After an outdoor workout, they would rest in an empty classroom.
"Ok, we got about a week until the next competition and then that Final competition, so I now that we're rest up." Mike had a mischievous grin. "I've got a little surprise drill for you guys."
They leaned forward from their desks, ready to react to his barrage of homemade flashcards, expecting him to shout out hypothetical situations.
He whipped out some notebook paper. "A timed essay."
Sulley, Squishy, and Terri simultaneously threw out an immediate "Aw," as disgruntled students do when ambushed with a pop quiz. Don and Terry exchanged glances. Art went, "Aw yeah."
"Pardon me, Michael," Don remarked. "I appreciate the drill. Wouldn't it be more productive to rehearse our knowledge rather than... scribble it down?"
Mike seemed prepared for this sort of feedback. "The idea is that I read them aloud. And based on your knowledge and content, I toss out miscellaneous tips, based on what I assess from your display of knowledge." Mike especially gave Sulley a look. "Can't write a decent essay on Scaring, less chance of doing a perfect Scare."
Sulley resisted the urge to chomp on his pencil.
"The prompt is Scare Semantics."
Sulley shot his hand up. "Wait, what does-"
"Just write what you know!"
Terry was the most amply prepared, the lead of his pencil already on the first line of the notebook paper.
The Scarer's Semantics
Semantics in Scaring is like improvised choreography, according to the interchangeable environments of various children's bedroom as well as the children's preferences, meant to entertain (not in a comedic connotation) the insecurities of the child to maximize the acquisition of Scream energy. Any miscalculation in the choreography could downplay the effectiveness of the Scare by sending underwhelming messages to the child. The execution of the three main stages of contact - Entrance/Initiation, Confrontation, and Departure - are critical to the message the Scarer must convey to the child.
Entrance/Initiation involves atmosphere building, evoking suspicion in the child and stirring up fear. Shadows can be applied in building the atmosphere. Sometimes a small nightlight can be an advantage for the Scarer to play with shadows. Minor noises, like a scratch or a creep, can set the mood. A noise like hissing noise may offer the impression that the monster can strangle it in its coils. Optionally, a Scarer can wake the child early on and let the child absorb the atmosphere before the Scarer reveals himself. Sudden Scares are optional too, but developing the atmosphere increases the chance of potent Scare energy. Atmosphere building stirs the fear in the child and warms up the Scaring effectiveness of the Scarer.
In the Confrontation stage, the Scare has to be direct. The roar, or fearsome pose, must have a paralyzing effect so the child does not think to dash out the door and alert the parents. The roar must convey "fleeing is useless." They have to be too busy wasting their energy on their fears to act rationally. Making the child cry has to be avoided as technology has yet to progress to dampen out cryings or wailings. An immediate cry suggests that the Scare wasn't direct enough. No physical contact, that has to be avoided due to toxicity. But proximity matters in sending Scary vibes. The distance between Scarer and child must be risky but safe, preferably two inches ahead of the child's average arm's length from the child's. Eye contact is often a must to assert a threatening image.
Departure must be swift, so an exit plan must be thought out during Initiation, based on the arrangement of the hazardous playthings, as the Scarer previously assessed in Initiation. Although door technology can temporary deaden the noise of the child scream to delay the arrival of the parents, the exit has to be theatrically and inconspicuously quick so the child can barely process that something was in its room all along.
The tricky part is that the Scarer must overall have the child believe in the existence of the Scarer without knowing the Scarcer's clearly tangible existence. We have to appear tangible without giving away that we are tangible all along. To minimize the danger of discovery, the Scarer must act accordingly to the human's perception that the world and idea of monsters is a myth - a figment of imagination - to the children. It involves a deftness of misdirection and tricks to play of the young human's paranoia. Semantics in the Scaring is distinctive from causal semantics between mons. Scaring semantics rarely involve verbal communication - though a concise verbal threat can be an optional Scare - and are more auditory and visual driven. Verbal words take too much time, though a concise verbal threat can be applied to certain children depending on their fear preference. The ideal Scarer makes a fleeting, but monstrous impression on the child. The Scarer must maintain that myth that children have to fear the mons, not the other way-
"Time's up! Terry, drop that pencil!"
