Living History [Closed]

[Morgan Tonaya]

Morgan wouldn’t say he wasn’t nervous, but he was bound to admit way before he admitted to nerves that he was excited! Almost Giddy, Morgan clapped his hands together and rubbed them rapidly, chewing his cheek to try and discover what to do first. He’d already wasted the majority of the day just scuttling around the halls of Hammel, peering in windows and snooping in empty rooms. It was so exciting to be back in the school! He was shocked at how it seemed so familiar, given the near-decade he’d spent away, but he suppose if people like Dr. Neville were still around it was likely that Hammel hadn’t changed much. Not that Dr. Neville was backwards or anything…Hammel just had staying power!

Chipper as he always was, Morgan had finally made his way into his own classroom only ten minutes or so before class started. Thankfully there were no teacher’s pets there to stare at him expectantly. He picked up the chalk and scrawled his name in block, bold letters across the board.

“MORGAN TONAYA.” It nearly covered the entire board. Off to the side, slanted slightly and barely visible to read were the words to describe the class “Ancient through Early History.” Morgan figured the kids didn’t really care what they would be learning, particularly if it had the word “history” in it. He had already decided they wouldn’t be learning too much today anyway. It was only his first day! Morgan wanted to spend the class learning names, learning preconceptions, and trying to break down barriers between his students and himself. There were bound to be some.

There was always the class clown. A slacker. A stoner. Someone like that or (God forbid) all three. Morgan shuddered as he leaned on the corner of his desk, sticking his tongue out in a disgusted expression. He didn’t think he could handle more than one trouble student. He was still new to teaching high schoolers. Teaching college was vastly easier: if the kid didn’t want to be in class, he or she wouldn’t come to class! If the kid fell asleep? Morgan would just kindly tell them to go take a nap and be ready for the exam. It hinged a lot more on the student than did high school instructing. Here? Morgan was responsible for keeping his students engaged and on task.
The first step to that was, in Morgan’s brain, making them like him at least a little bit. They’d be more inclined to listen if they found him pleasant. The next step? Make history interesting! God knew that Morgan nearly tanked the course when he studied at Hammel, being so bored.

His dusty-green eyes watched the door keenly, hoping that some bright-eyed freshman would come in to boost his confidence. Morgan let out a soft sigh and ruffled his hand through his curly blonde hair as the bell rang, signaling the five-minute mark to get to class. “Here goes nothing!” he murmured to himself, reaching over and idling readjusting a miniscule army of Hal Jordan action figures. There were five in total, in varying sizes and poses, the largest of which was a six inch figure of Hal in the Parallax costume (a figure which he was particularly proud of). The other figures were adjusted in various heroic poses, clearly illustrating that Morgan was a bit of a kid himself, even after all these years.

[Samuel Rixon]

Samuel Rixon’s mornings at Hammel Institute usually went as follows:

Alarm clock goes off. It is quickly slapped off and ignored.

His best friend, Ember, is then at his door, knocking and telling him to get his ass out of bed. ... She, too, is ignored.

It isn’t until his classes are about five minutes away (as in, hello, warning bell), that he actually thinks seriously about getting out of bed. Sometimes, he made the effort to get up earlier, and thought about his look for the day. But most days, getting dressed and ready for class was a whirlwind of clumsy teenager pulling on whatever was currently handy. That... wasn’t always his own things. Ember’s clothes often ended up in his room, whether they got mixed up with his own laundry, or it was just... there. For reasons he can brag about later.

At least he had an excuse for his sloth like movement today. He’d looked at his schedule. History. All History meant to him was extended naptime. It was a class he’d often attended still in his pyjama pants. He’d often thought about bringing a pillow. Quite often, the hoodie he carried around for warmth sufficed quite nicely. Who cared when Hitler ruled the world, or when America first went to the moon? Not him. He cared more about video games, sex, and booze than History. If he wasn’t sleeping, he was shouting out ridiculous answers. But those days were usually after he’d taken a hit or two from a joint. History was a lot more interesting with a little something in his system.

At least he was dressed now. Granted, his jeans were nearing the end of their life (his mother had told him to throw them out last time he’d been home... four months ago now), and his t-shirt was inside out and wrinkled as all get out. But he was dressed. He just wasn’t looking forward to class. It showed as he moved through the hallways. Yes, the warning bell had gone, but he just managed to toe himself into the classroom before the final bell rang.

... New teacher. Great. That meant that he probably wouldn’t be allowed to sleep. At least until Sam was able to prove the point that trying to teach him anything was completely pointless. So he just shuffled by the desk, his full intentions to curl up in the corner desk and sleep. But something caught his attention. Now, he knew comic books, yes. Maybe not a huge selection of them. He had his favourites. But he knew the Green Lantern. “Dude! Fuckin’ sweet!” And, in a classic ‘act before you think’ movement, the pyro picked up the six inch figure and grinned. He’s got very little regard for other people’s property. Which showed, as he began to mess with the pose. No, he didn’t look at Morgan and apologize, or even belatedly ask permission to play with it. He just kept fiddling with the pose. ... Unfortunately, when he finally stopped, the poor figure had his hand resting on his crotch, and the other pumped up in the air. Then he put it back on his desk and flashed a little grin. “Hey. So... like... last semester I slept all class. So... I don’t know anything ‘bout History ‘n junk. ... ‘Cept that Nazis were big fuckin’ jerks.”

