MOD, our heroine, is seen being dragged kicking and screaming down a long tiled hall. At the end of the hall is a reddish-lit room filled with many cells-er-cubicles, ruled over by two demonic guards. Mariachi music plays in the background
Guard 1: Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.
MOD: Dear God, what is this vile place?
Guard 2: Quiet, you. One does not speak of religion in DMC. It may be offensive to others.
MOD: I'm in hell, aren't I? I don't remember dying.
Guard 1: Well, yes-
(Guard 1 is elbowed by Guard 2.)
Guard 2: Dost thou remember cutting class last Monday?
MOD: But she kicked me out! I didn't cut!
Guard 1: We received word from one of our minions-
(Guard 1 is again elbowed by Guard 2)
Guard 1: teachers that you left class for (gasp) forty-five seconds!
Guard 2: So for your punishment, wretch, we shall take you out of even more classes! HAHAHAHAHA!
MOD: But?
Guard 2: To your cell-er-desk, cutter!
MOD: But-
(MOD is dragged off to her cell-er-desk and chained there)
MOD: Don't I get a bathroom break?
Guard 1: You will get a thirty second break at four AM and nine PM.
MOD: A drink?
Guard 2: No.
MOD: But it's hot in here.
(Guard 2 slams down a man-high stack of papers in front of MOD.)
Guard 2: Start copying.
(MOD whimpers and starts writing)
Rules
1) No talking
2) No walking around the room
3) No drinking
4) No sleeping
5) No eating
6) No breathing
7) No freedom of thought
MOD: (aside) This bites.
Guard 1: No talking! (cracks a whip near MOD's ear.)
MOD: AAAAH!
Guard 1: NO TALKING! (cracks whip again)
MOD: AAAAAAAAAH!
Guard 2: Give me that! (snatches whip from Guard 1)
Both guards turn around as a new victim enters their grasp.
Guard 2: (aside) Welcome to my parlor… (to victim) Do you have your pass from Sata-Mr. Garcia?
Victim: Not really. He just started rambling about respect and jobs and how he got fired for saying bleep to his boss. But he gave me this. (Holds up sheet of paper, signed with blood)
Guard 2: (snatches the sheet) Ha! Now you are mine!
(Guard 1 grabs Victim and chains him to a hook on the wall)
Guard 2: Your punishment for cursing in the presence of a teacher is this. You will stand and curse at the wall all day. Hahahahaha! And because you were late, you will stay even longer! Ha! (aside) I do so love my job. (to Victim) Start cursing!
Bored out of her wits, MOD finds herself drawn into growing despair…
MOD: (writes) A person who cuts class will grow up to become an unsuccessful person who will be unable to make decisions on his own. He will spend his life flipping burgers at Burger King and die of a crack overdose while sleeping out in a park on a cold winter's night. (aside) What is this drivel? Do they really think we're that stupid? (sighs and cracks knuckles)
Guard 1: Hey! (points to list of rules)
48) No cracking knuckles
(Mod sighs and turns back to writing again)
MOD: (writes) Write a story about one of the following characters, and the consequences of their cutting. (thinks) Hmm…(writes) Character A: Sherri was an actress in the school musical. Due to stress caused by hectic schedules and grueling homework, Sherri started cutting classes to make up work.
"Sherri lay on her bed doing her Algebra homework. If she had been in class like she should have been, she would be doing laps in the gym. Now she was being productive and getting important things done. True, her grade in PE would fall, but who cared about gym anyway? The radio played loudly, keeping her awake to finish the last of her homework. Suddenly, the announcer said 'Be caller number 42 now, and you can win four million dollars!' Sherri snatched up the phone and dialed. 'You are caller 42, your name please?' Sherri jumped up and down. She had just won four million dollars, all because she had cut class."
Guard 1 and Guard 2 come around with a cart bearing steaming bowls of unidentifiable stuff. Guard 2 looks down at MOD's paper.
Guard 2: What is this? (snatches paper) You can't write things like this! It's supposed to have bad consequences!
MOD: It didn't say that!
Guard 2: It doesn't matter. You'll have to rewrite it. Here. (hands her a second stack, nearly three feet high)
MOD: No…
Guard 1: Lunch time. Five dollars.
MOD: Five dollars? It'd better be good for that much. (hands money to Guard 1)
Guard 1 sloshes down a bowl of grayish gruel before MOD and drops a hard roll of bowling ball bread next to it. Another small crack appears in the desk under it.
MOD: (queasily) What…what is that?
Guard 2: Gruel.
MOD: Gruel! I paid five dollars for gruel?
Guard 1: Yep.
Guard 2 is pocketing the money
MOD: Hey!
Guard 1: No talking!
MOD: Grrr…(aside) That's all I can stands, I can't stands no more!
MOD grabs a bottle of Dr Pepper from her backpack and downs the entire twenty ounces in one gulp. Feeling energized, she dribbles her bowl of gruel on her chains. The acidic gunk eats through the chains.
MOD: Heehee…
Guard 1: Hey! (points to rules)
79) No laughing
MOD: (laughing inside) Sorry.
MOD grabs her chunk of bowling ball bread and sneaks up behind Guard 1. She slams the rock hard bread down on the demon's head, knocking him out. She takes his whip and sneaks up on Guard 2. He is busy poking the Victim with a pitchfork.
MOD: 'scuse me?
Guard 2 turns in time to see a battered piece of bread slamming into his head before all goes dark. MOD grabs her money from his pocket and runs for the door.
MOD: Free at last! I'm going home!
MOD turns and heads for the door, but runs into a short beaver-ish looking woman in shorts, wearing a whistle. MOD's eyes widen.
MOD: AAAAH!
To be continued in:
MOD Battles the Evil Gym Coach