After tossing aside Art's elaborate sketch of a child's room, Mike read Terry's paper aloud. He read everything but the final paragraph, for as pleasantly lengthy and detailed as it was, it seemed that last paragraph was trailing off to slightly irrelevant tangents. Although he needed to jump ahead to the physical practices, he did not forget to throw out a compliment.
"Well fellas, looks like someone has been closely studying those advanced books I recommended."
And he switched off the classroom light. Without being asked, everyone scrambled the positions of the desks to create a training ground. The blinds were yanked down to limit the sunlight.
"Terry. Oh, and Terri. You first." Mike's voice emulated the sternness of Prof. Knight, ready to toss out a hypothetical situation.
And Mike especially looked forward to what Terry and Terri could do with shadows.
Last Edit: Jun 21, 2014 18:13:36 GMT -6 by avakane
Don was not surprised to see that library computer lab was filled with students improvising the content of their term papers, probably due an hour away. The dark circles under their eyes marked the stress of finals week as their eyes scurried over their research and studies as their hands or tentacles flipped through pages.
Of all the students who pulled off their "all-nighters," Don considered himself the worse procrastinator. Over 30 years late working for a lost dream. It wasn't too late, Don had told himself. It wasn't too late. That was what all these young students told themselves as they engrossed themselves in their distractions instead of their assignments and studies. And as long as they staggered through with a passing grade, the only consequence to them was just the stress of the rush, not the academic consequences. Don could only wish the best for them all, hoping that they would learn not to underestimate the consequences of any sort of stress. He had learned too late in life that there was heavy stress in trying to prevent, or avoid, stress.
At least Don no longer had to worry about classes that demanded physical exertion like Scaring. He could at least sit back, relax, and explore the computers.
Ah, the mysterious and terrifying world of computers just might outdo the thrill of opening the doors of the human dimension.
He clicked onto the Internet browser onto something new, something bursting with data and wonders in its pixel world, with the unknown behind each click. According to his Computer Basics instructor, this something called the Internet was a rising innovation, and the University was applying this innovation for the greater academic good of its students, starting in the library computer lab.
Hovering his mitt-like hand over the keys, his thumb twitched toward the 'D' button, only to accidentally press onto 'D' and 'F' simultaneously. Good thing there was Backspace.
Darn mitt hands. If only he was blessed with many fingers.
After some clicking, Don finally opened a link on M. U. net and tapped on the correct keys to log onto his college profile.
Minor: Computer Science
So within a few hours after the exam, the Program had already revoked his status as a Scaring major. The University truly was experimenting quickly with this Internet.
Click. Remove minor. Click. Scroll down all the choice of majors. Computer Science. Select. Click. Thank you for selecting major. The Academic Office will review your selection.
Click. That repetitive sound marked his certain future, 2 or 3 years after he would march out of M.U., for the second time in his life, straight toward another job, with only programming and software to look forward to.
Don's bus always passed by a familiar sight, a large company building with the steely words "Oozmanian Industry."
Don recalled how one-by-one, old co-workers, pals like Pete, Andrew, Dan, and more were laid off. So Don had faced his job loss with neither surprise nor grief. It had taken Don two days to clean out his office for the next salesmonster, hired for youthful and fresh talent. No hard feelings, just the way of the world, inviting progress from the old. After studying his employment options, Don had resolved not to go back to sales, at least, not full-time. And so the door closed on his life of three decades, and it was time to find another door. And he had thought that he could discover this metaphorical new door back at his alma mater, Monsters University.
As the Don's former workplace faded from view, Don shook off these thoughts so not to miss his stop.
