Chapter Text
Danny rubs his hand down his face before glaring down at the paper again. Normally, he wouldn't really give half a shit what option won, seeing as normally he'd avoid participating in this kind of thing entirely. Unfortunetly, Danny's grades are still solidly shit, better than they used to be, but still not exactly great. His grades are just good enough that he won't get laughed out of every single college in the tristate area, but not good enough for him to actually get accepted anywhere. Considering he wants to try and get at least one college certification, he needs to get his grades up. Meaning he can't afford to miss out on extra credit... extra credit that he does actually stand a chance at getting anyways. He's not nearly brain-dead enough to try signing up for the math olympics, or whatever Jazz said it was called; he would suck so bad and just embarrass himself horrifically.
Granted... this isn't much less embarrassing. Danny knows he can do it, and do it well; he and Ember haven't gotten close for nothing after all. Sure, that was more about him not wanting to either get knocked on his ass by his wail or accidentally kill someone with said wail. He really shouldn't have been surprised that vocal training with her turned into outright singing lessons; she was a singer at the end of the day, after all. Even Danny knows he's got damn good range too, still got a little bit of his young little boy high notes and Dan's deep baritones. Is it traumatic to hear that from his own vocal cords? Yeah, just a touch. He also wouldn’t have put it past that psychopath to start singing while killing people, purely to be dramatic; meaning the act of singing doesn’t really make him feel any better about his voice, at the end of the day.
Shaking his head harshly and refocusing on the paper in front of him, right now he should just be focusing on deciding what musical he wants to vote for, and thus have to suffer through actually participating in. Rather than the most traumatic day of his entire life, only rivalled by his own literal death.
…
He was so not doing anything remotely Shakespearean purely on principle, and to annoy Lancer for all but making him do this shit. Lancer knows he needs the extra credit, and Danny knows the man knows that. If Epic the Musical was on here, he'd probably pick that one, but that's too 'new age' for Lancer's tastes. Technically, Danny could probably talk the man into it, but that would absolutely result in Lancer expecting him to be even more involved in this whole show. Hard pass.
Sighing again at the paper, you know what, though? He could be funny and mean, and vote for goddamn Cats, obviously the show would follow the original play and not the horrific movie, but making everyone wear terrible cat suits and reminding them of the movie's existence would be pretty hilarious, actually. Oh, and he'll get to mock Tucker with a bunch of furry jokes. Also he’s pretty sure that musical is about death or something? So it’s very on brand for his spooky ass. Yup, Danny's sold on his choice now. Will it win? probably not, but oh well.
Danny stares down at a nice shiny new paper, flabbers gasted, chuckling and muttering to himself, "holy shit, it actually won". He’s honestly not sure how? He could see maybe one other person voting for it as a joke.
Lindsey glares at him from her desk next to him, "oh so you're part of why that monstrosity won. ugh".
Star sighing, "you know girl, the original is actually pretty good. Just suuuuuuuper long".
Danny smirks, "I vote we do the movie version". Please let no one take him up on that.
"NO!".
Even Lancer shakes his head, "most definitely not, Daniel". Danny just shrugs, can't blame a guy for trying, especially when Danny doesn't even want to get stuck doing that version either. Lancer clearing his throat, "I'll allow you all to pick your rolls, but no one is to be taking on more than two significant character rolls, preferably only one".
Paulina huffing daintily, "I vote only people who can actually sing should be allowed more than one".
"Ms. Sancheez, there will be no bullying your classmates for their vocal prowess during this, please". Multiple people sigh, knowing that the girl absolutely will be doing that.
Todd puts up a hand, "I vote we make sure Danny has to do two, make him work for those extra credits". Danny hurls a pencil at the kid who smirks at him, "what? You're the one who actually needs it, otherwise you would absolutely be skipping". Danny hates that the guy's right. Damn him.
... Danny is so going to owe Ember a thank you gift for her past self saving him from some major singing related embarasment, isn't he? Smirking, "then I vote we all have to wear the skin tight suits, floppy tails and weird costumes". See Danny spends enough time in a skin-tight suit to not care or ever really notice, but everyone else? hell no. He's not remotely surpised almost everyone in the room starts groaning at him, groaning even louder when Lancer nods approvingly.
Emily smacking a hand on her desk, "oh Danny has to be the old cat lady who dies, 'cause we have to kill the alive Danny".
