Owen Corley

Well, the Danger Shop was no longer looking like an old timey movie theater, which was a plus. Instead, it was back to its classroom configuration, complete with a heavy copy of Gray's Anatomy (the text, not the show) on each desk.

"So," she said once class began, "this weekend is Parents' Weekend. I will be holding office hours, certainly on Saturday, likely on Sunday as well." Because she was not expecting guests this year, and was going to have quite the rude awakening when she discovered that she did. "If there are certain things you wish for me to keep from your guests - names, pronouns, the existence of magic, that this is a dimensional nexus, and so on and so forth - you should inform me of this sometime before your visitors show up. I have remarkably few qualms about lying, but I do need a heads up in the first place. Informing me of any lies you have already told your guests will also be useful. I am not a telepath, thank any number of gods for small favors."

Faintly, they could hear the sounds of some kind of commotion, like several classes were moving through the downstairs hallways with no disregard for the other classes that were still in session. Liliana ignored them. "Moving onto topics actually relevant to the class, today we'll be covering basic anatomy and physiology to give you a better idea of what and where to aim when fighting off the undead." The noises outside their classroom were getting both louder and closer. "Many of you are used to fighting living opponents, who are often hampered by things like pain, bleeding, fear, asphyxiation, adrenaline, and a respect for one's own organs. None of those things will stop a zombie, so many of you may have fighting instincts that are normally useful, but will actually be detrimental in situations where your opponent is undead."

By this point, it sounded like complete pandemonium outside. Running, yelling, people demanding information or calling for order, even a few screams of terror. Or perhaps pain?

And below all of that: groans.

"Now then, if you will please turn to page eighty-three, the chapter on the skeletal structure--" she continued, as a loud roar echoed down the hall. Pandemonium turned to panic as the people outside began shrieking, "ZOMBIES!" and running for their lives.

"Oh my, it seems the school is currently undergoing a zombie invasion," she said, pulling out a manicure set and beginning to file her nails. The tone of her voice was reminiscent of Gene Wilder calling for police help. "Oh no, whatever will you do to survive?" She glanced back up at anyone who was still in their seat, and made a little shooing motion with her hands. "That's your assignment, by the way. Survive. Or, at least die in such a way that teaches you a valuable life lesson in what not to do next time."