Finally, the bus reached Dark Avenue. Don stepped out and walked to apartment 1200. Unlocking the door, he entered his snug spacing of four rooms- bathroom, kitchen, living room of three chairs and a sofa, bedroom.
He entered his bedroom, went to his desk, and started flipping through his second-hand Scare textbooks and smoothed the creases of page corners. Then he set the books at the corner of the desk, ready to sell them to new Scare students.
Don adjusted the crooked frame above his desk that exhibited his diploma, 30 years old document with fancy bold words.
Don Joel Carlton
Bachelors of Business
The frame was grimed with dust, and it even somehow snaked its way onto the glass casing of the document, dulling the cream-white parchment. The parchment, and the four years of education along with it, had been invalidated by the economic downturns.
Now to tidy up the rest of his desk.
Don rummaged through his old paperwork on his desk, sorting them into files. Among the scraps, he dug up a copy, or perhaps a draft, of his application to Monsters University. He squeezed it in his hand, about to crumble it when a certain, amusing detail caught his eye.
Major: "Computer Scie-" it stopped at mid-writing, slashed out by the rapid swish of Don's pen, which then wrote the following, un-slashed, words "Scaring." Don crumbled the application, which conveniently stuck to a suction cup, scraping it on the recycle bin's ledge so the paper could fall in.
As he resumed his cleaning, Don picked up the last piece of paper, creased and worn, with faded pencil writing.
…he looked after my every dreams. It is up to me now to carry on his legacy by holding on to the spirit he passed down to me...
He found the one-year old draft of a eulogy for the late William Carlton, composed by his surviving only son, who was now filing the eulogy carefully so not to crease it again, and then he glanced at a photo on the wall of his father, who bore an appearance like his son's, but green with brown spots and a woolen sweater.
After that, Don heaved himself onto his bed and reached for the phone on the nightstand to contact his old friends. He carefully dialed the numbers so not to stick his suction cups to the buttons. First call was to Andrew, probably too busy because he did not pick up, so Don left a message. Then Pete, greeted old pal Don with a pleasant twenty second conversation that consisted of howdy, sorry Don, about to enter my fourth job interview of the week, good wishes and good bye.
Only ole' Dan made time for a real conversation. "Don! It's great to hear from you again. How's school?"
"Swell! How's work?"
"Work? I've found work! They were hiring over in Fright Town. It's enough to get by and bring home the bread. So how are them computers?"
"Oh, they're dandy, Dan." Actually, the computers were complicated. "Ima gonna actually take Computer Science as full-time now. One semester in the Scaring Program and they dropped me off."
A pause. Dan's silence was a sign that he was just realizing something.
"Say, yer takin' Scaring?"
Don suddenly realized this was the first time he ever told a friend about his Scaring pursuits.
"Oh yeah! Forgot to tell ya' about mai crazy idea. Joined the Scare Program. Didn't work out for me. Had to make myself more relevant to the job market and conquer these computers head-on."
"Sorry to hear that Don."
Then the phone produced the noise of chattering children, prompting Don to inquire, "now how's your missus and the tykes?"
"Wonderful! We just attended the seventh grade graduation of my Pammy!" Through the phone speaker, something slammed and crashed, likely noise from the mischievous antics of Dan's children. "No Fanny, daddy has the phone now, you have to wait to talk to your friend. Put that down Vanny! And stop pulling your Vanny's hair, Sammy! Yessssssss Mammy dear, I'll wash the dishes tonight. Janny, watch out for that, don't touch tha- Oh, sorry Don, gotta go. Keep in touch and good wishes to you." And Dan hung up.
Don let the phone slip off his suction pad and swing like a pendulum toward the floor. Staring at the ceiling, he absorbed the emptiness of his apartment, until he reminded himself, he could always think of ideas, so that's what he did.
