Zoe had spent most of yesterday pacing in her living room, rereading the letter from the school board, and leaving angry phone messages in clipped five-minute sections. The limitations on voicemail were just ridiculous when one had a lot on their mind
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If one looked carefully, one might notice the point where Zoe started to twitch.
[Please wait for the school board members to start pinging in!]
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Ungrateful ingrates.
"Hello, ladies and gentlemen and--" wow, this place was bizarre. "--others! We are here to save you from yourselves!" He gestured at his fellow members of the board, and waited (probably in vain) for more applause.
"If you have any questions or complaints, well, we don't care," he added. "Questioning things is unpatriotic!" He pointed to Edna Mode. "But wearing uniforms Made in the USA! That's patriotic! As is polyester, which was invented right here in America!"
Probably. It's not like he checked these things.
"So line right up to get put into your new Costumes of Freedom!"
He smiled oh-so-sincerely at them. "Or if you insist on getting my autograph first, please have a check ready made out to my SuperPAC where we work on--" here he paused to stare dramatically into the middle distance, "making a better tomorrow, tomorrow ( ... )
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"You cannot be serious." This was going to be an unbearable day.
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"Sorry," she said when she caught her first glimpse of the principal's face, not really taking much notice of who else might have been standing near by. Emergency situations, you know. "I couldn't even get to him! Portalocity stranded me overnight in some dimension where everybody's six inches tall, blue, and lives in a mushroom hut, and there's only one woman in the entire freaking village."
The number of times she'd had to repeat No, because you would DIE would have been difficult to count if it hadn't been exactly equal to the population posted on a tree trunk outside the mushroom town hall. Plus the one No, because I will KILL YOU, of course. She didn't really mind the balding, but why did ( ... )
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You could look around yourself anytime, Bo.
"Well, shitballs."
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Oh, Bo. You only wish it was that kind of Costume of Freedom.
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... Given that this was Darby Evans -- and, for that matter, Stephen Colbert -- 'more reasoned' didn't mean calm.
"No, no, no, this won't do at all. Those wings will have to be covered up, and oh, my, that full-body tattoo?" She was looking right at Jono with that, yes. "Say it with me now: cover-up. I'm sure Ms. Mode can find something to disguise that particular shade of cerulean!"
Looking around, she considered the whole crowd. "And some of you look so angry! Oh, we'll just have to yoga that out of you. I'm certain you'll all relax if you give yourselves the chance!"
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"Or maybe we just don't like it when people come in and demand we change who and what we are so we can look 'normal'," she said flatly.
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Darby's eyes went steely. "The occasion in question is the arrival of the people who fund this school. If you wish the school to continue, you might reign in your temper."
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"There is a difference between dressing for an occasion and telling someone the way they look is wrong," she said through clenched teeth. "And singling people out in particular for needing to be fixed."
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Still not the same thing.
"Wrong for the occasion," Darby insisted. "I have absolutely no problem with how anyone may look -- or even choose to look -- in their own time. This week? Their time is not their own. If they wish to continue being associated with this school, they will accept our... suggestions."
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