... Teenage boys. What can you do with them?

[Vincent Verax]

Vincent did not sleep last night.

Why not?

It was movie night. This entailed him staying up all night watching Pirates of the Carribean, Transformers, Resident Evil, and Spiderman. It also filled his mind with the notion that maybe Emaleth might have radioactive powers and he spent about a half hour trying to get her to bite him. (A couple years ago, she would have done so without thinking about it, now she just didn't care enough to bite.) Unfortunately, this meant that his over-tired brain would be even more spastic than normal, as it always was when he didn't get enough sleep and he was trying to keep himself awake by being even more loud and obnoxious than usual. Morgan, you have my sympathy.

Though Ema didn't bite him last night, it didn't stop him from putting on his best spiderman impression and what was a better way to show off his spider-skills than by creating a grand entrance to class? He wouldn't have bothered to show up on any other day, but he'd discovered just last week he'd be having this class with Sammy and if anyone would appreciate his spider powers, it would be Sam. Entering a classroom through the door? Hell no, that was totally overrated. Through the window? That was how the cool people did it.

So he'd shimmied up the side of the school (this was, unsurprisingly, not the first time he'd climbed up the face off the school, although it was generally followed by him jumping off to whatever injury awaited him upon collision with the ground) until he found the proper window to the classroom and popped his head inside. "Sup?" He said with a grin as he tumbled in from the window, performing a lazy sort of somersault once inside. Using a desk to help himself up, he turned to look at the teacher he didn't recognize, to the name on the board, then to Sammy and a big grin spread on his face. "Guess what, Charmander? 'm fuckin SPIDERMAN!" Bounding over the desk, he moved closer to the front of the classroom, grinning at the new teacher. "Hey there, 'cha got toys on ya desk f'? W'gunna PLAY?"

His eyes lighted on the figure that Sam had posed and he smirked, creating his own version of the pose by grabbing his crotch and sticking his middle finger up in the air. Shocked? Don't be. This is tame. "Hell yeah!" He then elbowed Sammy in the side, then looked on the name on the board once again. "S'ya... Morgan... To... Ton... Toenail, eh? Yeah, Mr. Toenail. Y'new, righ', s'ya know how fuckin' lucky y'are t'have me AN' Dickface here in class wit ya?" Lucky was not the word for these circumstances. No, it wasn't even remotely close.

[Morgan Tonaya]

Shortly after the bell, Morgan’s worst nightmare walked right in. Morgan noticed immediately the boy’s disheveled appearance--not just the ratty jeans, but the fact that his shirt was on inside out--and almost pouted in dismay. While he hated to stereotype, there was only one thing that could mean. Sam’s lack of rushed breathing or apologetic looks meant that he was shaving close to lateness without a care in the world. In other words: a slacker. And it was the first class of the day. Morgan knew he was going to have trouble. It was going to be a long first class.

It was going to exceptionally long now that this new student had suddenly animated and snatched Parallax right out of his hand. Looking both surprised and heinously wronged, Morgan burst out with “Hey that’s---!” He trailed off and shook his head as he realized he wasn’t going to be listened to. “…why I shouldn’t keep my figures on my desk.” Morgan added under his breath, shaking his head and smiling. Could he blame the kid? There were TOYS!

He looked down at the pose Sam had decided on and frowned deeply. That was not right. NOT RIGHT at all. “That’s completely in--Wait. How on earth did you get him to do that. I didn’t think his arms turned that way…” Morgan added with a measure of…was that admiration? He picked up the figure and examined it, chuckling slightly. Immature, rude, and totally inappropriate, but he figured he’d leave it for now. “Maybe I’ll leave him like that.” Morgan said with a nod before looking back to his student with a quizzical face.

‘fuckin’ jerks’ was a bit of an understatement, but it definitely put Sam’s slacking in perspective. “Well, we’re going a little bit older than that, so you’ve got…nothing to lose. Today we’re not learning anything though, I’m not in the mood.” Morgan said with a little chuckle. “So…try not to sleep until I get names down?” He offered with a shrug.

And then it happened. Morgan was sure that Sam was his worst nightmare. Then a freaky looking brunette popped his head in the window. Yes! The window. Morgan had to try very hard to keep smiling. It didn’t work. His smile fell immediately as he watched Vincent break--yes, physically destroy--his favorite figure. Sighing heavily, he shook he head. “Nice work, but his hand definitely isn’t supposed to do that.”

The depth of Morgan’s sorrow was too painful for words. He loved that action figure. (Fortunately he was a big enough nerd to have a boxed version somewhere).

Scratching the back of his head, slightly annoyed, Morgan shrugged. “Uh…I hadn’t planned on you boys posing my stuff so interestingly, but you kinda already took off with that one didn’t you?” It was already broken…what the hell?

“Take it if you want it. By the way.” He added, standing up and moving back to the black board. He winced at Vincent’s pronunciation of his name. “Its Tonaya, actually. Tone-eye-uh. But Morgan will work if you don’t care for the second half” He leaned over his desk, somehow feeling that putting furniture between himself and the two hooligans would protect him.