Out of a desire to share a conversation with someone, Don fancied the idea of asking his former professor Knight if he would have a beer with him as buddies. After all, even the austere Prof. Knight was no exception to the professors Don liked to engage in casual conversations with ("How's yer day? How's yer family?"), that is, if he wasn't occupied with younger students begging for due date extensions. But Don reminded himself of the unspoken boundaries between teachers and students. As a middle-aged adult, he did relate well to them, but the teachers, especially Knight, were often too occupied with the student's academic matters to develop close friendships with them. The professors were just nice acquaintances that offered an occasional casual chat.
And there was his future to consider at M.U. What else could he do on M.U. campus while he tried to engross himself in computers? Shouldn't he experience something new? There ought to be plenty of campus activities to do. He was at least fond of attending college sports events, especially with its free admission for students, but now he yearned to be part of something, anything significant. He resolved to no longer be the bystander of the great college experience.
Like a last-minute job opportunity, Don considered that Frat/Sorority Poster in the café. Despite his limited knowledge in Greek Life, he could not shake off curiosity. With years of computers ahead of him, it could give him something else to do. Tomorrow, he will venture out into a neighborhood into his part-time job of door-to-door selling, and after that, he will visit the Office of Greek Life to sample that opportunity.
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
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.
Spot the homage to Pete Docter's Up (and thus a homage to Scott's voice actor Peter Sohn)!
Last Edit: Jun 20, 2014 10:35:29 GMT -6 by avakane
Viewing a map of Frat/Row, all houses seem to occupy those who have fundings.
I posted the question on tvtropes a while back: "Considering that Oozma Kappa is situated in the Squibbles's household in a normal neighborhood off-campus, not the on-campus Frat Row, how is this housing standard permitted for fraternities/sororities in Universities? And I find it curious that Hardscrabble later tells Sully to leave campus (and even Mike had to leave eventually), even though it seems Oozma Kappa live in a off-campus neighborhood."
And I got this reply:
Frat houses don't necessarily have to be on campus, just near campus. Frat Row is probably reserved for higher status frats, ones that have sponsorships, etc. As long as the house itself meets whatever standards the school has for frat houses, it can be one. And once a house is considered a frat house, it's officially part of the school, meaning if you get kicked out of school, you're kicked out of the frat.
So basically, the Squibbles's domestic household must have been registered to follow some of the campus protocol (apparently this included evicting Sulley and Mike when they were expelled)
How Mrs. Squibbles's house was selected is left up to speculation.
I'm surprised that this is seldom discussed among the fandom. This topic seems shunted aside to discuss Johnny Worthington, Randall, and to a lesser extent Hardscrabble.
Even viewing the movie, I was questioning whether the film was going to bring up how this fraternity got started. What is a mature student doing here? How did it get established in Mrs. Squibbles's house.
I do have this secret but stretch of a wish that Pixar would make a short TV special that covers their origin story.
Chapter 3: 1st Draft of "Champ Victor" Prof. Tulley's Prompt: Write third-person POV prose about a despicable, vile character. Not a cartoonish supervillain, but someone who can exist in real-life Explore him or her. Base him/her on anybody you know and make an attempt to understand this character and his/her deeds. This can be an exercise in writing unreliable narrators. This draft will be conceptual. It will take a few drafts to perfect a challenging premise.
By Terry Perry
The party would be a disaster without the losers, thought the bullish fraternity President as he admired himself in the silver of the trophy's reflection in the Hallway of Accomplishments.
Gazing before his impeccably polished trophy of last year's victory, he flashed his trademark devilish grin that could produce a child's scream worth five energy canisters. He was scarlet and broad-chested, accentuated by the dark-crimson sweater bearing the golden fraternity initials. He had two great horns protruding from the melon of his head. By goodness, he exercised his right to flaunt these qualities before the school.
His name was Champ Johnathan Victor the Third. His broadly brutish appearance was granted by biological birthright rather than effort. Other than his scarlet color, he perfectly resembled his father, who was immortalized by a grand painted illustration on the over-sized portrait on the wall next to the trophy, a grayish-dull purple, who bore his Scarer-frown the wall, a Scarer among the portraits of other Scarers, relatives and ancestors of his fraternity brothers.
