Scott Guber, by which I mean Anthony Heald, appears and wants to know why Senate is not yet in the dungeon. "I'm on my way." It's a weird question, though, as the hall is filled with students, and the bell has not yet rung. That's like demanding to know where your meal is as soon as you sit down in the restaurant, isn't it?
Next, Anthony Heald runs into the school bully in the hallway. Blah blah blah discipline-cakes, and when the bully, whom I now recognize one of the kids from Home Improvement, won't look him in the eye, Anthony Heald is all, "Do we need to work on eye contact? You will continue looking at me until further notice." And the stare-down begins. Throughout this conversation, other students walk by, and for some reason they all act as though an administrator speaking to a student in the hallway is the strangest thing they have ever seen. Everyone waves their arms, shakes their heads in disbelief, staring aghast. It's really odd, because there is nothing at all unusual about this conversation. Until they start to stare at each other in silence, at which point all the passersby start ignoring them. Clearly, the extras are being directed by an utter moron. At this point, Anthony Heald starts to remind me of the T-1000 for some reason.
Lauren chases down a girl in the hallway, whose name is apparently Cheryl. We know that she's really smart, but kind of an outcast, because she's wearing glasses. Lauren wants to talk to her about her website. Oh, right, this must be Cheryl Holt, the internet geek, who has made poor Milton so upset. The glasses should have tipped me off. Anyway, Lauren says that the horse anus thing has "really hurt Mr. Buttle's feelings." Oh, god, the clown hair, and the first name Milton, are not enough, right? His last name has to have the word "butt" in it. Cheryl says, "You know, I've got six pages on the upcoming election. I've got two pages on the Supreme Court. I've got another page on human rights. I fire one Lit teacher out of a horse's rump, and that's all anyone wants to talk about."
I like, incidentally, how the number of pages she has devoted to each topic are inversely proportional to their importance. Ms. Davis wonders if Cheryl might find a hobby other than this "web thing," which is a both condescending and ignorant thing to say, so she kind of deserves it when Cheryl's all, "I could join the Gwyneth club, would that be good?" She gestures to a group of skinny blondes in the corner. "Ms. Davis, I have ninety students working for me. I'm already more successful than you, and I -- I'm sorry, I didn't mean that…" Oh, but she's right. Ms. Souter appears and summons Lauren to a parent-teacher meeting. And here comes the ubiquitous preview clip. ("Ms. Souter, you finished first in the poll." "What poll?" "Which teacher the male students want to sleep with most." "Oh, how nice." To Lauren: "You were seventh." Lauren, outraged: "Seventh?") Ms. Souter drags Lauren down the hall, but she makes sure we know that her priorities are straight: "The girls think I'm a nun. The boys: seventh." Ms. Souter offers small comfort: "Well, you're first on his list." Down the now nearly empty hall, Anthony Heald is still staring down the bully. The bell rings.