It's so great that Gerald Fitzgerald has been ressurected and is aimlessly wandering around campus! Mr. Manadult was not who he/they appeared to be. The toilet situation is crappy—pun unfortunately intended. It's plastic bag awareness month; students, prepare yourselves for a three-hour mandatory lecture on safety when cinching. Don't accept the wrapper-less caramels from Drewann McDermott's pockets. Better yet, don't make eye contact. Music by David Petty @ davidpetty.bandcamp.com Additional writing on Fist Formers Only was done by Julian Bucklin and Sammy City. Check out my website for memes and more! Vice Principal Mr. Jonesandmi's song this month is The Way I Heat Your Meal, a parody of Michael Jackson's The Way You Make Me Feel. Lyrics: Hey, lazy bachelor with sweat pants on. You push my buttons with an apathetic frown. I warm your products of loneliness. Jimmy Dean, hungry man, and Bush's Best. I feel your thumb press and swell with pride. My door swings open, and you shove your meat inside. Just close me, baby, give me some time. My motor's revving for The way I heat your meal (Spaghetti-Os congealed). You get me powered on (and take a hit from the bong). The way you come when I beep (my harvest can be reaped). Your motivation's dead (but appetite is fed). This pizza pocket you placed in me Is molten hot via electricity. Oh, I'll be nuking this kid cuisine. Dino nuggies, fries, corn, cosmic brownie. I've never served a more pathetic dweeb. When hungry for Italian food picks chef Boyardee. The frozen center of this chicken pot pie Is an allegory for The way your heart can't feel (the way I warm your meal). I really turn your food (and overheat heat your stew). This can of Campbell's chunky (explodes inside of me). My cleanliness is gone (that didn’t take too long). The contents of my body satiate. Open me early, baby, there's no time to wait. Partially cooked still counts as cooked. You shrug your shoulders and begin To eat your luke warm creole (I somewhat warm your meal). Erupted casserole (spewing burrito bowl). You put DiGiorno in me (FOR THE LOVE OF GOD GET DELIVERY). My landfill days are near (I just want out of here). The way I warm your meal (technically not raw veal). Blue cheese is burnt in me (and you just leave it be). You knock on me when I don't heat. [KNOCKING ON MICROWAVE SOUND] "No! Come on! My chicken breast is still pink! *sigh* Oh, who am I kidding? I like it better this way."