"We totally got them!" came an excited cry from down the Hall. "As according to plan!" the voice squealed.
His girlfriend scurried down the hallway toward him and into his open arms. Jackie Nami, a slender blue humanoid monster with a cheerleader flare had searingly red eyes to get lost in. Although his parents were opposed to his relationship with one of the daintier-sized women ("Son, with her body type, how can she breed the best Fourth Victor?"), there was something in her feisty and girly temper that charmed him, the way a predator lured its prey to its venomous grip. She could sire the Fourth Victor indeed someday.
She had invited the loser fraternity to lure them into their trap. Logically, they traditionally pranked the rival group, the one most likely to snag 2nd Place. But the progress of the loser-frat won the intrigue of the school. It somehow drew their attention away from his frat accomplishments. Now this particular team had it in their heads that they will seize 1st Place and dethrone the five-times-in-a-row victories of Champ's frat.
That had to be fixed. And a loser-frat that survived a few rounds of the Game? A once in a lifetime opportunity for them, a once in a lifetime opportunity for delusions of grandeur, a once in a lifetime opportunity to sternly remind the underdogs of their place in the monster world.
He finally tore his prideful grin from his trophy to swing his trophy girlfriend into the air.
"The prank is on, pass it on," they whispered to Alec, his right-man hand and Vice President, a stout crab figure with pincers that shined like the medal and crawlers that thumped on the hardwood floor. So Alec gleefully passed it on to the rest of their brothers. To Juevo, the beetle, to Pat, to Jake, and the freshmen recruit, the violet chameleon, Rex, who had the ability to blend into his environment.
And they passed it on to the arriving party guests, who were gladly in on the joke.
The guests partied, laughed, and mused about their weekend plans as Champ and his brothers worked behind the scenes, arranging the props.
And as promised by Jackie, the loser fraternity, all six bodies of the members, did make their entrance and all eyes turned on them. The leader of the loser-frat was one small Cyclops, his shortness matched by a blob monster. One was an older member, the founder of the loser-frat. He must be a desperate, pathetic one perhaps undergoing a mid-life crisis. And there was a conjoined-twins with dopey expressions. Then there was a bizarrely arch shaped monster with an aloof grin. But most baffling to Champ was a larger furry fellow built for Scaring, who somehow made the misguided choice of joining the loser-frat.
How idiotic they were to accept the invitation (although he was both offended and understanding that they fell for Jackie's smile). Not even one of their teammates had any courtesy to prevent them from going. They couldn't resist the opportunity to taste popularity. They were the desperate bunch, seeking anyone, even the unskilled to add to their circle of mediocrity.
They looked as if they were about to bolt out, perhaps overwhelmed by the staring eyes. At first, Champ fancied the amusement of watching them flee. But no no, all their hard work will go to waste if they left.
So Champ extended his hand in a grand welcoming gesture. On cue, the room applauded their entrance. Alec heartily winked at him as he clapped his claws.
So the loser frat danced, partied, got dared to sip from red cups of booze, which they refused, because they were goody-two-shoes that way. For a while, it appeared that they were part of the community.
And finally, the revelry ended. It was time for Champ to formally present and congratulate those who made it far in the Games. Champ saved the best for last, praising the loser-frat, pretending in those few seconds that he respected them.
He raised his congratulatory hand to them. That was the signal. And from the ceiling, everything was dumped upon the six members. Pink goop of various colors, glitter, and even stuffed animals. So ridiculous that no school administration would take it seriously to reprimand or investigate. Champ's brothers came down from their positions to join in with the laughter.
The jeering echoed as they watched them frozen in their fear, trying not to slip on the goop. The sudden wailing of smallest one, obviously the baby of the group, provoked more violent laughter. That large furry guy had to catch the small blob guy to prevent him from slipping. The losers had that hilariously astonished shame plastered over their faces. It was like they were playing along with the joke too. Not even Alec's snapshot could immortalize the preciousness of this moment! It was glorious to see it for real.
