Post by Deleted on Apr 13, 2013 1:46:44 GMT -5
The scene slowly opens to a contemporary office of sorts. You know the type: Maple furnishings, sturdy desk a somewhat lavish lamp perfectly placed for important document browsing. A series of papers are revealed as the camera pans closer. One can barely make out the text, however even with the inconvenient camera position we notice that the document on top is a varied "profile" of sorts, akin to the typical contract necessary to compete within the dank halls of the North Atlantic Wrestling League. Take notice to the standard office chair with a bushy, receded-hairline cranium bobbing slowly as it's occupying the said chair.
"Quite the digs, wouldn't you agree?"
Suddenly, the chair turns revealing the condescending grin of the one and only resident Guidance Counselor... Craig. With a slight snicker, he continues.
"Mister Morgan, while quite the well-read gentleman must be out of his mind if he expects me to spend a majority of time in that stuffy fecal-scented hodgepodge of sweaty ineptitude he calls a locker-room. SO, I took it upon myself to dump what remaining funds I had for this little excursion of mine to purchase my very own trailer."
There's a quick pan to the mentioned trailer parked humbly outside of the venue. We notice a laminated sign reading "Guidance Counselor" hung eloquently on the door. Quickly, it fades back to Craig. His voice cracks as he cackles, almost effeminately.
"Sure, it's not a third-floor office with all of the benefits of a Culligan and a fantastic portrait of myself to gaze lovingly at; all things considered, it'll do. Especially in comparison to that glorified closet."
He unnecessarily straightens the documents mentioned earlier and clears his throat. A slight smirk emerges from his well-shaped lips as he continues.
"Welp, It's day one here. Lemme' tell ya, we have some work to do here."
There's a John F. Kennedy-esque banter to his speech. Somewhat satirically.
"As of right now... We're in the research portion of my investigation. Probing what goes through the minds of these so called 'Graahhplers.' I've painstakingly took the last 4 hours studying the habitat i'm forced to demonstrate my 'skialls'[skills] in. As far as I'm concerned, I have quite the challenge ahead of me. When I think of the Northeast I think of a bunch of uncultured swine educated on nothing but the anatomy of Clam Chowder and Philly Cheese Steaks. From what I've gathered, my thesis most likely holds true. These, pale uncouth knuckle-draggers I've meticulously peered from afar spend their days pacing back and forth, babbling about God knows what, and religiously staring at themselves in the spit-stained mirror in that dingy complex thirty-yards away."
Craig feigns a shudder as he continues his monologue.
"I'm offering an ultimatum, however. I've left a stack of papers on the sink in that cesspool of a locker-room with my cell-phone number and accolades; ahem, - 'Achievements' for you un-educated folk out there. All pleasantly written in crayon so the entirety of the roster can relate and understand what i'm trying to convey. I even drew a cell-phone so you mongoloids would understand the general shape of the device you'll be contacting me with. However, that's not the point. The point is this: I'm here for you. All of you. If ever you need to chat, I'm simply a phone call, away. Perhaps we can get you set-up on the high-road to education with my patented learning methods. Don't forget, I have plenty of hankies in case drooling becomes an issue - I assume it would be. By all means, contact me. I expect your calls forthcoming very, very soon..."
With that, Craig gives a demeaning wink at the camera as it slowly fades to black...