“And actually Spidey, I think I am pretty lucky.” Morgan tilted his head and chuckled a bit. “Two friends? Both who don’t want to be in class? It’s gonna be a great week.” He said sarcastically, leaning back and pointing at Vincent he squinted over at Samuel. As he gestured in the direction of the two boys, his tattoo was visible on his wrist, seeing as the sleeves of his white and blue striped button-down were rolled up over his elbows.

“So he’s Spidey…and you’re Charmander? You must have a better name.” Morgan encouraged. It probably wasn’t the best idea to go along with Vincent’s jokes, but hey, go with the flow…right?

[Samuel Rixon]

Somehow, I think any class containing the shared stupidity of one half of the Idiot Brigade should come with a warning label. Just sayin’. Also, Sammy wants to know why he wasn’t invited to movie night.

There were very few classes Sam made the actual effort to be on time for. Those classes were the few that he got to share with November. The only reason he was on time for those was that if he wasn’t, someone might steal his coveted spot in the classroom. … That, and Ember might yell at him later for being late. Not that she didn’t yell at him anyway, for calling out stupid answers. In any case, Morgan was just lucky he’d decided to come to class clean. If he’d had time to take a hit or two, he would have. History was just that interesting to him.

No, Morgan wasn’t going to be listened to. Sammy was far too enamored with the little toy to give up this game so soon. He just grinned to himself, as he twisted the figure into positions it was probably never designed to get into. Really, Morgan had no idea just how long the class was going to be with this kid around. What could possibly be worse? Well, add Vincent to the mix, and the trouble is squared, if not cubed.

After Sam put it back on the desk, he looked quite pleased with himself. When Morgan asked how he’d done it, he just shrugged and giggled. “I dunno. I think he looks good like that though.” And the knowledge that Morgan would keep him that way? Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all, this new teacher dude. He had toys, and he seemed… well… a little cool. But History was still fuck boring.

Older? History went further back than Nazis? Sam groaned. “What th’ fuck came before Nazis, dude? Dinosaurs? Cavemen? … Wait. We gonna learn about cavemen? ‘Cause that would be friggin’ sweet.” Sigh. Once again, Sam’s lack of knowledge astounds me. “If we’re fuckin’ learning cavemen, I’m totally stayin’ awake!”

His excitement over the potential learning of cavemen was promptly cut short, however. At ‘’Sup?’, Sammy turned and grinned. Oh yes. Vincent and History. This had to be a good combination. … At least for Sam and Vincent. For anyone else? Tough luck. “Manson!” He was happy to see him, and as soon as he was close enough, he high fived the healer. “No fucking WAY, dude! … Did Ema bite you?” He’d never known the tarantula to bite. Ever. Not even when they poked her, or played with her feet.

When Vincent elbowed him, he reached out to slap at his arm in retaliation. Typical knee jerk reaction when it came to these two. And Vincent’s rendition of Morgan’s name? Hilarity. Sam snorted, then promptly elbowed him, a little harder than he probably should have. “Don’t call me fuckin’ Dickface, Dickface.” … Sense. He lacks it. Particularly when Morgan offered up his first name. “Dude, can we call ya Morgy?” The answer is probably no, dear.

Lucky? Morgan? Sarcastic or not, the answer is no. Sam just grinned. “You kidding? You got TOYS. And no Nazis! This is awesome!” Oh God no, Morgan’s inspired an interest. Though his questioning of their names made Sam cock an eyebrow. “Uh, dude, no.” He pointed at Vincent. “He’s Manson. But if ya call him Vince, it’s pretty fuckin’ funny.” No, Sammy. Don’t antagonize you friend. He’s not afraid to kill you. “An’… yeah. I’m Charmander.” Apparently Morgan’s not getting a straight answer out of him.

… Welcome to Hammel?

[Vincent Verax]

Vincent and Sammy were abusive of one another, this was no secret. Instead of hugs or cuddles or whatever normal friends did, they would punch, kick, bite, and/or slap each other. If Morgan likes slapstick, then I'm sure he'd enjoy having these idiots beating one another up in the back of his classroom. (Well, Vincent normally chose to sit in the back, but if this Morgan guy was cool enough to have TOYS on his fucking desk, then he might just sit up front.)

"Nah, Ema dinnit bite m'. I tried. Th'bitch was sittin' on m'gut an' I jus' kept pokin' her an' she dinnit care. BUT y'know, how fuckin' awesome would it b'if she WAS radioactive an' shit... awww yeah." I can only begin to imagine the sort of hijinks that Vincent would be up to if he had actual spider powers. He's already bad enough with his regeneration, but give him the ability to shoot webs from his wrist, climb up nearly any surface, etc. and I think bad things would happen. Very bad things. Thankfully, Ema does not posess the ability to turn Vin into Spiderman, so we can all count our lucky stars.