Champ's pompous laughter reverberated throughout the walls of the house, bellowing along with Jackie's shrill giggles, triumphant in the brutality.
The losers were naturally the first to leave, trudging out under the weight of the prank items.
His brothers were getting ready for bed. Alec was amusing about the priceless snapshots, preparing to pass them around campus for their amusement.
Champ took one ritualistic gaze at his trophy in the Hall of Achievements. It was still there, proud on its chestnut pedestal.
He rubbed his chin, satisfied. His reflection may have been curved on the roundness of the trophy. But he still got it. He could still see himself clearly. The disarming grin that scared up a storm. The grin that won Jackie over.
But what was that? A smudge on the polished silver. A flimsy fingerprint or two, right on the center, like a mild blemish on his cheek.
Damn it! What damn monster would touch his stuff? He knew he should have tacked on that DO NOT TOUCH sign. But honestly, with regal architecture that radiated a do-not-touch sophistication, you would think his admirers would have the courtesy to lay off their grubby paws, hand, tentacles. The only right wannabes had to his prizes was to look, not touch.
Critique: Terry, forgive me for being personal, but I have a hunch. I know what incident this is based on, having remembered a particular Campus Roar article. I offer condolences to you and the team. And that's good, you're stealing from your own life to make stories.
But to offer an objective review, your protagonist needs more substance as he is a caricature. In the context of your story, Champ is one-dimensional. He comes off as a classic 80s pop villain (with mild traces of depth in his relationship with his parents). That's not to say these sorts of monsters don't exist, but they are more compelling when they are believable, whether its an accurate or even fictional representation. Don't get rid of the brutish traits, but throw in moments that make him more relatable.
Even bad guys are not without dimensions. Usually, these dimensions come in the form of pity, sympathy, and maybe even likability. Note that I'm not saying that they should be an excuse for their actions, but rather offer an understanding. Where can you start? Perhaps with the side-characters as I noticed you skimp over their qualities. Have their interaction serve a character. Give a sense of history between these characters. Let those traces of depth subtly take some precedence over the story.
I also feel this story lacks heavy tension. It builds up to the inevitable prank and that's it. What does Champ have at stake?
If you ever return to this draft, I look forward to seeing what you have next.
Say, let's have a little fun thinking up what sort of essay prompts would students get at MU
What I'm thinking so far
- The diverse biology of monsters
- History of Scream
- the evolution of monsters
- Scare techniques - the philosophy of a Fearlogian about where fear originated from. Nothingness or a higher power. (I lifted this out of the MU website) - the pros and cons of Scream and Laugh energy
sturdy in its inflexible, immobile spine of stiffness suspended rack-arms the spider of its legs posed on hardwood let them hang and shroud items on you blinding you with a furry coat, a cashmere, a demi jacket compacted sawdust of molecues so packed that no one thinks of its agony, its eternal arthritis.
Cursed by illogical anatomy constricted limbs How do they ever dance? Their deadly toxicity is nature's way of compensating for the restraint of their biology Two eyes, two legs, one mouth, one head a lungful of scream.
A Conjoined-Twins Pigeon
The elder and taller head, heavier than the younger other, who was friskier than its brother Other than body, blood, and heart, they shared the wanting to tear themselves into independent halves and will themselves to defy their biological fate and grow another wing each to take flight on their separate ways. against wind and over oceans. They would keep in touch by singing thousands of miles away from each other as a reminder of each other's existence. But nature cursed and bounded them, and they would never have the strength to tear themselves apart.
Last Edit: Apr 25, 2014 17:59:45 GMT -6 by avakane
This is a purely experimental fanfiction. So while there are certain chapters and segments planned out, please PM or post suggestions, prompts, subjects, and ideas that Terry Perry would write about. From any topical matter in the Monster World to his relationships with his friends and family. Story, essay, article prompts. They have to be prompts I can legitimately work with and fit into the context of the story.
