Post by avakane on Jun 10, 2014 16:33:11 GMT -6
A/N
A version on Fanfiction.net can be found. But I decided to start posting on chapters here. Notably, this story is revised/updated from its original FF.net release so for those who have read story on FF.net, will find that some plot points are altered. And the FF.net version will be updated according to the updates of this very board.
So without further ado, I do not own any of the Pixar characters.
"...if you work hard and never give up, everything will always work out, ... It's not always true,"
-Dan Scanlon, director of Monsters University
Wearing his best salesman grin, Don Carlton did not bother with his usual greeting to Professor Knight as he stepped up to the Scare stimulator before the eyes of his fellow (younger) Scare classmates. With all the Fall semester Scare knowledge jogging through his head, he answered Professor Knight's first question with ease.
"Demonstrate the technique."
Don rubbed his tentacles arms on his blue shirt to minimize the stickiness of his darn suction pads on his tentacles arms, a trait of his Cephlopodian heritage, and straightened his glasses. Then he creaked open the simulator door, pulled his tentacle off the door knob, crouched down, and crawled across the floor, with his darn suction pads popping noise on the wood floor, into the child bedroom simulator. He towered over the scare-dummy, bent over… Then his back cracked and Don's cry of anguish startled the dummy, which sprung up with its obligatory artificial scream, causing scream-energy measure to beam feebly.
Don could hear the crowd of Scaring students whispering in their seats.
If only I was as young and sprightly as these kids are...
"Don- I mean, Mr. Carlton, are you well enough to take this Exam?" Concern rang in Professor Knight's gruff voice.
Darn old back.
"I'm fine, Dere-, um, sir!" Don reassured him.
Professor Knight shot a look toward the high balcony of the classroom where the looming figure of Dean Hardscrabble presided over every student's progress. Daring to look up at her, Don could discern a nod of her head, which consented to a rare act of academic mercy. With that, Prof. Knight ordered, "Mr. Carlton, please re-demonstrate the technique."
He tried to brush off the sound of snickering. Top row. A double-horned mellon-headed purple monster covered his mouth as if he could not believe the display before him.
Focus, old Donny. Don't mind the ache in your back now.
To distract himself from his creaking back, Don had a mental projection of an Exam posting in the wall. He summoned the vision of a passing score next to his name.
Don exited the child's bedroom, reentered, crept near the bed (with his suckers still popping with durn extraneous noise), rose over the dummy, and belted out another roar at the dummy, which jolted up with a scream and fired up a longer, therefore improved beam from the scream-measure.
His Exam proceeded as Prof. Knight shot up more questions, all that Don answered with ease before facing the dummy again with doses of pain tearing through his shoulder with every demonstration. And in the intervals in his performance, he tried to ignore the stifled fits of snickering in the auditorium.
That evening, Professor Knight slapped the morning Exam results on the wall outside his office.
Don J. Carlton – Oral Questions: Passed—Scare Energy Average: "46/100"—Demonstration: Failed
His back throbbing from the morning exam, Don kept the grin on his face, as a salesman did, moving from customer to customer after unsuccessful sale to the next potential client. Don slipped through the crowd of rowdy Scare students, gathered around to see their Exam results. He spied Professor Knight crossing through the crowd and giving him a nod to acknowledge how grateful he was to have one nice student, who spoke to the faculty staff like old friends and equals, unlike the young students who vented about deadlines and intensive work.
Whistling a tune to alleviate the disappointment, Don stepped outside the School of Scaring. He had to rest again, so he settled himself on the stone steps of the School, and scooted to the side to give space for the students skipping down the steps, boasting of a new Scare semester to look forward to.
Then, a peach-colored glob-like monster in a blue sweater trotted down the steps, when his foot slipped at the edge, and he would have tumbled down if weren't for Don, who disregarded his aching back and snatched the kid's back-collar. By jerking of the neck-collar, the kid's cap flew off and tumbled down the steps, revealing a tuff of brown hair next to an angled white horn (the matching pair was missing).
"Thanks," the kid mumbled as Don pried his tentacles off the kid's collar. The kid had five-eyes and a doltish face too benign to fire up the scream simulator even with a roar. Don vaguely remembered this student, passing by him in class. He probably was the sort of student who tucked himself in the back and corners of the classrooms, not to commit mischief, but to hide from the eyes and vulnerability to the Professor's questions. The kid wobbled, his lips quivering, muttered another thanks, and then turned away.
"You ok sonny?"
With his head facing the gravel, the kid descended down the steps toward his fallen hat like a pebble sinking in a pond. "Just a hiccup." More like the choke of a sob. At the bottom of the steps, a female monster in a flowery-dress, similar in appearance to the kid, but the size larger and golden curls draping her forehead with two horns protruding from her head, ran toward the steps and scooped up the kid's hat.