"Nah, 'ma call ya Mr. Toenail." Not the most flattering nickname, I know, but if he cares enough to come up with one, then you at least know you're in his good books. Morgan may not have wanted this nickname, but it's stuck to him now and it'll be like pulling teeth to get Vinnie to call him something else. Vincent rarely ever called Sammy by his proper name, it was always Charmander or Burninator or Fuckface or whatever insult he could think up at the time. Unfortunately for Sam, he happened to mention Vincent's most hated nickname and what did that earn him?

A punch in the face.

Now it wasn't a particularly hard punch because Vin was nice enough not to put his full power behind it. (He can hit real damn hard if he wants to.) Though that didn't change the fact that he'd just punched his friend in the face for calling him 'Vince' and if that wasn't a warning to Morgan not to do it, then I don't know what is. "Y'call m'that again an' I'ma put y'lights out, Twatface." He warned Sammy, then turned back to Morgan. "Y'can call m' Vincent or Vin or whatever y'want, but ain't nobody gunna call me Vince. An' this Shitbreath 'ver her... well he's jus' Charmander. 'Cause he burns shit." It made sense to him, so it should be crystal clear to everyone else.

But back to happy-go-lucky Vin, considering his rage never lasted long, he chimed in with "S'whats this I was hearin' 'bout cavemen?" His crooked grin spread across his face and he slid up onto the top of one of the desks. Apparently, when your IQ is dangerously low, cavemen are the most interesting thing about history. This just makes me picture Morgan in a fur-toga... and now I'm amused.

[Morgan Tonaya]

While “cavemen” wasn’t the best word Morgan would use to describe early human history before the advent of agriculture, if it was something the two boys would comprehend, he would stick to it. In fact, they could learn about cavemen all semester if it would get Spidey and Charmander---and yes he planned to refer to them as such for the duration of their schooling-- to behave. “Well it’s a good thing this history class starts with Ancient history and goes through the classical period.” He replied. However, it occurred to Morgan that Sam wouldn’t know or care what that meant (he didn’t particularly seem like the achieving type). Re-thinking his approach, Morgan rephrased his sentence. “We’re learning about Cavemen first.” He decided that was a good way to put it. That’d work, right? Call out to their interests? Morgan seriously began rethinking his curriculum. Cavemen all year, all the time.

Suddenly Morgan twitched at the mention of his mother’s pet name, giving away that he definitely didn’t want to be called “Morgy” or “Mister Toenail” (but at least there was a ‘Mister’ in the first half. There was a way to think optimistically about this, and Morgan was going to find it. No way he was losing hope just yet). He hated being called Morgy. Trying to discourage it, he scoffed, laughing a bit as he shook his head. “My Mom calls me Morgy. But call me whatever you want.” except Morgy. But he didn’t dare say that. (Reverse psychology; that worked, right?) Believe it or not, Morgan had gotten a rather good fix on these two kids (it wasn’t hard): trouble makers. They would do their best to make his class hell, if only for their own amusement due to their lack of any discernable intelligence. Morgan could deal…or at least he thought he could. Then Spidey socked Charmander square in the face. Appalled, Morgan scuttled out from behind his desk and leaned between the two boys, one of his hands on the flat surfaces of each of their desks, his panic registering for a moment on his face before it turned to annoyance.

“HEY HEY! What the shit guys?! Chill!” That’s right. Morgan said shit. Right in front of his students. For the most part, he rarely cursed in front of his students if at all, but Vin and Sam were throwing around the ‘f’ word like an article, and Morgan didn’t see any problem stooping to their level (poor decisions: Let’s make them!). At this point he was just glad neither of the two boys had punched him. Though he and Darryl had caused a bit of trouble in their years at Hammel, Polly and LiteBrite’s boisterous pranks were nothing compared to the shenanigans he could see these two students getting into. Sighing and removing his hands from the desks as Vincent slid on top of one, Morgan just shook his head. What a weird pair. But could he blame them? Class got pretty boring sometimes.

Ever hopeful, Morgan opted to regain his cool and try his hack again at keeping tabs on these two. Since Vin asked, he decided to clear his mind by giving the quickest over view of the course he had ever given, and in the stupidest words possible at that. “What you heard about cavemen is where we’re going to start. Cavemen, cows, then dudes in togas sitting around and thinking. That’s the whole course.” Morgan made a note to put that sentence into his syllabus for next semester. Maybe then more students would decide to take his class?

“Also, I want to do my best to make sure you guys don’t’ make my life hell, so I want your input on the class.” Morgan added cautiously. Probably a mistake. Right after he said it he knew it was mistake, mostly because he was convinced that Sam and Vin’s suggestions would probably involve cancelling classes or something else that was completely inappropriate.

...And for the record, Morgan would look awesome in a fur toga.

[Samuel Rixon]

Cuddles? Hugs? Unless they happened to be very, very drunk, they really didn’t exist between the two slackers. Sammy would happily cuddle Horus, or Ember, but not Vinnie. Vinnie was much more fun to wrestle with, sucker punch, bite, and... well, you get the picture. Yet they’re still the best of friends, more or less. I will never, ever understand boys.