For example, Terry might have a commentary on the MU admission rate or even the social matter of class in the Monster World. He might write poetry about something that's going on in his life.
It is notable that this is an experiment. Sometimes you might run into grammatical errors. So feel free to point them out, out but to bear in mind that I won't adjust everything for raw effect.
An article by a guest writer laid among the files of unpublished submissions to the "Campus Roar" Opinion page. Submitted three days after the Campus Roar publication of the "Cute-Ma-Kappa" front page article, the article attracted much of the staff members' eyes, inspiring them to jeering snickers, uneasy chuckles, silent guilt, or just mere apathy.
A majority of the staff deemed it unsuitable for publication for reasons best left to private conjecture. ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Opinion Page Entry: "On Competition"
I caution readers of the pessimism ahead. I would ask you to forgive it, but I cannot, especially, when M.U. has constantly justified this pessimism.
The monster culture is defined by Scaring. What drives it? Competition. As a competitor of this year's Scare Games myself, I have experienced its pros and cons of competition.
Competitive drives can be fun and handy. It teaches discipline and competency in situations of great pressure. Competition does encourage productive work. It is no coincidence that many veterans of the Scare Games, winners and losers alike, would attain successful careers in Scaring.
But there is an overlooked guideline. The Scare Games are designed "as a friendly competition," as its founder, Dean Hardscrabble, puts it. And I doubt the definition of "friendly" would involve brutally hazing other competitors. The incident at the Roar Omega Roar (ROR) fraternity party is evidence of this. My team has unfortunately have subjected to an onslaught of ridicule from competitors, but the "Cute-Ma-Kappa" incident was the height of the insults. I have grown to expect ridicule, as Oozma Kappa is admittedly not known for its prestige and we are striving to earn respect from the school. After the incident, I cannot be silent if it means watching my brothers suffer for other monsters' pettiness.
Even if the school board cared to investigate the circumstances of the prank, I have the feeling that it would not change the insensitive stance of campus students, who kept purchasing those photos for their amusement and passing them around as a fad. ROR masqueraded their bullying into a "benevolent" charity drive to pass the radar of school authorities, as if our shame was part of some higher cause and amusement of the monster culture. They escaped consequences simply because of the premeditated measures they took not be penalized. They have done this before and will do this again.
I will try my hand at understanding it. I speculate that it has something to do with competition. Could it be the fear of losing? Possibly, as every competitor, especially ROR, have positions to keep up. Their dignity is at stake. The fear of losing is natural (but also irrational if you take it too far).
But what I fail to comprehend is that ROR has reason to believe that they cannot lose. They have no reason to flaunt their sense of predetermined victory. They hold the record of most Scare Game wins, known for their lineage to legendary Scarers, and a majority of ROR members are A-Honor roll students. But do not let these particular compliments indicate that they are strong in character. These monsters belittle others because they believe it asserts their superiority. Winning or being close to winning was not enough for them so they make others, namely the "losers," suffer for their petty dissatisfaction.
I cannot decide which is more appalling. To see fellow competitors take it out on the "losers" and treat them like jokes rather than offer legit constructive criticism. Or the fact that spectators and bystanders laugh with the "joke" instead of intervening, which would perpetuate more of this heinous behavior in future Games. If M.U. celebrates this bullying, then what are we? Is this the consequence of competition?
Competition serves as a useful exercise in competency and skills. But it should not be treated as an assertion of egoism, especially when it is at the expense of others. I do not ask for sympathy, but I would appreciate some sensitivity. If you are so invested in the faults and self-esteem of others, try helping them instead of bullying them? Who are you to decide who others' "faults" are? Who are you to decide how others should react to their own faults? Want to criticize other competitors? Be constructive, not destructive. And "constructive" certainly does not involve relentless teasing and belittling. It involves a sincere concern for the work and efforts of others to enhance and improve their work and efforts, not to degrade it.