Danny making a face, "I'm not a woman, though".
"You will cross-dress and be happy about it".
Well... at least this won't be the first, or even twentieth, time he's had to cross-dress for some reason or another. Why is his life like this? "So I'm going to have to wear a ratty fur coat in heels? You suck". Or better yet, they can just make the character a guy… though fine it’s funny he’s playing the dying, or half dead already, character.
"Why do you even know her outfit off of the top of your head?".
"I'm lazy but not so lazy that I can't watch a goddamn musical movie. And if ya'll are sticking me in heels then I call dibs on that black and white Mistofo-whatever guy". Danny was down for voting for things purely for a good joke, but he did want to actually mildly know what he was signing up for. So fine, he watched the musical, sue him.
Someone muttering, "holy shit, Danny actually did work beforehand. That's got to be some kind of sign of the apocalypse". Even Lancer is giving Danny some weird looks, thoroughly embarrassing Danny.
Todd jumping in, "I'm claiming whoever the villain is". Absolutely no one is surprised by this.
Paulina putting a hand to her chest, "I'm claiming whoever’s the cutest", waving her hand at Star, “second cutest, obviously”. Star clapping her hands happily even if her smile’s just slightly pinched. Paulina turning on Emilie, “and since you actually do ballet, you can be that, hmm, white one?”.
Lancer sits back down in his seat, “yes well, you can chose your roles amongst yourselves, just try to avoid taking on more than you can handle. However, I’ll be playing jennyanyd and old deuteronomy”. Everyone either laughs at that or shakes their head, of course the ex-cheerleader drag queen of a teacher would want to be part of this whole thing.
Danny snickering, “at least you’re playing an old guy”.
Lancer hums, “remember, Daniel, someone has to play Gus and Jellylorum, the real ‘old guy’ and ‘old lady’ as you say”. Danny cringes dramatically. “And the person who plays the lead, Munkustrap, can only play that one; I hope I don’t have to explain why”. No one argues with that.
Danny grins, putting his hand up slowly, “Wes. That’s what he gets for skipping”. If Danny must suffer then he’ll absolutely take Wes down with him.
“You’re only sacrificing him to the role because of spite!”.
“Well he did skip so it’s his own fault”.
“And the guy screams and rants so much that he’s clearly got the pipes to talk sing whatever for two hours”.
Charlie tilts his head, “isn’t there a sexy guy cat that all the girls are going to have to faun over? Who’s doing that? And what about the fat one?”.
Lancer smirks, “Bustopher jones doesn’t do much, easy on the bones, I’ll do him as well. And do remeber Rum Tum Tiger, or the ‘sexy guy’ has a strong singing role; I’d rather no one embarrass themselves”.
Emile rolls her eyes, “this is sounding like an excuse for you to star in a musical. And it’s a musical, we’re all going to be embarrassed”; Lancer doesn’t deign to respond to that.
You know, Danny’s pretty sure almost no one here can actually sing decently… except maybe Lancer, Danny’s not going to claim that he knows all that man’s talents. And he supposes Paulina’s probably been trained by her folks, since that’s the type of hoity toity people they are.
Todd huffs, “I can totally do sexy and singing, I’ll do him”. Multiple people groan, that was so not going to go well. At least this saves Danny from having to possibly offer himself up for that.
Star shaking her head, “so Wes gets to be the main guy, Danny the dead girl, Emile the dancer, Paulina as Paulina, and Lancer basically every big character”, blinking, “what’s Kwan going to do?”.
Kwan shrugs, “eh there’s some hero type cat right?”. Everyone just kinda shrugs, guess Kwan’s playing the cat version of Phantom. Damn Danny shoulda called dibs on that one.
And then, of course, Wes finally shows up. Danny jumping up and slamming his hands down on his desk, “congrats! Wessy! You get to be the lead cat!”.
Wes scowls, “I hate you”.
Was it even slightly surprising that everyone wound up arguing about who had to play the two old characters that weren’t already covered? No, no it wasn’t.
Danny huffing, “I’m already playing one old character, y’all can fuck off”.
Lindsey rubbing her temples, “yeah well I can only do up so much of this screen play nonsense without knowing who plays the old fart. And I’m already doing too much to take on yet another role, I’m not going to be a one woman show”.
“Well Todd gets the sexy guy so he can also get the least sexy guy”.
