Anger Management
Oct. 17th, 2003 11:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amfiguree[Gen] [Students] [R, for a *lot* of cussing. A lot]
Anger Management
Author’s Note: Probably one of the most vulgar stories I’ve ever written.
She growled, and everyone around her backed away in alarm. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
“Yeah, I think we got that bit,” Jesse broke through the stunned crowd, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Fuck who?”
“Her.” Another angry growl. “Fuck her. Fuck her fuck her fuck her.”
“What did she do *now*?”
“I taught at SCGS… yadayadayada… I know they’re capable, and so are you! You’re just too playful! Boring boring boring… Is this school only capable of producing talent in the drama field?!” she paused, and Jesse knew she was positively seething. “If I could get my hands on her neck… urr!”
She throttled the air, more than a little ruffled. “How *dare* she? What kind of a fucking teacher is she anyway? Who cares if you’re a fucking doctor? Or lawyer? How dare she make the arts field sound like a fucking exit for the science-retarded students? What the fuck does she think she is?! We go to school to experience growing up! And if we get good grades along the way, great! But that’s not what school is about, dammit! It’s about learning more about what we love! What is it to her what we turn out to be, anyway? I want to act, and fucking hell, I will! If anyone else puts down that profession, I’ll…” she drew in a deep breath, “It takes as much fucking skill as being a fucking chemist does. Fucking bitch.”
Her voice had grown steadily louder, though Jesse made no move to quiet her anger – or her passion.
She dropped to the ground, tears of fury almost spilling over her cheeks. “I’m not going to slog to get distinctions for subjects that are useless in real life! I know what I want to do with my life, Jesse, and I’m going to do it! I don’t fucking care what anyone says, but how dare she insult a job she has no fucking clue about?!”
Jesse squeezed her shoulder soothingly, as she continued, “I’m glad we have fun at school. We’re the only school who’s teaching the right way. She obviously doesn’t understand the word ‘fun’. Fucking carnival, my ass.”
Jesse laughed, then, knowing her fury had cooled somewhat. “Feel better?”
She smiled as the whole field erupted into cheers at her speech, and shrugged. “Maybe. But I still say she’s fucking clueless.”
Jesse winked, “When you get to Hollywood, send her a postcard. And remember to rub your personal Jacuzzi in her face.”
She grinned, “And she can keep her damn accomplishments. No one notices anything about her besides the way her pants are hitched so high she doesn’t need to wear bras anyway.”
-fin-
Anger Management
Author’s Note: Probably one of the most vulgar stories I’ve ever written.
She growled, and everyone around her backed away in alarm. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
“Yeah, I think we got that bit,” Jesse broke through the stunned crowd, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Fuck who?”
“Her.” Another angry growl. “Fuck her. Fuck her fuck her fuck her.”
“What did she do *now*?”
“I taught at SCGS… yadayadayada… I know they’re capable, and so are you! You’re just too playful! Boring boring boring… Is this school only capable of producing talent in the drama field?!” she paused, and Jesse knew she was positively seething. “If I could get my hands on her neck… urr!”
She throttled the air, more than a little ruffled. “How *dare* she? What kind of a fucking teacher is she anyway? Who cares if you’re a fucking doctor? Or lawyer? How dare she make the arts field sound like a fucking exit for the science-retarded students? What the fuck does she think she is?! We go to school to experience growing up! And if we get good grades along the way, great! But that’s not what school is about, dammit! It’s about learning more about what we love! What is it to her what we turn out to be, anyway? I want to act, and fucking hell, I will! If anyone else puts down that profession, I’ll…” she drew in a deep breath, “It takes as much fucking skill as being a fucking chemist does. Fucking bitch.”
Her voice had grown steadily louder, though Jesse made no move to quiet her anger – or her passion.
She dropped to the ground, tears of fury almost spilling over her cheeks. “I’m not going to slog to get distinctions for subjects that are useless in real life! I know what I want to do with my life, Jesse, and I’m going to do it! I don’t fucking care what anyone says, but how dare she insult a job she has no fucking clue about?!”
Jesse squeezed her shoulder soothingly, as she continued, “I’m glad we have fun at school. We’re the only school who’s teaching the right way. She obviously doesn’t understand the word ‘fun’. Fucking carnival, my ass.”
Jesse laughed, then, knowing her fury had cooled somewhat. “Feel better?”
She smiled as the whole field erupted into cheers at her speech, and shrugged. “Maybe. But I still say she’s fucking clueless.”
Jesse winked, “When you get to Hollywood, send her a postcard. And remember to rub your personal Jacuzzi in her face.”
She grinned, “And she can keep her damn accomplishments. No one notices anything about her besides the way her pants are hitched so high she doesn’t need to wear bras anyway.”
-fin-
