Shout-out to queengeek.
Adam's leaning against a locker, talking to Joan. Luke's sitting on the floor behind them, leaning against another locker. Adam tells Joan that her mom showed his work to the dean of the graphic arts department at State College, and the dean thought it was good enough for the professional program. Joan: "At least one of us has a future." Yeah. What sort of future can you expect, really, when all you've got going for you is a direct pipeline to God? There's frantic banging from within a locker and Luke says, "Locksmith's on his way, Friedman. Just hang in there." Heh. I so hope Grace put him in there. Friedman: "Dude, you said that five minutes ago when there was oxygen in here!" Adam points out that the night classes are $500 a credit. Joan: "They must have scholarships! You're brilliant! The dean guy even said so." Adam cites budget cuts and a lack of money for the arts. Friedman bangs some more, complaining, "Hello? I'm starting to cramp in here." Joan loses patience and kicks the locker, barking, "Friedmanstopcomplaining!" Some kid we've never seen before (who reminds me slightly of an older version of the kid -- Billy? -- from School of Rock who ends up as the costume designer; I think it's the voice) comes along handing out flyers, saying, "Elizabeth Goetzman you loved her in Godspell. Now she's ready for the role of a lifetime!" He wanders off as a pathologically chipper blonde in a pink neckerchief (God, what an ugly word) with a plastic star pinned to her shirt comes along and implores them, "Hey, you guys, vote for me, or I will die." Hmm. Seems like a pretty sweet deal: I don't have to do anything, and we get rid of you? Sign me up. Way to stimulate voter apathy. Adam and Joan have no idea what to say to any of those. Joan just gives her head a shake and tells Adam how sorry she is about his predicament. He shrugs: "I'll just have to wait around for college like everyone else."
Some more loudmouths come along, and Luke mutters, "Ah, the Neanderthals who did this," referring to the lockerization of Friedman. They seem to be the henchmen of some jock named Lars. They kill themselves laughing about Friedman and rip down some other candidate's poster. Lars weakly discourages them, saying that's enough. Joan glares at them, pissed, as they walk off. Further down the hall, she sees one of the maintenance guy Gods. I can't remember what I called this one. There are several janitorial/maintenance/groundskeeping/custodial staff Gods, and I can't keep them straight anymore. No, not even with a spreadsheet. Not without pictures, anyway. Somebody set up (or point me to) a Joan of Arcadia avatar website with screencaps, wouldja? That's a dear. We'll just call this one Locksmith God. Joan marches down the hall -- dude, what is that skirt she's wearing? It looks like some kind of duck print over plaid -- toward Locksmith God, who apologizes and tells her there was a "filing cabinet crisis in the biology lab." His uniform says "Carl." Which means "one who is strong." Joan gestures to the locker containing Friedman and asks, "So?" He tells her not to worry: "These lockers are surprisingly well-ventilated." Bummer. He hands her a sheaf of papers: "I think you dropped these." Joan takes them: "Oh, so the Supreme Being cares about student council elections? It's not like some kid is gonna invade a country!" Well, G.H.W. Bush's kid did. Locksmith God: "I care about anything that involves free will." Joan: "Most people exercise their free will by not voting." He tells her, "You have a chance to make a difference here." He drifts off with a two-fingered Godwave. Joan has her usual just-got-an-assignment-from-God expression. Somebody comes along and hands her a "Vote for Lars" button featuring Lars holding a football and staring heroically toward the fifty-yard line. (If that didn't make any sense, just rewrite it in your head and pretend I'm someone who knows or cares about football.) She looks bummed. Theme song.