“Oh hell no!”.
“Fair’s fair, shit head”.
“You wanna fight about it!”.
Charlie grumbling, “I’m pretty sure we all are already fighting”.
Todd huffing, “I’ll do that railway cat, and since he does his solo thing right after old guy, I can’t do both”.
Danny pointing at him, “say that to my face, I’m pretty sure I’m stuck doing shit constantly”.
“You’re the one who needs extra credit super bad”.
“Ugh”, Danny rolling his shoulders, “besides your ‘villain’ cat is right after your ‘railway cat’ so….”.
“Even more reason I can’t be the old guy”.
“You kids sound like you need some help here”; basically half the table jumps at the janitor butting into the conversation. “You know, I’ve done some plays in my high school days”.
Emilie throws up her hands, “fine! We’re recruiting you now. You got a wife?”.
The janitor blinks, “you’re much too young for that, dearie-”. Danny puts his head down and starts wheeze laughing.
“Oh zone no! We need an older lady to sing a duet with the older guy! EW!”.
The janitor rubbing his chin, not looking offended in the slightest, “ah yes, I suppose she could do that”.
Danny throwing his hands up in the air, “OH THANK THE ZONE!”. And claps the janitor one on the arm, “you are our saviour, my poor grades thank you”.
Paulina makes a face and mutters to herself about the gross working class, which thankfully goes ignored by everyone but Star and Lindsey.
Danny is legit seriously glad for the janitors sacrifice, since Danny absolutely would have been forced into the old man role.
Now there was only one big issue, how to get outfits that don’t look too horrifically stupid and ugly…. Tucker’s got a bunch of otter tails which could pass as cat tails, but only a handful, so at least Danny will have a tail that’s not a bunch of stitched together socks. He needs something more than that…
For once -well maybe not ‘for once’, this has happened a time or two before- a ghost actually solves Danny’s problems. How? The GhostWriter… who had angry been tapping on his window minutes ago and is now mildly ranting about ‘this play he heard about and how dare Phantom be okay with that kind of rhyming and not poetry’.
How does this guy ranting at Danny help him at all? Simple, he can bind books so he can definitely stitch clothes; Danny just… has to talk him into it. Zone he’d rather this be a fist fight.
“-I have catalogued books longer than you have been capable of disappointment, and yet somehow you have managed to invent a brand new literary crime: apparently liking musicals while hating poetry. That is like adoring cake but declaring war on flour”, pointing aggressively at Danny, “which I wouldn’t put it past you to do”, huffing, “you obviously hate poetry. Which is just plain over dramatic for someone who apparently happily watches entire casts burst into rhyming musical numbers every twelve minutes. Do you think those lyrics descend from people’s minds fully choreographed? No. They begin as lines. Metered, measured, carefully balanced lines. Poetry. Tiny, precise beautiful lines of language. Musicals just throw a bunch of unsightly glitter onto them and shout louder! Words don’t need that kind of emphasis, you brat!-”.
Danny makes a face at the man, Danny is basically the king of unnecessarily emphasizing things. Emphasizing things with his fists and wit, that is.
“-And don’t give me that face. You haven’t earned the right to make that face. Because that is the face of someone who claims poetry is boring and ‘stupid’ while memorizing every lyric to a three-hour production about emotionally volatile strangers who solve their problems through synchronized singing-”.
Bold of the man to assume that Danny’s memorized jack fuck all. Though songs were easier to remeber than most other things, and more fun too.
“-You sit there, eyes shining, heart pounding, while someone rhymes ‘fire’ with ‘desire’ for the seventeenth time, and you call it art. My scarf can create better lines! But put the same rhyme on a page, remove the spotlight, and suddenly you react like I’ve handed you a brick of anguish-”.
To be fair, this guy literally basically used books and poetry to psychologically torture Danny for a prolonged period of time. So a ‘brick of anguish’ is not inaccurate.
“-Let me make this exquisitely clear. A musical is a poem, yes poetry, that people got foolishly tired of being read quietly, so they decided to recruit a gaggle of backup dancers. That’s it. Strip away the orchestra, the costumes, the dramatic lighting, and what remains? Words. Rhythm. Rhyme. Structure. Poetry, standing there in its natural habitat, how dare you only respect it when it sings at you!”, quoting mockingly, “‘oh but musicals ‘tell stories’’. Of course they do! What do you imagine poetry has been doing for the last several thousand years? Decorating shelves? Poetry has told stories of war, love, betrayal, gods with questionable judgment, mortals making even worse decisions, entire civilizations rising and collapsing in verse. It has done all of this without a single over dramatic bow, which frankly shows remarkable restraint-”.
