My First Foray Into Fandom

In the world of Daria Fandom Fanfition they have challenges for writing called Iron Chefs.

The topic came over from another discuss, but was turned into an Iron Chef and goes liked this:

Mack visits Jodie at the soup kitchen, Jodie is angry instead of disappointed, upset that Mack gets to take the last few weeks off while she works the most grueling weeks of her schedule. Mack's reasons for quitting, including paying his father off, fall on deaf ears, and he never gets the chance to invite her to Chez Pierre. She breaks it off, and Mack is kicked to the Curb. By the time school starts, everyone knows that Mack is available.

Let the games begin.

My first thought was more along this line, but without the clever ending.

I wanted to one-up the insanity level in my ficlit:

Michael practically stumbled into Mr. O'Neill's empty classroom. Lunch wouldn't be over for another fifteen minutes, but he couldn't take it anymore. All those girls trying to throw themselves at him, it was flattering, but also disgusting and exhausting.

He dropped into his usual desk and put his head down. He tried not to think about it, about anything.

He heard the door open and sighed. Who tracked him down here? Who, besides himself, would voluntarily come into a classroom during lunch? Of course, if the stall in the bathroom wasn't a safe place, why should this be any different?

"Mack," said Mr. O'Neill, "what are you doing here?"

Michael looked up and said, "Nothing. Just relaxing before class."

"So you'll be in here until class starts?"

"If it's okay with you?"

"Of course," said Mr. O'Neill, smiling. "I'll be right back."

Michael thought he heard an "Oh, boy!" come from his teacher as he hurried out the door. It must have been his imagination, though.

He put his head back on the desk.

A minute or so later, the door opened and closed again. The dead bolt snapped into place.

He jerked his head up and saw Ms. Barch leaning on Mr. O'Neill's desk, pulling her blouse out of her skirt. "Skinny," she said, slapping her hand on the desk, "let's get this party started."

"Oh, my," said Mr. O'Neill.