Back to... you know. Class. The idea of studying cavemen was an exciting one for Sammy. He liked cavemen. They lay around and made fire and drew on the walls and rode dinosaurs. They also went bowling and had clubs with cool hats, and... do we see where this is going? His knowledge of cavemen is about as broad as a pinhead. What he knows spawns from movies, and, of course, The Flintstones. He copped a blank, stupid grin at Morgan’s explanation. No, he really didn’t get it. He was just focused on cavemen. The rephrasing made a lot more sense. “Fuckin’ sweet, dude.”

And back to Vincent, because Sam’s attention span is shorter than a gnat’s. The fact that Ema hadn’t bitten after that kind of abuse was a minor relief (he’d never experienced an Ema bite, nor did he want to), but it was still somewhat depressing (he liked stories of Vin getting bitten). “Dude! If she’s radioactive an’ shit, the bitch better bite me too!” If it meant wall climbing and web slinging? He’d put up with an Ema bite.

Morgan really should come to terms with the simple fact that, no, there is no hope for these two morons. Especially when ‘Mister Toenail’ actually sank in. It caused the pyrokinetic to crack up laughing. He knew Vincent. And he knew that there was no chance of poor Morgan actually making him come around to calling him by his proper name. He might have noticed the twitch to ‘Morgy’, too, had he been paying attention. He just grinned at the knowledge that his mother called him that. “My mom calls me Samuel, but only when I’m in big fuckin’ trouble.” Actually, if he’s in big trouble, it’s Samuel Joshua. But he’s not volunteering his middle name. “’Kay. So I’ma call you Morgy then.” Sam’s too smart for reverse psychology. ... Or is that too stupid? I can’t tell.

Now. Sam isn’t fond of face punches. Especially coming from Vincent, who hits like a semi truck. While he was entirely too used to this kind of thing, he didn’t yelp, but he did wince and recoil, his hand coming up to nurse his cheek. “Fuck you, Verax.” Aw. No loving nickname for Vinnie. Sam didn’t even mind when Morgan moved between them, simply throwing sulky glares Vincent’s way. “Bitch.” He didn’t even notice that Morgan had sworn at them, mostly because a) his cheek hurt, and b) he was now thinking up retaliation.

Sometimes, Sam is clever. And he was clever enough to know that moving to strike as soon as Morgan had moved was a bad idea. He just waited, cradling his cheek as he listened to the explanation he offered for the course outline. He didn’t get where the cows fit in, but cows were kind of cute, and they were lazy as hell, so they were okay in his books. As was Morgan asking their opinion. Sam shrugged. “We could totally cancel classes and sleep in instead.” Right. Because that’s going to fly.

And, as patience means very little to one Mr. Rixon, he’d had enough waiting. Morgan was far enough away, and enough time had passed that he probably wasn’t on guard anymore. What does this all mean? Simple. Sammy stepped forward and punched Vincent as hard as his pitiful muscles would let him. ... In the crotch. Revenge complete. And Sam looked utterly smug about it.

[Vincent Verax]

Vincent was rather unphased after knocking Sam in the face, but considering that's about the five-hundredth time he's done it, it's no shocked that he's not bothered that he just punched his own friend in the face. They were rowdy teenage boys with small brains that were more often than not kept in their pants and not their heads. They fought almost as often as they got along, it was just a trademark of their back-ass-wards friendship. If Morgan's going to be stuck with them for the semester, then he'd better get used to it. (And "scuttled" just made me picture him doing a Dr. Zoidberg walk. Thanks for that.)

Morgan's swearing was hardly a shock to Vincent especially once you realize that his entire vocabulary is nearly nothing but curse words and Sam's reaction made him laugh a little. That would teach Charmander not to use that name. (Okay, no it really wouldn't, because we all know Sammy will bring it up again at some later point in time and earn another fist to the face or any other body part within reach. They are nothing if not predictable.) "Alrigh'! Fuckin' cavemen! I'd make a sexy caveman." Vincent was grinning now, even wider than before, and looking at Morgan with actual excitement. He hadn't been this interested in learning since he'd been shut in with Eli who was telling him about alligators and body disposal and body disposal via alligators.

Learning had never been Vincent's cup of tea. Ask any teacher around and they'll tell you horror stories of having Vincent in their class and all the sorts of obnoxious stunts he's pulled or how he never does his homework or his complete disregard for the rules. He's ended up in detention more times than he can count and no matter what anyone does for punishment, he always come back same as ever. It may have had something to do with his dangerously short attention span (oh look, is that bird on the window sill?) or maybe even actual brain damage (he was dropped on his head several times as a child) but whatever it was, it was not going to help him graduate. If Morgan makes this class solely about caveman and cows, however, then he may actually have a chance of passing it. Dear god, a rise in his GPA? The world is ending.

Unfortunately for Vincent, who thought he had gotten away with decking his friend, revenge is a dish best served cold... or at least lukewarm. He was caught completely off guard when Sam's fist came out of nowhere and plowed right into his crotch. Releasing a pitiful sounding squeak, he covered the wounded area with his hands, then promptly tipped over to the side and fell off the desk. "Fuuuuuuuuuuucccckkk! Y'... Awwww SHIT... DICKFACE!" He couldn't even come up with a proper insult, as his most prized "possession" had just been damaged. (Maybe it's revenge on Morgan's part too, considering Vinnie broke his toy.)

