There are some people who want to be firemen. There are others who want to be gardeners. Then there are the people who want to be Botox injectors. Christopher Christophery was one of these people. All his life, he had dreamed of the day when he would become a Botox injector. To become a Botox injector, he would have to go to school at B.I.S.C.O.T.T.I., the Botox Intern School Center for The Terrific Injector. This school was located in the midst of the Swiss Alps. Christopher didn’t know this, because he didn’t live in the midst of the Swiss Alps.

The doorbell sounded, and Christopher opened the door. Standing outside was a middle-aged man wearing a fez. “I have come from B.I.S.C.O.T.T.I.,” said the man in a low and ominous tone. “You, Christopher Christophery, have been accepted into my school.”
“You own B.I.S.C.O.T.T.I.?”, asked Christopher in awe.
“Indeed I do. Let me introduce myself. I am Fritz Con Carne.”
“When does my training begin?”, asked Christopher.
“Your training begins tomorrow, but we will have to fly there today,” said Fritz.
“I need to pack my stuff,” said Christopher.
“Don’t worry about packing, there’s Jambalaya in the plane!”, exclaimed Fritz.
“I’m not talking about Jambalaya,” said Christopher. “I’m talking about clothes!”
“There’s plenty of clothes at B.I.S.C.O.T.T.I.,” said Fritz.
Christopher followed Fritz out the door and into the parking lot, where he saw to his dismay, that there was a plane parked on top of his mom’s car.   

Christopher and Fritz boarded the plane. Christopher sat down, and was handed a steaming bowl of Jambalaya. “Mmm, this is good Jambalaya,” remarked Christopher. He didn’t get a response, because Fritz had accidently drunk a glass of NyQuil, thinking it was water, and was fast asleep. Christopher found many things to amuse himself with on the long plane ride to B.I.S.C.O.T.T.I. The provided entertainment was very interesting. It consisted of Waldo the clown and his buttery buddies. As it turned out, the buttery buddies tasted very delicious on a piece of toast, dipped in the Jambalaya.

Night fell as the plane cruised over the Atlantic Ocean. Christopher got tired and fell asleep. The pilot was also getting drowsy, and let go of the controls so that he could glue his eyelids to his forehead. Unfortunately, the time that it took for the pilot to search for the glue, figure out how to open it, and use it to glue his eyelids to his forehead was 2 hours. This was a bit too much time. The plane spiraled downwards. If you have ever thrown a rock on a body of water with just the right amount of force and a little bit of spin, you would know what happened to the plane when it hit the ocean. It skipped. The plane bounced across the surface of the water, and with some luck, landed in the Swiss Alps. The only problem was that the plane did not land in the midst of the Swiss Alps, it landed at the edge. Fortunately, at that exact moment, a butterfly flapped its wings in China, causing a hurricane in Florida, and in turn caused a fish to fly out of the water. This fish landed on one end of a seesaw in Ireland, causing an unsuspecting child to fly off the other end, and onto the edge of the Swiss Alps. Luckily, this child was a weightlifting champion, and was able to carry the plane to the midst of the Swiss Alps in less than an hour.

Christopher and Fritz, having finally woken up, got out of the plane. Christopher gasped as he saw the magnificent main building of B.I.S.C.O.T.T.I. It looked like a piece of Biscotti! It is important to note that B.I.S.C.O.T.T.I is split into 3 buildings. Each building has a name. The name of the main building is Tim, the name of the secondary building is Alexis, and the name of the tertiary building is Phillip. “We shall now go inside Tim,” said Fritz.
“What?”, said Christopher.
“The name of the main building is Tim. If you had read the italicized section you would know that,” said Fritz.
“What italicized section?!”, exclaimed Christopher.
“Never mind,” said Fritz. “Let us proceed.”

The two went into the building, and were greeted by Herbert the Hyena, who was wearing a Biscotti costume.
“Herbert is B.I.S.C.O.T.T.I.’s mascot,” said Fritz. They continued on through the maze-like hallways of the main building. “This is your bedroom.” They walked into the bedroom. Whoever decorated the room was probably not a happy person. Mosquito taxidermy lined the walls, and the chandelier was made of bear teeth. Something was also very wrong with the bed, but Christopher couldn’t put his finger on it. Suddenly, Christopher could put his finger on it. The bed was made of feta cheese. These were the sleeping conditions that Christopher would have to endure during his 3-year education at B.I.S.C.O.T.T.I. Fritz gave Christopher a tour of the entire main building, the secondary building, and the tertiary building. At the end of the tour, Christopher thought that he had seen it all, but he was wrong. Fritz led Christopher into the dining hall as lunch began. The students were served fried mountain goat with a side of small mountain plants. They drank a concoction of melted snow, and squashed berries.

After lunch, Christopher went to his first class which was Syringe Making I. At the class, he sat down with the other newbies, and was greeted by the slightly ear-boiling sound of the syringe making instructor, Ms. Freakmeister. The teacher was indeed freaky. The pleather pants that she wore contrasted sharply with the tattoo on her arm that read “Me like chicken!” Hanging around her neck were two wind-up frogs. “Good morning class!”, exclaimed Ms. Freakmeister. “Welcome to Syringe Making I. Today we will be learning about how to successfully fit a plunger into a tube.” Ms. Freakmeister talked for a very long time about syringes. When she was done talking, she asked, “So, who invented the syringe?”
No one answered. This was probably because every kid in the class had fallen asleep. Ms. Freakmeister awaited an answer while she munched on a Fuji apple. She would have it no other way. It had to be a Fuji apple.

Christopher awoke to the sound of Ms. Freakmeister devouring one apple after another. Her crunching formed a rhythm which Christopher recognized immediately as 4/4 time. Just then, the bell rang, and every student immediately woke up from their slumber, and raced into the hallway. Christopher was very excited because his next class was Botox Injecting 101. He made it to the class just as the bell rang. At each desk, there was a syringe filled with Botox. The instructor, Mr. Jumbler, came into the room. “Alright class!”, he exclaimed. “Let’s get Injecting. Please pick up your syringe, and inject all of its contents into the student sitting next to you.”
Christopher did as he was told, and the student next to Christopher also did as he was told. Christopher felt the Botox enter his face. It was complete and total bliss. The student next to him was also savoring the moment.

“I know that you are completely immersed in happiness at the moment, but we have to move on with our lesson,” said Mr. Jumbler. Christopher came out of his trance, and waited for the next part of the lesson. Mr. Jumbler then proceeded to tell them all about why injecting Botox is an essential skill in life, and how, if the students worked hard, they could compete in the Botox Olympics. Christopher was fascinated by all this, and was motivated to keep working towards his dream of becoming a Botox Injecting Professional. The bell rang, and class ended. Since the classes were so freakishly long, there were only two per day. Christopher ate more mountain goat for dinner. He started heading up to his room. It had been a long day. As he approached his room, he remembered the one thing that might be his doom. He would have to sleep on the cheesy bed. He dreamed that he was a tomato sitting on some feta cheese in a Greek salad. When he awoke, he was ready for three more years of training to become a B.I.P.(Botox Injecting Professional).