Post by FaerieOfDoom on Nov 4, 2007 3:16:26 GMT -5
Summary: School sucks, especially when you have the worst luck and end up with the evil woman from Mars as your math teacher...
Rating: PG-13.
Grounding my teeth together, I stared at my teacher furiously.
She was already ruining my life, three minutes into first period, no less!
My foot tapped nervously on the cheap carpeted floor, my eyes constantly flying back to the clock on the wall. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Ahh! I wanted to tear my hair out. It was the first day of term - the first period of the day, even! – and I had already bitten my nails down to the quick.
This wasn’t turning out so good. I thought that maybe I could handle it; maybe I could go a whole year without losing my mind. But no such luck.
I got her. Miss Mourge. The worst teacher to ever walk the halls of this fine establishment (not!).
Hell in high heels, really.
I had taken one look at my timetable and felt my optimism fall through the giant Chasm of Doom that opened up beneath my feet.
I glanced at the clock again. Five minutes into the lesson. Would it never end!?
“Carl Winston!” a ruler hit my table with a loud snap! as the teacher yelled my name only inches away from my ear. Good, maybe I was injured enough to leave the lesson…
“Would you please pay attention to my class? I know it’s hard for your mind to focus, but there will be no slacking this year, young man!” Her rotten teeth stared me in the face, and the smell of pickled onions and sardines wafted up my nose as she leaned in closer.
“I’ll be watching you this year, boy. Don’t think I’ll put up with your shenanigans like your previous teachers.”
As she walked away, I mourned my perfectly normal hearing.
My friend, Patty, leaned over her desk from where she sat behind me.
“Tough luck, eh?” she whispered as the Teacher From Mars (the evil part of Mars) began writing on the board. “We really got the rotten end of the stick this year…”
I sighed and sunk desolately into my chair, sticking my thumbnail between my teeth.
“Cheer up! We only have her eight periods a week, two a day, max!”
“Great.” I said sarcastically, my eyes wandering over to the clock again.
The block letters spelling “HOMEWORK” on the board burned into my retina as I looked back towards the front of the room, and they scarred me forever.
“There has to be something up with this!” I cried, slamming my hand down on the lunch table.
“Calm down, Carl.” Patty soothed, taking a bite of her sandwich. “Don’t get too upset. There’s nothing we can do.”
“But – but it’s so unfair!” I protested, resting my head on my hand. “She’s so evil – she has to be part of some conspiracy, or – or an alien! That’s it! She’s an alien!”
Patty looked at me pityingly.
“It’s okay, Carl. The men in white suits will be here soon.”
I scowled at her and batted away her hand as she tried to comfort me.
“I’m going to get to the bottom of this!” I stood up resolutely, smashing my hand into my palm. “I’ll figure out what she is – and why she picks on me!”
I stalked off, Patty looking after me with a worried expression. Then she took another bite of her sandwich.
The next day I turned up at school with my bag feeling heavier than usual. I felt haggard, and there were huge bags under my eyes from staying up all night devising a cunning Plan. I wouldn’t make it to lunchtime, I knew, but that didn’t matter. I had her before then.
The beginning of the day flew past in a whirl of start-of-term preliminaries. I barely noticed, so intent was I on the thought of catching her that day. I had a Plan. My Plans were brilliant.
Fourth period I walked into the classroom, my limbs heavy and slowing me down, my eyes threatening to close even as I moved to my seat.
“Welcome, class to your second day of school!” the teacher grinned at the class sadistically. “I know how excited you all are to learn all you need for end of year tests! It’s a big year, and there is much to soak in like the little sponges you all are.”
I watched Miss Mourge attentively, memorising her voice, her tone and the way her eyes bugged out slightly. Gosh, she was creepy looking. Today her hair was up in a bun, wisps of her steel-grey hair had escaped to frame her withered, wrinkled face. Her glasses, horrible frames of a puke green colour, perched precariously on her beak-like nose. Her threadbare but well looked-after clothes were forty years out of date, and miss-matched.
There were rumours that she had been a teacher back when T.V. was black-and-white, and that she looked exactly as she did now – if slightly younger.
“Now, a show of hands. Who did their homework last night?” the class raised their hands as one, all except me. I felt the blood drain from my cheeks. Oh, no! I’d forgotten to do my homework in my feverish need to expose Miss Mourge for the alien that she was!
Plan averted!
Her eyes narrowed and she stalked towards me, her shoes making a soft thud as she took another step. I knew that the sound marked my soon to be non-existence.
“Well, well, well.” She murmured, slapping her ruler against her palm as she studied me with a smug smile. “If it isn’t Carl Winston.”
She leaned in, and her smile widened to show her ugly, rotten teeth.
“Detention. Lunchtime.”
I gulped and gave Patty a frightened look, which she returned with a shrug.
“Think you’re too good to do my homework, huh, Mr Winston?” Her voice was not unlike the sensation one gets when one scrapes their nails down a chalkboard.
I shivered.
“I’m sorry, Miss-” I started to apologise, but she interrupted me.
“I would have thought you could have made an effort for me, Mr Winston. Really, I did. But it seems I was mistaken. You’re still a miscreant, and miscreants never learn.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but she held up a hand. “No, no, Mr Winston. I do not want to hear it. You’re a crude, inconsiderate, ill-mannered brute and I will simply have to punish you until you understand that misbehaviour and failure to complete set tasks and homework is not suffered in my classroom.”