He rolled around on the floor, holding his crotch as if that would alleviate the pain, and moaned pitifully. Of course this didn't mean that Sammy was off the hook, not even close. Vincent is going to get him back for this. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday! "I am... urgh... so gunna fuckin' kill ya, ya goddamn... pillow biter!" Just ignore him for now and let him writhe in pain. He'll get up eventually, just be careful to keep anything sharp out of his reach. I don't want to see Sammy get stabbed with a pen.

[Morgan Tonaya]

Morgan died a little inside each time one of the boys opened his mouth. The stuff that came out was just…preposterous. Morgan couldn’t even begin to imagine what went on inside their brains; he didn’t want to. All manner of terrifyingly stupid thought processes must take place each and every day inside those minds. And to think, in his time he’d been considered a slacker in history. Even Morgan was beginning to lose hope of being able to control this class. And that was staying something.

The thing that he didn’t lose was optimism (Morgan was gifted with unfailing good thoughts. Bless him. ) Though ‘Morgy’ was the absolute last thing he wanted to be called, sighing dejectedly when Samuel decided that would be his name, at least now he knew the true identities of the two boys. Samuel Rixon and Vincent Verax, the only two names on his roster that could match up with Spidey’s detestation of the name “Vince” and Charmander’s trouble-making tag of “Samuel.” There was some reason to hold out for a good day, right? Somehow, that simple thought that he had managed to accomplish something allowed Morgan to chuckle good-naturedly at Charmander’s comment.

“We can’t cancel class. I don’t get paid if we don’t have class. Plus then we can’t eat.” Morgan said with a shrug, sneaking in the promise of a class with food. It was already in his syllabus that they’d be cooking with pre-historic tools and methods…but why not give them a little teaser to try to calm them down? Maybe he’d even suggest some costuming, since Spidey was so sure he’d make a great caveman. To some degree Morgan agreed: they were at about the same level of intelligence…maybe Vincent was on the low end of the caveman bell curve, but still. Morgan was still convinced (despite evidence to the contrary) that piquing their interest would get Spidey and Charmander to calm down.

No such luck.

Morgan recoiled and let out an enraged “JESUS CHRIST” when Samuel socked Vincent square in the crotch. In addition to the rolling lurch of his stomach at even seeing the low-down retaliation, the room suddenly began to grow very bright. The intensity of the light grew exponentially until it was impossible to see in the room at all, and the vision of all three occupants of the room was flooded with a literally blinding light.

Morgan. Was not. Happy.

“What the hell is wrong with you two?!” He roared as a few light bulbs popped, showing broken glass and sparks onto some of the empty desks. Morgan inhaled a few deep breaths as the light began to dissipate, leaving a settling darkness into the room. Fortunately the sun was shining through the window, so Morgan wouldn’t have to deal with his fear of the darkness. At this point though, he wasn’t sure he’d have to deal with anything. He was so livid, he was distracted from the creeping shadows that began to fill the room as one by one the light bulbs burnt out from over exertion.

“Neither of you has any concept of basic decency! It’s ridiculous!” Morgan fumed, running his hands through his hair as he continued to breathe deeply. Morgan was never one to snap like that, or to use his powers against student. That’s right, Morgan had used his powers, not lost control of them due to his temper. There were some things that just didn’t connect with some people, and as far as these kids went? Common sense wasn’t going anywhere. As he moved his hands to scratch the back of his neck, the skin of his palms became visible. The exposed flesh of his hands and arms was a ruddy pink, much like newly acquired sunburn. Though the color quickly faded, Morgan’s skin remained very hot, a symptom he alleviated by pushing his sleeves further up his arm.

“Now that I have your attention. I hope you’re happy.” He grunted, praying to whatever deity would listen that the two boys would still be blind and somehow find it prudent to listen to him. “I had a lot planned for this class, and I’m a pretty laid back guy. Frankly, I think class can be really fun if you two can manage to not act like animals for a solid forty minutes or so.” Crossing his arms, Morgan shook his head. “I definitely won’t hesitate to white-out this room again…but I think my next course of action will be sending you two down to Doctor Neville for a real talking to.”

Morgan’s voice had finally faded from its tight, angry tone to its natural, friendly and relaxed state. “Don’t make me do that.” Morgan said with a sigh, leaning his still-warm hand on his desk. “Please, don’t make me do that.” His first fucking day and already he had to threaten to send kids to Sean. Not even the headmaster! Just Sean (whom Morgan had always thought was worse anyway).

[Samuel Rixon]

Sadly for Morgan, the thought of being able to eat in class really didn’t work in the way that he might have liked. Sammy made a bit of a pout face at the knowledge that, no, cancelling classes wasn’t an option. But hey, he was creative. Morgan was worried about money? “Aww, if it’s money ya want, you could always do what Manson does.” This isn’t going to end well. Sammy grinned. “He like... jumps off the roof. For money.” He also keeps certain secrets for money, but of all things, Sam refuses to suggest that. “We gonna play cavemen an’ eat like animals? DUDE. I’m totally whacking Manson with a club.” Considering the sheer amount of trouble they’re about to get in for something along those lines, I’m worried about their future in this class.