More like a lack of pizazz and a lack of dedication to the bit, in Danny’s opinion. All those things the ghost listed were supposed to be dramatic… though bowing after doing a war would be so horrifically insensitive; even Pariah, an actual warmonger, probably didn’t do that.
The GhostWriter scowling, “oh but ‘poetry is hard to understand’. No. Poetry requires you to meet it halfway. Musicals drag you by the collar and yell their feelings directly into your face with a full brass section for emphasis-”.
Minus the brass section, that just sounds like what ghosts do or try to do to Danny on a daily basis. He’s even got the scars and open wounds to show for it. At least they use fist and not song, if all the ghosts sang at him every single time, Danny would probably fully give up on the whole ‘wanting to still be marginally alive’ thing.
“-Poetry hands you the same emotion, distilled, sharpened, and says, ‘Here. Pay attention’. You don’t dislike poetry. You dislike having to listen without being serenaded into submission. Your rhymes spoon-fed by a chorus line-”.
Okay Danny can acknowledge a good oneliner when he hears one, he’s banking that one. Not that he thinks he’ll ever get to use ‘your rhymes spoon-fed by a chorus line’ in any kind of fight, unless he winds up fighting a musical instrument or something. Winds up fighting a wind instrument, HA.
“-It is the same skeleton, child. The same bones. Rhyme, rhythm, imagery. Musicals are simply poetry wearing a very loud costume and insisting everyone look at it, like some kind of debaucherous whore-”.
A decent insult, but potentially a little too sexist for Danny’s tastes. Calling an inanimate object a ‘debaucherous whore’? Hmmm yes very funny. Calling someone dressed skimpy a ‘debaucherous whore’? Boo bad.
“-And you have the audacity to clearly enjoy one and dismiss the other as if they are entirely unrelated species, as if one did not evolve directly out of the other like some beautifully dramatic linguistic creature discovering it has legs and deciding to sashay away-”.
Oh geez is the GhostWriter into drag??? Danny did not see that one coming.
“-I refuse to accept ‘I just don’t like poetry’ as a valid stance. You like it just fine. You crave it, in fact. You just require it to arrive with choreography and emotional overstatement. Which means your problem is not with poetry. Your problem is with silence”, and now the GhostWriter is floating there huffing very dramatically.
Danny… does actually do pretty poorly with silence, like, just in general. He’s a quipy bastard for a reason. Blinking at the wheezing ghost, “are you done assaulting my ear drums?”.
The GhostWriter scowls, “I can hardly be assaulting them any further than all the fanfare you stuff your head full with”.
Danny blinks again, “dude, I don’t actually like musicals”, pressing his hands together and pointing them at the ghost, “what I like is a bump in my gpa”, taking a deep breath, “and for the millionth time, I hated that specific poetry book because it was about Christmas, not because it was poetry. Will you let that go already”.
The GhostWriter crosses his arms and scowls, “why would an English teacher give extra credit for, of all things, music”.
Danny quirking an eyebrow, “I don’t know, maybe because music involves words”, muttering under his breath, “when there’s singing anyways, which they’re very much is in this… unfortunately”. Danny might like singing now, thanks to Ember, but he’s positive that listening to everyone else sing is going to be physically painful. Shaking his head and eyeing the ghost some more, “and because he’s really into musicals right now. Heck, Lancer’s the one you should be giving all this word vomit to, not me!”.
“He’s not my future king, you are”.
"Oh, bite me". The guy’s sadly got a point though. Damn. “And anyways, when you sing ‘save meeEEEeeEEEeeee’ it’s sounds great, when you write it, it just looks stupid. So there. I still think ninety nine point nine percent of musicals are unbearably corny though, not that I’ve seen all that many”. Danny didn’t have the time to go around watching things that he’s not solidly sure he’ll like. His free time is a pretty scarce resource. “Anyways anyways, now that you’ve used me as your personally verbal punching bag for the better part of an hour, why don’t you put those book binding skills to good use and make a bunch of dance ballet or whatever leotards. So that your princy doesn’t end up looking unbelievably stupid in front of the masses, and so that everyone else looking stupid doesn’t make him, aka me, look stupid by proxy”.