Privileges and victories are there to earn, not abuse.
Guest writer and proud Oozma Kappa brother,
Unlike other rejected guest articles, it laid among the "Campus Roar" archives, neither to be published nor disposed of.
Last Edit: Apr 25, 2014 17:45:10 GMT -6 by avakane
Here's one pet peeve that does pester me. It's a universal one: simply just the existence of bad fanfiction. They come in many forms, whether OC-driven, or canon-driven. It's usually the former though.
But the one that I take notice the most are the Randalls fics that attempt to "redeem" him in ways that excuses his behavior or make him unrealistically good somehow. I have only ran into TWO good Randall fanfics and that's saying something.
Fanfiction, I argue is an artform of (self)pandering. And that is NOT a bad thing, and in fact can lead to some exercise in writing and storytelling. In fact, it can be a way for fans to come to terms with both the strengths and flaws of their favorite works. They get to pay tribute, exercise creativity within context, and/or even "fix/revise" (realistically) what they feel are errors or shortcomings of the movie. The issue is that many writers stray from context and canon characteristics to indulge their own fantasies of the work in a way that comes off as insulting to their readers. This evil character should be good because I say so. Nothing wrong with that, but fanfic writers tend to forget to make a legit build-up.
My Top One is a three-way tie between Up, WALL-E, and Finding Nemo. Up because its such an introspective piece about the love of the simple things in life and what it really means to have an adventure in life. WALL-E, in that it is a romance told in such an extraordinary way that's sincere and retains so much humanity to its characters. Finding Nemo, because its an effective epic about father-son growing up.
The opening sequence, when Mike receives his prized hat, looks upon his idea of greatness in Frank McCray's face and decides that he wants to obtain that greatness. Even though I know well he wouldn't obtain this idea of greatness, this moment alone made me realize why Mike's story was worth telling in spite of his later failure.
The Third Act especially, when Mike and Sulley sit by the lakeside and contemplate their insecurities and their uncertain future.
Don Carlton handing Mike his revised business card, as a token of gratitude.
The concluding sequence where Mike, thinking that he'll settle for "being ok," and then Sulley popping at the bus window to refute that statement. Sure, Mike has his shortcoming of not being a Scarer, but by God, he's has an intelligence that no one should underestimate. It's not a social greatness, but its a spiritual greatness.
Toxic-dolls: Let me know if you have a skype or somewhere we can stay in touch
May 28, 2014 2:47:43 GMT -6
number1scarer: Nope no skype unfortunately but I will still be on here quite a bit and hopefully will have a tumblr again eventually I'll let you know when I get a new url. x
May 28, 2014 7:09:39 GMT -6
Budokai777 (Quick Visit): To missflint: Yeah, I agree. I don't hate you either and I feel sorry for what's happening to you. I knew other users here who experienced the same thing. Maybe if it helps, we could chat sometime?
May 28, 2014 7:19:33 GMT -6
chimeramachinations: Hey guys, just so you know I'm changing my user to chimeramachinations to match my tumblr URL. This is so that it will be easier for you to find me on Tumblr if you wish.
May 28, 2014 18:54:51 GMT -6
number1scarer: While we are on the topic of tumblr ,i have a new tumblr url now so if anyone wants it feel free to ask. I don't really feel like just posting it publicly right now.
May 28, 2014 20:03:14 GMT -6
budokai777: Summer Time!
Jun 17, 2014 7:55:41 GMT -6
toasty: Banana coasters
Jun 19, 2014 2:54:41 GMT -6
avakane: HAPPY ANNIVERSARY EVERYONE!
Jun 21, 2014 9:05:44 GMT -6
budokai777: Happy Birthday Autumnprincess, even though your not here at the moment. XD
Jun 23, 2014 9:35:07 GMT -6