♪ (dramatic music) ♪
- (Chris) Dad?
- W-what? Ow!
- I knew it. You're emo again.
- Jiminy Christmas, you scared me, Chris.
I'm not emo. I was just making you breakfast.
God!
- God!
- Good! (both chuckle)
- Oh. Are you sure you're okay, though, Dad?
- Of course. I start a new job today and everything.
From now on, my life is back to normal.
♪ (woeful music) ♪
♪ (chipper music) ♪ (birds chirp)
- (man on PA) Attention, students.
This is your Principal Meister.
Not Yourster, but Meister.
Oh god, that was terrible.
Uh, welcome to your first day of school this year.
After class, be sure to pick an after-school club,
or live a lonely, sad life.
Also, Chris, please pick a seat already.
(school bell rings)
- Mind if I sit here?
- (listlessly) Nah.
- (Meister) Students, please welcome your new teacher.
He's smart, well read, and good in bed.
(laughs) I'm just kidding about that last one.
Just seeing if you were paying attention.
- Dad? This is your new job?
- Surprise! I hope you're not upset.
- Upset?
(iffily) Having you for a teacher is going to be...
pretty cool, I bet.
♪ (touching ditty) ♪
- Hey, why are you sitting up here instead of with your friends?
♪ (melancholic ditty) ♪
- It was a weird summer for us.
♪ (serene music) ♪ (crowd cheering)
YeeaAAAAahh!
♪ (somber music) ♪
♪ (serene music) ♪
♪ (somber music) ♪
Come on, guys! The water's great!
(wave crashes)
- God, my makeup's coming off.
- Mine too.
- Wait. Kyle? You're Asian?
- Chris, I'm breaking up with you.
♪ (woeful music) ♪
- (David) All right, class.
Who's ready to dive into some Walt Whitman?
(bats flutter, emos hiss)
♪ (tranquil music) ♪
- So then I was like, "I'm not steampunk prep, you eejit.
I'm steampunk homeless."
- Hey, you're looking for new writers?
- No.
- But your sign says...
- Okay, maybe we are.
But we're not looking for emos.
Emos are our sworn enemies. Everybody knows that.
- I'm not emo. I'm a recovering emo.
- Well, if you want to join the newspaper,
we need a writing sample. Topic of our choosing.
- All right. Shoot.
- Write us an article
renouncing emo culture.
(gulp)
♪ (dramatic music) ♪
We only accept submissions
written by a typewriter by candlelight.
- I don't want to dis on anyone.
- Figures. See you around, polo.
- If you mention this was my idea to anyone, I will expel you.
You shut it down.
- Jasmine, can we talk?
- (contemptuously) What for? I'm dating someone else now.
- What? Who?
- Kyle. - WHAT?
(smooching and slobbering)
- God.
♪ (serene music) ♪
- "Oh so many days, such a bore.
Slamming many..." uh...
(door slams)
"Door!" Perfect. You okay, Chris?
- I have no friends, and the love of my life is dating Kyle.
I just feel so hurt.
- I found that writing can help you process the pain.
Wait a sec.
(door opens, objects clattering)
Ah. I haven't used this in years...
kinda like everything else in the closet.
(typewriter clacking)
I'll leave you to it then.
- Hey, Dad?
- Yeah?
- Thanks.
♪ (music escalates) ♪
♪ (woeful orchestral music) ♪