It was also the name of my own father, so that's why I chose it for Esme's.
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Post by melon head. on Jul 27, 2009 3:49:07 GMT -5
Thank you, Emma. I love writing Lemony- especially when he chucks a hissy fit. *Grins* .___. {O,o} /)__) -"-"-
It's been three days since The Incident, and I still haven't recovered. I sat at my desk, pretending to take notes while my class of veterans took it in turns to perform monologues. Currently performing was Esme Somethingorother (I can't read her last name when I call attendance because the ink ran and dried on the paper, but we've also known each other for too much time for me to ask her what it is). Esme seems to know little or no plays from which to take a monologue, and up till today's lesson had simply made up her own. However, I rather forcefully insist that she read from the play The School for Scandal. " A fixt antipathy to young and fair; by cunning, cautious; or by nature, cold-" I heard muttering emit from the back of the drama studio. My head shot up and I noticed two boys, their heads together, writing on a large notepad. " In maiden madness, virulently bold! Attend! Ye skilled to coin the precious tale-" I watched them for a second, both laughing quietly as they scribbled crudely-written words that I could not read on to the paper. " Creating proof, where innuendos fail! Whose practised memories, cruelly exact, omit no circumstance, except the fact!" I did not realise that I'd stood- the class watched me, all except for Esme, who was straining to remember the next lines, and the two boys, who were too deep in conversation. " Attend, all ye who boast,--or old or young, the living libel of a slanderous tongue!" I edged towards to the boys, who were now ripping the pages out of their notepad. The bell rang, thunderously loud, and they shot up, leaving behind their loose paper. The rest of the class followed, minus Esme, who was completing her verse. I walked over to where the boys had sat and picked up the paper. On it was written a collection of obscene anagrams. " So shall my theme as far contrasted be, as saints by fiends, or hymns by calumny." A school for scandal indeed.
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Post by Jenny on Jul 27, 2009 9:51:47 GMT -5
You're so awesome. Well done Esmé for at least remembering that part of it correctly I say!
And hehe, obscene anagrams--of what? It's such a note-passing-typical-boy thing ;D
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