The GhostWriter glares at him, “I didn’t come to accost you, only to get turned into your handmaid”, and turns to start floating out of Danny’s window.
Danny lunging at the ghost immediately, “oh no you don’t!”, grabbing the guys scarf and yanking him to the ground. They roll around a little before Danny gets him pinned firmly enough for his liking, “you bitch at me, you be my bitch”. The GhostWriter’s head thunks into the floor.
See the thing is, the GhostWriter has just enough sense of responsibility to actually do a task well when asked, even if asked a bit forcefully, so long as he couldn’t really reasonably refuse doing it. And well… Danny was technically every ghosts sorta future boss, not that he usually ever did anything with that particular fact.
The ghost sighs, “at least give me a physical copy of the acurs-ed script you’ve deigned to use, for my library”.
Danny rolling his eyes, getting up and wiping his pants off, “yeah sure, whatever. I highly doubt anyone will want to read a Highschool revision of Cats”.
“It’ll be filed and recorded for its historical value”.
“My everyday life should not be what counts as historically valuable”.
“Then perhaps you should stop acquiring royal titles, if you feel such a way, Phantom”.
“With my luck? HA. I’ll get another by noon”. If that does actually happen Danny will stab himself, repeatedly.
Tucker shakes his head at Danny, handing off a box, “now tell me why, again, do you get your spectral deliveries sent to my house”.
“Oh maybe because your parents won’t confiscate it, and because you get ghost mail from Technus all the time already. Meaning, your folks won’t even bat an eye”. The mild friendship between those two was a little weird but not unexpected. Techno geeks gotta stick together right? Even if one was a megalomaniac.
Tucker shrugging, “point. His tech may be dated but he is still a genius with the stuff, and it’s not like it’s any different from you befriending Ember”, smirking, “minus having to deal with a jealous violent boyfriend”.
“I’d be worried about his health if he ever decided to give up on trying to taxidermy me”, shifting the box under his arm, ten bucks this thing’s bigger on the inside than the outside, “anyway, I should probably hand this stuff out before everyone makes asses of themselves by actually wearing the ugly storage closet shit they’ve likely put on”.
“Dude, you didn’t even tell them?”.
Danny’s grin is absolutely malicious, “I’m dead, I’ve earned the right to be dramatic”.
“I’m not sure you can even get more dramatic than this mess”.
Danny’s grin only gets more malicious, “watch me”.
Tucker lifts up a professional camera, “oh I, or we really, will”.
Shit. Oh well too late. Clips of this was totally going to wind up on TikTok or something, wasn’t it? Dash was going to get so much new amo to harass him with. Fuck his life.
Was basically everybody in storage junk? Yeah, what the hell else were they all gonna wear? Most people don’t exactly own cat patterned dance-safe clothing. Sure some people, mostly the girls, have animal print leggings and long sleeves but that’s basically it. Less costume and more animal themed day clothes. The sock tails and cheap half broken animals ears are really impressively ugly. And of course, Paulina’s the only one with an actually matching set.
And Danny knows Lancer’s drag queen ass has made his own outfits, meaning everyone here would look even worse by comparison. Once again, Danny to the rescue.
Danny plopping the box on a table very loudly, “sup, bitches, I brought the fashion”, glancing at Lancer as the teacher judgingly sticks his head out of a side room, “except for Lance, he rocks he’s own fashion”.
The man narrows his eyes, “whatever it is, the answer’s no, Daniel. Flattery will get you nowhere”.
Danny muttering, “it used to get me somewhere”.
“That was before I knew your ways better”.
Danny just rolls his eyes before opening up the box and lifting up a couple of leotards strategically layered with close to broadway accurate fur styles and patterns. Danny smirking at the man, “are you sure I can’t bribe you?”.
Lancer’s over in a flash, inspecting one of the suits with stars in his eyes, sounding almost breathless, “did you steal these?”.
Emilie chuckles, “I like how that’s his, and everyone else’s, first assumption. Now gimme because what I can see looks way better than a sock puppet tail and zebra print dress pants”. The pants really deserved to be set on fire.
At least the all white outfit is the easiest one to find, Danny handing it over obediently, “first off, these were acquired legally”, shrugging, “just had to pin a guy down for a little bit, pinned down nonconstentually”.
