Kyle Atop Mount Silverheels

Spoiled, Spoiled Bastards

"You're supposed to be in detention, little man."

"Oh geez..." Stan sighed.

There's a cut to Stan in the principal's office again.

"Listen, PC Principal, I was just seeing my friend."

"I don't want to hear any of your excuses, ok? You've insulted our school's staff and now you've evaded lunch detention. The only appropriate punishment for this would be...beef."

"What?" Stan mumbled

"Stan, you have to make beef wellington for the entire school."

"WHAT?" Stan tilted his head clockwise, if had tilted it anymore his neck would've snapped guaranteed.
Stan thought to himself for a moment What can I do to convince PC Principal to let me go...
"What if I can't afford to make that much beef wellington?"

"With the entitlement you've shown me here at this school, you absolutely can afford it. After all, your father does own Tegridy Weed."

"Yeah...but I LIVE IN A BARN! And my dad smokes more than he sells...entitlement isn't a sure fire way of knowing if someone is literally rich enough to feed an entire school! This is ridiculous! I'm not doing that." Stan crossed his arms in annoyance.

"Ok, well you either obey the rules of this school, or you get expelled," PC Principal's front teeth whistled.

"I—Where in the school rule book does it say that I have to cook beef wellington for the entire school? HUH?" Stan was livid.

PC Principal ducked down and pulled out a red book with a yellow title from under his desk. He took a pink sparkly ultra gay pen from behind one of his ears and scribbled in the book.
Stan frowned. PC Principal turned the book around so Stan could see what he wrote.
Spoiled, spoiled bastards who insult faculty need to make beef wellington for the school. Emphasis on the period.
Stan looked around PC Principal's writing and read aloud: "The worst part was, the jerk had one of those very phony, Ivy League voices, one of those very tired, snobby voices—KILL JOHN LENNON KILL JOHN LENNON!!!"
PC Principal flinched in his chair. Stan shook his head and looked away from the book.
"Dude, that's just Catcher in the Rye. Speaking of phony, does this school even have any solid rule book or any rules at all? Because it seems like I'm always just following yours... and you seem to be making things up as you go."
PC Principal breathed through his mouth.
"Stan, give me one reason I shouldn't expel you right now."

"Because I'll find a better school, go into a higher education, and kick your ass with my Bugatti?"

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.
.

"Just make the beef wellington, Stan."

"Fine, be that way," Stan muttered, pouting with his face sagging like a pug--his pants sagging too on the way out like an alleyway Soundcloud rapper.
How the hell was he going to make over 1,000 beef wellingtons---1,734 not even counting the teachers!
Stan practically fell on one of the hallway benches, his head reeling. And he had to tell his cooking maniac of a father that.

.
.
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Who was he kidding, his dad would love to make 1,734 beef wellingtons, especially since he's so manic, Stan was upset because he knew his dad would make him help, which meant he couldn't be there to support his friend Kyle in a time when he really needed it.

Stan sighed and pulled out his phone.

I don't think I'll be at school for a while  he typed.

What, why?  Kyle typed back.