As smug as the pyro was after he punched his best friend, he didn’t have very long to enjoy it. His mini mental celebration was cut sadly short. By Morgan. Yelling at them. Wow... he had a temper. But it wasn’t the yell that really startled him, it was the sudden blinding light. Sam jumped and closed his eyes, attaching himself to the nearest available person. He didn’t care if it was Morgan or Vincent. When in doubt, cuddle. ... Or at least cling like your life depends on it.

Okay. He figured it out pretty fast. He had to be attached to Morgan, because the yelling was way too close to his ear to allow for the clinging to Vincent factor. Not that that made him let go, no. He was still half blind and entirely opposed to opening his eyes again until he was sure that it was safe. ... Morgan might have a human leech on his arm for a little while. Just sayin’.

Sadly, Morgan had a point, though. Common decency was fairly lacking in both teenagers. Sam could blame some of that on growing up with a bunch of siblings, learning to deal with getting picked on by the older ones, and in turn bullying the younger one. Of course, if he acted like this at home, his mother would probably skin him alive. Vincent makes him do bad things. (Okay, okay, he couldn’t really blame Vin either. They were as bad as each other.) With his eyes still tightly screwed shut, Sam managed to mumble out something along the lines of “he started it...” Which is a complete lie, and we all know it.

Clinging was getting a little ridiculous, however. So the pyro half opened his eyes and let go, stumbling backwards onto a desk. By some miracle, he stayed quiet during Morgan’s lecture, only really reacting to the last bit. The little threat of seeing Dr. Neville. Oh, Sam knew who he was. And he knew he was probably lucky for not having landed himself in there yet for certain... extracurricular activities. “Aww man! Don’t do that! I’ll be good!” ... It sounded like going to see Dr. Neville was a death sentence, the way Sam was pleading. “I won’t hit Manson no more.” Notice he didn’t say ‘promise.’ Just that he won’t. For now, that was as good as it was going to get.

[OOC - Apologies for the SHORT. I was just happy I got StonerBoy to do... anything. >_>]

[Vincent Verax]

Vincent's pained moaning and rolling around on the floor continued for quite some time. He acted like he'd just been shot rather than weakly punched in the dick by one of his friends, but as far as he was concerned genital pain was infinitely worse than any bullet holes. Besides, if he'd been shot, he could heal and the pain would go away rather quickly. This was a fist to his most sensitive area that did no real physical damage, but sent every nerve ending alight with searing pain. Truly there was nothing worse than this.

He could tell that Morgan was angry, but the words failed to register in his foggy brain. They were there, jumbled up and rolling around the inside of his skull like a skateboard in an empty pool, but no one was on board. It was only as he finally started to relax from the blow that he noticed that - HEY! Where'd the room go? One moment he was quite sure he was on the floor of the classroom, the next he couldn't see a thing. It scared him for a minute, but not enough to latch onto Morgan's leg unlike Sammy, though he did shout out "Oh fuck, I'm blind!" So much for being excited about cavemen, because what was the point if you couldn't see anything? And now he was panicking that he might never see Moe again. That would be a fate worse than death in his opinion.

Thankfully the light faded and through rapid blinking, the room slowly became visible again. So he wasn't blind, yay! But Morgan was still angry and Vincent wasn't quite sure why. The entirety of the teacher's words had summed up to "Be good or face Sean" to Vin and he wasn't particularly happy about that. Sean didn't scare him, really, but he was used to getting detention when he was bad, not a special punishment decided by Sean of all people.

"I don' get it, 'cha angry for? M'balls got punched, dude! M'fuckin' BALLS." Yes, he was still tender about that. Chances are he'll let it go anytime soon? Slim. "'m so gunna fuckin' kill ya, dipshit." Grabbing onto the edge of Morgan's desk, Vincent shakily pulled himself up from the floor and he shot a burning glare in Sammy's direction. This was not over yet, and he was going to make sure the pyro knew it... just not in front of Morgan because the threat of getting sent to Dr. Neville was an effective one. He didn't want to even begin thinking what the man might have them do, so he was going to behave... at least for the time being.

"Uh, so... didja say somethin' 'bout food?" Because there are three ways into Vincent's heart; his dick, fireworks, and his stomach.

[Morgan Tonaya]

Grimacing, Morgan shook his arm slightly to try and detach his student. He was surprised not only by the fact that Charmander’s grip remained fast, but also that they boy had chosen to latch onto something in the first place. It wasn’t like the light was hot or otherwise endangering…minus the fact that it took away sight. Though Morgan supposed he would have the same reaction had he been caught in a sudden darkness. “Alright that’s enough, hands off Charmander.” Morgan grunted, shaking Sammy with more vigor. A few moments after, the student stumbled blindly back to his desk.

“And I don’t care who started it, I’m just saying let’s call it finished before I have to make you guys hate me.” Morgan explained. He sounded like his mother (which was disturbing on several levels) after separating he and Darryl from an argument. Though he’d never fallen into a fist fight in front of an authority figure.

Come to think…Morgan had only ever been in one fist fight. But that wasn’t in high school and it certainly wasn’t worth mentioning.