Charlie muttering, “he does realize that that’s illegal right?”.
Danny points back at him, “ghost, human law need not apply”.
“Well then you really could have stolen it and it wouldn’t be technically illegal!”.
Kwan blinking, “oh man, did you shake down a dead actor from the musical? Sick”.
Todd huffing, “stealing from a dancer can’t be that hard”.
Danny turning around and chucking the two boys their couple of outfits, “oh my zone no I did not steal anything. I asked a librarian, who’s made a hobby out of book binding his own creations, to ‘book bind’ fur to fabric instead. He’s gonna file the script for this nightmare in his library in return”, looking to Lindsey, “so it better be good, or goodish, little miss group writer”.
She sighs but walks over to find her outfits, “why am I the one who keeps getting more work piled on me”.
Paulina fiddles with her hair a little, “maybe if you were prettier you’d have better luck at getting out of it”; making the other girl flinch. Crossing her arms and huffing, “and I’ll still be doing everyone’s make up, not like any of you can be trusted to do this face right. And I am so not cool with having to look at poorly done cat face paint for, like, literal hours”.
Danny absolutely throws the Latina's suits at her face, before pulling out his sequined monstrosity of a tuxedo leotard. It’s as much of a flashy eyesore as he’d hoped it would be.
Lancer shakes his head, still looking slightly awed, “I wasn’t aware you’d befriended the GhostWriter, Daniel. And I’d prefer to wear my own creations, that I spent considerable time on”.
Danny quirking an eyebrow, “I figured, and you say that like you know the guy”.
Lancer shrugging, “we’ve done drag shows together a time or two”.
Oh holy shit the GhostWriter actually was into drag! Weird… Does drag just attract the book lovers of the world or something? Even if the GhostWriter doesn’t seem like the right kind of over dramatic for drag. Eh oh well, it’s not like Danny’s one to judge. Smirking, “win anything?”.
“I’m not nearly that good, Daniel”.
“Oh don’t sell yourself short, you’ve fooled me”.
“That’s not the compliment you think it is, nor is that the difficult task you think it is”.
Danny gives him a mock look of offence before slipping away to put his sequin feline nightmare on. Charlie shrieking, “the tails actually move! WHY!”, as the door clicks shut. Danny’s got questions about that, questions he absolutely will not be asking.
Wes slams open the door as Danny tugs on the stupid black and white sequin leotard he unfortunately agreed to. Zone he looks like a monochrome disco ball. Wes scowling, “just remember you did this to yourself, Phantom”.
“Ha. Ha. Very funny”.
Wes looking him up and down, “maybe your friends should stick sequins on that suit of yours”.
“Convince them of that and I’m going to bejewel all of your conspiracy nutjob folders”.
Wes gasps dramatically before scowling, “just give me my damn outfit”.
“What? Don’t want to wear a bedroom curtain or whatever they set aside for you”.
“No. Absolutely not”.
“Well tough shit”.
“I hate you”.
Danny rolling his eyes, “unclench that ass, I did bring you an outfit too”.
“I didn’t know you were capable of being considerate”.
“Do you want me to incinerate it while you’re wearing it?”.
“Good luck doing that with everyone's eyes on me, thanks for that by the way. You jerk”.
Danny shakes a noisy arm at the wannabe sleuth, “this thing is armed with a wrist ray, I’ll have you know. I get to be late, I have responsibilities, you do not. Anyways, let’s get this over with before Lancer gives himself an excitement induced stroke”.
Wes grimacing, “I hate that’s actually possible”.
“Yeah that man gets way too into his hobbies. Case in point, this bullshit”.
Danny walking up to the group, watching them all finish setting up while Wes is off getting changed, “I am putting in exactly zero more effort, praise me”. Lancer’s already in fat woman cat drag, practically shaking in excitement. Yeah he might actually give himself a stroke or heart attack. Thank the Ancients the man was doing lazy roles, geez.
Lancer clapping his hands together the best he can, “okay places people, and yes I know this is supposed to be fun, but do try to do well. And-”, eyeing Danny, Wes, then Todd, “-don’t intentionally make everything go pear-shaped, please”. Emile kicks Todd one for pouting like he had been planning to mess things up, then the group gets to grouping and doing this stupid literal song and dance.