"Sweeettie! LEetttt celeeeebrrateee." She bellowed as she stuck the hat back on the kid's head.
"Moooom, I didn't make it. Stop it." So it was not the fall that hurt the student.
The kid's grief provoked an even tighter squeeze from his mother. "Oh I'm so sorry, sweetie." With the kid's head buried on the side of his mother, they strolled off together. It was rare to see young college folks blessed with parental warmth.
Then, Don's back shot up another pain on his shoulder blades and right through his train of thought. Throwing his hand to his shoulder, he would have to walk off the pain sooner or later. So he staggered pass Scare students, chatting about the upcoming winter break. He wandered the campus until he found a university café and decided to grab a bite. Entering the café, he heard the cajoling of young monsters, and fraternities, gathered around small tables with chairs they snatched from vacant tables, sharing gossip and conspiring their future victories in upcoming competitions.
After making his purchase, he set down a plate with a little tart and a cup of hot chocolate and seated himself at the table in front of the glass window.
His eye caught a Blue Poster.
"Propose Your Own Fraternity/Sorority"
Don adjusted his glasses to look closer to the smaller text below the bold text: "visit Office of Greek Life and see Claire Wheeler or Brock Pearson for procedures." Interesting. In his college, well, earlier college days, he had a curiosity about fraternity culture, but he found it redundant when he already hung around his own circle of college friends. Say, speaking of old friends…
While buried in his Scare studies last week, Don had received phone messages from old co-workers, wishing him happy birthday, a day of secondary importance to the Scare Finales. Don stared down at his tart, his overdue birthday treat for the five decades and two years he lived. He should probably make time to get in touch with his old friends tonight. So he bit into the tart, gulped down his drink to wash the crumbs down, and wiped the chocolate from his fin-like mustache and picked up his remaining tart with a napkin. Tossing the paper cup in the garbage bin, he exited the café.
On his way toward the University library, he passed by two familiar figures sitting at the curb of a campus road. It was the fallen Scare student again, licking half-melted chocolate ice cream cone with his mother next to him.
The kid was mumbling something so low that Don could only infer from the mother's response what the kid was saying.
"It's allllll right," she answered with her voice like a tune, "take your time Scottie, love. You'll find a new major in no time."
The kid's voice rose. "But mom, that was the only major I wanted, what am I really gonna do next? And will I even like my new major?"
Chewing on the last of his tart, Don Carlton asked himself those same questions.
A/N
Spot the homage to Pete Docter's Up (and thus a homage to Scott's voice actor Peter Sohn)!
A version on Fanfiction.net can be found. But I decided to start posting on chapters here. Notably, this story is revised/updated from its original FF.net release so for those who have read story on FF.net, will find that some plot points are altered. And the FF.net version will be updated according to the updates of this very board.
So without further ado, I do not own any of the Pixar characters.
"...if you work hard and never give up, everything will always work out, ... It's not always true,"
-Dan Scanlon, director of Monsters University
Chapter 1: The Mature Student
"Demonstrate the technique."
Don rubbed his tentacles arms on his blue shirt to minimize the stickiness of his darn suction pads on his tentacles arms, a trait of his Cephlopodian heritage, and straightened his glasses. Then he creaked open the simulator door, pulled his tentacle off the door knob, crouched down, and crawled across the floor, with his darn suction pads popping noise on the wood floor, into the child bedroom simulator. He towered over the scare-dummy, bent over… Then his back cracked and Don's cry of anguish startled the dummy, which sprung up with its obligatory artificial scream, causing scream-energy measure to beam feebly.
Don could hear the crowd of Scaring students whispering in their seats.
If only I was as young and sprightly as these kids are...
"Don- I mean, Mr. Carlton, are you well enough to take this Exam?" Concern rang in Professor Knight's gruff voice.
Darn old back.
"I'm fine, Dere-, um, sir!" Don reassured him.
Professor Knight shot a look toward the high balcony of the classroom where the looming figure of Dean Hardscrabble presided over every student's progress. Daring to look up at her, Don could discern a nod of her head, which consented to a rare act of academic mercy. With that, Prof. Knight ordered, "Mr. Carlton, please re-demonstrate the technique."
He tried to brush off the sound of snickering. Top row. A double-horned mellon-headed purple monster covered his mouth as if he could not believe the display before him.
Focus, old Donny. Don't mind the ache in your back now.
To distract himself from his creaking back, Don had a mental projection of an Exam posting in the wall. He summoned the vision of a passing score next to his name.
Don exited the child's bedroom, reentered, crept near the bed (with his suckers still popping with durn extraneous noise), rose over the dummy, and belted out another roar at the dummy, which jolted up with a scream and fired up a longer, therefore improved beam from the scream-measure.
