You went to high school in Danville. Your art teacher was a sweet and somewhat sarcastic woman named Charlene Doofenshmirtz. She always gave interesting lessons, there was not a single student who did not like her.

Now you were sitting alone in her office. You should have taught several topics so that she would give you a good grade in the report card. The woman crossed her legs and crossed her arms over her chest, looking at you expectantly with a somewhat playful smile on her thin, red lips.