It was a regular, boring-ass Monday at Oak Ridge High, and the students were just trudging through another goddamn school day. The bell rang, and like zombies, they poured into the cafeteria for lunch. Little did they know that today, shit was about to go sideways.

Why? Because Phonezilla, the cracked-screen, chaos-bringing piece of tech hell, had snuck its way into the school. After wreaking havoc in other towns, the giant, life-sized phone with its glitchy screen and tangled charging cord of doom was about to unleash its bullshit on these clueless teens. And where better to start than the most savage battleground of them all—the high school cafeteria?

Phonezilla sauntered into the room like it owned the goddamn place, its screen buzzing with notifications and bad ideas. It looked around, its evil circuits practically vibrating with excitement at the chaos it was about to cause. The first victim? Madison, the queen bee, sitting with her squad, bragging about her latest TikTok dance routine. Phonezilla slid up like a sleazy salesman.

“Hey, Madison, you wanna get really famous on TikTok? I’m talkin' next-level shit.”

Madison looked around, confused. “Who the hell is talking?”

“Me, dumbass,” Phonezilla said, flashing its cracked screen. “You want a viral moment? I’ve got you. Start a food fight. Not just any food fight—a fucking nugget apocalypse. People will lose their shit. Do it. Trust me. You’ll be a goddamn legend.”

Madison, because she lived for attention, stood up, grabbed her tray of chicken nuggets, and screamed, “CHICKEN NUGGET WAR!” Then she hurled a nugget like a grenade across the cafeteria, smacking some poor kid in the head.

What happened next was absolute anarchy. Within seconds, the cafeteria exploded into a full-scale food fight. Nuggets flew like bullets, pizza slices were soaring through the air, and some jackass threw a whole tray of mashed potatoes at the lunch lady. It was fucking beautiful. Phonezilla stood back, laughing its glitchy ass off as chaos spread like wildfire. Kids were filming the madness, posting TikToks with #NuggetWar and #FuckMyLife, while the school descended into total fucking madness.

But Phonezilla was just getting started. It spotted Trevor, the nerdy kid in the corner with his nose buried in a book. Perfect. It slid up behind him, whispering its next awful idea.

“Yo, Trevor. You wanna be the coolest kid in here?”

Trevor blinked. “What?”

“You heard me, bro,” Phonezilla buzzed. “Challenge your math teacher to a rap battle. Right now. Right in the middle of lunch. Everyone will think you’re a badass. Trust me, you’ll own the room.”

Trevor hesitated, but then, without fully thinking through how dumb this was, he stood up and yelled across the cafeteria, “MR. PHILLIPS! I CHALLENGE YOU TO A RAP BATTLE!”

The whole cafeteria went silent. Phones whipped out, cameras recording as everyone waited to see if Mr. Phillips—the most boring, middle-aged math teacher alive—would actually respond. Mr. Phillips looked up from his sad salad and blinked in confusion. “Excuse me?”

Phonezilla was buzzing with evil glee. Trevor was fucked, and he didn’t even know it.

“Come on, Mr. Phillips!” Trevor shouted, his voice cracking like a goddamn squeaky door. “Rap battle! Let’s go!”

Mr. Phillips, completely out of his element, stood up and tried his best to rhyme about math—and it was tragic as hell. The entire cafeteria erupted in laughter as Trevor’s face turned beet red. Phonezilla was losing it. This was better than it had ever imagined.

But the best part? Phonezilla still had more bullshit up its sleeve.

It slid over to Brittany, the caffeine junkie, who was busy lining up sodas like a goddamn caffeine addict.

“Hey, Brittany,” Phonezilla hissed. “You wanna be a legend? Start a coffee chugging contest. You’ll win for sure.”

Brittany’s eyes widened. “A coffee chugging contest?”

“Hell yeah,” Phonezilla sneered. “Chug more cups of coffee than anyone else, and you’ll be unstoppable. Trust me, you’ll win respect.”

Brittany, because she was one dumb decision away from a heart attack, stood up and screamed, “WHO WANTS TO CHALLENGE ME TO A COFFEE CHUGGING CONTEST?!”

Within minutes, cups of coffee were lined up, and Brittany went full psycho, chugging cup after cup like her life depended on it. By the time she got to the fifth cup, her hands were shaking and her face looked like it was about to explode. She barely made it through the sixth before collapsing into a jittery mess. Phonezilla laughed as she started twitching uncontrollably, her body paying the price for her stupid choices.

By the time lunch was over, the cafeteria looked like a war zone. There was food splattered on every surface, Trevor was hiding under a table, and Brittany was probably about to meet Jesus after her caffeine overdose.

The principal stormed in, pissed as hell, demanding to know what the fuck had happened, but it was too late. Phonezilla had already done its job. It strutted out of the cafeteria like a boss, its charging cord flicking behind it like the tail of a smug bastard.

As it disappeared into the hallways, Phonezilla whispered, “High schoolers… so fucking gullible. Who’s next?”

And just like that, Oak Ridge High had officially had the worst lunch period in its history. Thanks to Phonezilla, the school would be cleaning up the mess—both physically and emotionally—for weeks.