The Brat Pack

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

"Dammit!" Vernon yells from his computer, quickly closing out his game – uh, important educational folders that require much use of the spacebar – and goes out into the main office.

"Where the hell are all the secretaries?" Vernon shouts to the empty office, looking around.

Buzz.

He stands on his toes to peer through the window, his face going dark as he spots the piece of trash standing at the door. He has half a mind not to let the fucker in.

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ.

Vernon presses the brown button with a huff and hears the door click, John Bender swinging it open and waltzing up to the front desk.

"Dick!" Bender calls, opening his arms wide. "Where's the lovely Mrs. Orvitz today? She always signs my late passes," he says with a pout.

"Cut the shit, Bender." Vernon looks at the clock, a smile on his lips. "Why, it's already eight-thirty. A bit late today, are we not?"

Bender shrugs one shoulder, stretching out and yawning. Vernon slaps a yellow pass on the desk, scribbling in Bender's name and time in black ink.

"Don't forget," he tells Bender, holding the pass out between two fingers, "detention Saturday."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Dick," Bender says, snatching up the pass and heading into the hall.

Vernon stares after him, muttering "prick" under his breath as he walks around the office, finally coming to the intercom. He presses it, turning it on and leaning towards it.

"Andrew Clark and Brian Johnson, please report to Mr. Vernon's office immediately."

He switches the intercom off, going back into his office and slamming the door.