Skeptical, Morgan looked sidewise at Sam. He hadn’t promised that he wouldn’t fight anymore, but Morgan was sure even if he had he wouldn’t have believed it. Charmander was probably not one to keep his promises…or remember he’d made them in the first place. However, it would have to do for now. Vincent had opened his fat mouth and was now spewing forth complaints that Morgan didn’t really want to deal with. Shrugging and putting his hands on his hips, he addressed Spidey, who clearly wasn’t getting the picture.

“He certainly did, and I fully expect you to pay him back later when you’re not in a classroom and I don’t have to threaten to punish you.” Morgan said with exasperation. And yes. He had just given license for Vin to beat the shit out of Sam later. It’s what he would have done had Darryl punched him in the balls…that and told his mom. Elaine could always make Darryl feel much worse than a whining Morgan could manage.

Sighing heavily, Morgan decided to continue on the food track. It seemed to be his most successful bit all class. “That’s right. We’ll be cooking with prehistoric tools…using every part of the animal too. Making clothes, buttons, jewelry and rope. Whatever you guys are good at.” Morgan listed, looking a little drained from such an ordeal. Not really using his power, but just being so…so stern for so long!

[Samuel Rixon]

The arm shaking really didn’t deter Sammy. He was blind, he didn’t like it, and he was naturally a person that liked contact. Especially when he was uncomfortable. It had been a rule, even when he was a kid. Because logic dictated that if he was scared, he could cling to an older sibling, and they’d protect him. It was that simple. His mind had gone into fight or flight the moment the light had blinded him, and he’d apparently chosen... cuddle. Well, cling. Same thing. It was only when Morgan really seemed to want him off that he let go. But he was still blind. And thus, unhappy.

Really, Sammy was incapable of hating anyone. Even Vincent, though he’d claimed to do so several times. Of course, he’d also threatened his friend with death, and that never happened either. Sam was just... lazy. Which showed, as he gave a lazy little shrug of his shoulders. “I ain’t gonna hate ya, Morgy. All the teachers yell at us.” That much is truth. Getting yelled at for sleeping in class, for fighting, it wasn’t uncommon.

At the death threat, Sam shot a look at Vincent. “Shut it, ass wipe.” Apparently the fighting was over with for now, but not so much the name calling. We all know what will happen the second they leave the classroom. In all likelihood, an all out brawl in the hallway, involving yelling and hitting and fire. For now, however, Sam was content in keeping his hands to himself. If it meant avoiding a visit with Dr. Neville, he’d do it. Even when that involved... shudder. Behaving. In all fairness, he hadn’t exactly promised to be good. And he wasn’t high, so he had a chance of remembering that he’d made some sort of agreement to be good. But if he hadn’t promised, well, it was fair game to break later.

Back to actual class related stuff. Sam listened, with a surprising amount of interest. “Dude! We gonna go hunting an’ stuff? An’ like... do gross stuff like the Indians did? DUDE. I want a buffalo coat.” ... Because buffalo existed in the times of ‘cavemen.’ Of course they did. Really, I think the drugs have completely fried Sam’s brain at this point. He fails to make sense anymore. “I’ma make something gross and send it to my sisters.” Loving little thing, isn’t he?

[Vincent Verax]

Sam and Vin were notoriously misbehaved on their own, let alone together. Unfortunately for poor, sweet Morgan he had to learn this first hand. Had he known beforehand, he may have been able to prepare for the degenerates to disgrace his classroom. Not the use of "may" as I doubt that anyone could ever truly prepare themselves for the amount of idiocy and lack of civility that these two bring to the table. It'll be a miracle if they ever graduate.

Vincent continued to shoot death glares at his friend, mainly because the only thing he could think to do in retaliation at the moment was launch himself at the pyro fists first, and surely there was a better way to get revenge. Also the threat of being sent to Dr. Neville's office was still fresh in his mind. We've been over this before; Vin is dumb, he'll forget the consequences before long and then get right back to causing trouble. "Suck m'balls, twatface." The regenerator snapped in reply. Name-calling and insults were still on the menu, of course. Sorry, Morgan, you might want to plug your ears.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he turned way from Sammy, rather obviously upset over the low blow from earlier. He did his best at focusing on what Morgan was saying, snorting derisively at Sammy's outburst. "I wanna make a sexy hat! Wi' like... horns!" Okay, so maybe his addition wasn't the greatest either, but it was so totally cooler than a buffalo coat. Just a warning, but if I were Morgan, I wouldn't let Vin use or have anything that is sharp. He'll only end up hurting himself (which isn't that bad since he'll just heal) or someone else. Namely Sammy. Isn't he just the greatest friend you could ever ask for?

Suddenly, Vincent started laughing. That was never a good sign. A devious little smirk crept across his face and he shot a sidelong glance at Same. "Hey, Tiny-Dick, maybe I shoul' tell Tits ya seeeeccreeett!" Revenge? Oh hell yeah. Their whole deal had sprouted from Sam not wanting Ember to ever know what had happened between them. Vin knew this and if he could get at Sammy without actually touching him, he was going to be all over it. Morgan couldn't possibly know what he was talking about (unless he could read Vin's mind, but heaven knows no one wants to go there) so there wasn't a way he could punish an innocent-sounding threat, was there?