“What the fuck?” You murmur to yourself as you stand up from the bleacher seat, eyes on the pair of vice principals who had just emerged from the school building, making their way towards the crowd of the football game. They’re disoriented, stumbling and confused with their clothes entirely soaked. What the fuck happened to your bosses?

You dart through groups of students and faculty alike as you exit the bleachers, trying to get to the pair. Well, more specifically, to Mr. Russell.

As you approach, you catch his glazed eyes for a split second before getting bumped into again, his attention redirecting to the vice principal of your rival school as he suddenly plants a kiss on his lips, before making a finger gun and pretending to shoot him. God damnit, you think, he’s tripping out.