His Exam proceeded as Prof. Knight shot up more questions, all that Don answered with ease before facing the dummy again with doses of pain tearing through his shoulder with every demonstration. And in the intervals in his performance, he tried to ignore the stifled fits of snickering in the auditorium.
That evening, Professor Knight slapped the morning Exam results on the wall outside his office.
Don J. Carlton – Oral Questions: Passed—Scare Energy Average: "46/100"—Demonstration: Failed
His back throbbing from the morning exam, Don kept the grin on his face, as a salesman did, moving from customer to customer after unsuccessful sale to the next potential client. Don slipped through the crowd of rowdy Scare students, gathered around to see their Exam results. He spied Professor Knight crossing through the crowd and giving him a nod to acknowledge how grateful he was to have one nice student, who spoke to the faculty staff like old friends and equals, unlike the young students who vented about deadlines and intensive work.
Whistling a tune to alleviate the disappointment, Don stepped outside the School of Scaring. He had to rest again, so he settled himself on the stone steps of the School, and scooted to the side to give space for the students skipping down the steps, boasting of a new Scare semester to look forward to.
Then, a peach-colored glob-like monster in a blue sweater trotted down the steps, when his foot slipped at the edge, and he would have tumbled down if weren't for Don, who disregarded his aching back and snatched the kid's back-collar. By jerking of the neck-collar, the kid's cap flew off and tumbled down the steps, revealing a tuff of brown hair next to an angled white horn (the matching pair was missing).
"Thanks," the kid mumbled as Don pried his tentacles off the kid's collar. The kid had five-eyes and a doltish face too benign to fire up the scream simulator even with a roar. Don vaguely remembered this student, passing by him in class. He probably was the sort of student who tucked himself in the back and corners of the classrooms, not to commit mischief, but to hide from the eyes and vulnerability to the Professor's questions. The kid wobbled, his lips quivering, muttered another thanks, and then turned away.
"You ok sonny?"
With his head facing the gravel, the kid descended down the steps toward his fallen hat like a pebble sinking in a pond. "Just a hiccup." More like the choke of a sob. At the bottom of the steps, a female monster in a flowery-dress, similar in appearance to the kid, but the size larger and golden curls draping her forehead with two horns protruding from her head, ran toward the steps and scooped up the kid's hat.
"Sweeettie! LEetttt celeeeebrrateee." She bellowed as she stuck the hat back on the kid's head.
"Moooom, I didn't make it. Stop it." So it was not the fall that hurt the student.
The kid's grief provoked an even tighter squeeze from his mother. "Oh I'm so sorry, sweetie." With the kid's head buried on the side of his mother, they strolled off together. It was rare to see young college folks blessed with parental warmth.
Then, Don's back shot up another pain on his shoulder blades and right through his train of thought. Throwing his hand to his shoulder, he would have to walk off the pain sooner or later. So he staggered pass Scare students, chatting about the upcoming winter break. He wandered the campus until he found a university café and decided to grab a bite. Entering the café, he heard the cajoling of young monsters, and fraternities, gathered around small tables with chairs they snatched from vacant tables, sharing gossip and conspiring their future victories in upcoming competitions.
After making his purchase, he set down a plate with a little tart and a cup of hot chocolate and seated himself at the table in front of the glass window.
His eye caught a Blue Poster.
"Propose Your Own Fraternity/Sorority"
Don adjusted his glasses to look closer to the smaller text below the bold text: "visit Office of Greek Life and see Claire Wheeler or Brock Pearson for procedures." Interesting. In his college, well, earlier college days, he had a curiosity about fraternity culture, but he found it redundant when he already hung around his own circle of college friends. Say, speaking of old friends…
While buried in his Scare studies last week, Don had received phone messages from old co-workers, wishing him happy birthday, a day of secondary importance to the Scare Finales. Don stared down at his tart, his overdue birthday treat for the five decades and two years he lived. He should probably make time to get in touch with his old friends tonight. So he bit into the tart, gulped down his drink to wash the crumbs down, and wiped the chocolate from his fin-like mustache and picked up his remaining tart with a napkin. Tossing the paper cup in the garbage bin, he exited the café.
On his way toward the University library, he passed by two familiar figures sitting at the curb of a campus road. It was the fallen Scare student again, licking half-melted chocolate ice cream cone with his mother next to him.
The kid was mumbling something so low that Don could only infer from the mother's response what the kid was saying.
"It's allllll right," she answered with her voice like a tune, "take your time Scottie, love. You'll find a new major in no time."
The kid's voice rose. "But mom, that was the only major I wanted, what am I really gonna do next? And will I even like my new major?"
Chewing on the last of his tart, Don Carlton asked himself those same questions.
A/N
Spot the homage to Pete Docter's Up (and thus a homage to Scott's voice actor Peter Sohn)!