I gave her a baleful glare.
“Now, you will write out this sentence: ‘I will complete all homework on time and to the best of my ability with good humour at all times.’ And you will write it out two hundred times.”
“Two hundred!” I cried out incredulously.
“Yes! Two hundred! And you will do it without further complaint, Mr Winston! I expect it done by the end of break.”
Muttering to myself I started my task, all the while thinking about Miss Mourge’s behaviour. What was the likeliest planet she could be from? Mars was the most ideal planet, of course. But the idea that she’s from Pluto or even another solar system was very ideal. It had a sort of…ring that ran true.
“Where is that vial?” I suddenly heard Miss Mourge murmur to herself, almost too softly for me to hear. I looked up curiously from my lines to see her rummaging about her desk, looking for something.
She gave up with a sigh and stood up awkwardly.
“Continue with your lines, Mr Winston! I’ll check that you’ve made progress upon my return!”
I watched her go, staring at the purple scales that had appeared on the back of her neck in dumb silence.
Oh. My. God.
Rating: PG-13.
Miss Mourge
Grounding my teeth together, I stared at my teacher furiously.
She was already ruining my life, three minutes into first period, no less!
My foot tapped nervously on the cheap carpeted floor, my eyes constantly flying back to the clock on the wall. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Ahh! I wanted to tear my hair out. It was the first day of term - the first period of the day, even! – and I had already bitten my nails down to the quick.
This wasn’t turning out so good. I thought that maybe I could handle it; maybe I could go a whole year without losing my mind. But no such luck.
I got her. Miss Mourge. The worst teacher to ever walk the halls of this fine establishment (not!).
Hell in high heels, really.
I had taken one look at my timetable and felt my optimism fall through the giant Chasm of Doom that opened up beneath my feet.
I glanced at the clock again. Five minutes into the lesson. Would it never end!?
“Carl Winston!” a ruler hit my table with a loud snap! as the teacher yelled my name only inches away from my ear. Good, maybe I was injured enough to leave the lesson…
“Would you please pay attention to my class? I know it’s hard for your mind to focus, but there will be no slacking this year, young man!” Her rotten teeth stared me in the face, and the smell of pickled onions and sardines wafted up my nose as she leaned in closer.
“I’ll be watching you this year, boy. Don’t think I’ll put up with your shenanigans like your previous teachers.”
As she walked away, I mourned my perfectly normal hearing.
My friend, Patty, leaned over her desk from where she sat behind me.
“Tough luck, eh?” she whispered as the Teacher From Mars (the evil part of Mars) began writing on the board. “We really got the rotten end of the stick this year…”
I sighed and sunk desolately into my chair, sticking my thumbnail between my teeth.
“Cheer up! We only have her eight periods a week, two a day, max!”
“Great.” I said sarcastically, my eyes wandering over to the clock again.
The block letters spelling “HOMEWORK” on the board burned into my retina as I looked back towards the front of the room, and they scarred me forever.
---
“There has to be something up with this!” I cried, slamming my hand down on the lunch table.
“Calm down, Carl.” Patty soothed, taking a bite of her sandwich. “Don’t get too upset. There’s nothing we can do.”
“But – but it’s so unfair!” I protested, resting my head on my hand. “She’s so evil – she has to be part of some conspiracy, or – or an alien! That’s it! She’s an alien!”
Patty looked at me pityingly.
“It’s okay, Carl. The men in white suits will be here soon.”
I scowled at her and batted away her hand as she tried to comfort me.
“I’m going to get to the bottom of this!” I stood up resolutely, smashing my hand into my palm. “I’ll figure out what she is – and why she picks on me!”
I stalked off, Patty looking after me with a worried expression. Then she took another bite of her sandwich.
---
The next day I turned up at school with my bag feeling heavier than usual. I felt haggard, and there were huge bags under my eyes from staying up all night devising a cunning Plan. I wouldn’t make it to lunchtime, I knew, but that didn’t matter. I had her before then.
The beginning of the day flew past in a whirl of start-of-term preliminaries. I barely noticed, so intent was I on the thought of catching her that day. I had a Plan. My Plans were brilliant.
Fourth period I walked into the classroom, my limbs heavy and slowing me down, my eyes threatening to close even as I moved to my seat.
“Welcome, class to your second day of school!” the teacher grinned at the class sadistically. “I know how excited you all are to learn all you need for end of year tests! It’s a big year, and there is much to soak in like the little sponges you all are.”
I watched Miss Mourge attentively, memorising her voice, her tone and the way her eyes bugged out slightly. Gosh, she was creepy looking. Today her hair was up in a bun, wisps of her steel-grey hair had escaped to frame her withered, wrinkled face. Her glasses, horrible frames of a puke green colour, perched precariously on her beak-like nose. Her threadbare but well looked-after clothes were forty years out of date, and miss-matched.
There were rumours that she had been a teacher back when T.V. was black-and-white, and that she looked exactly as she did now – if slightly younger.
“Now, a show of hands. Who did their homework last night?” the class raised their hands as one, all except me. I felt the blood drain from my cheeks. Oh, no! I’d forgotten to do my homework in my feverish need to expose Miss Mourge for the alien that she was!
Plan averted!
Her eyes narrowed and she stalked towards me, her shoes making a soft thud as she took another step. I knew that the sound marked my soon to be non-existence.
“Well, well, well.” She murmured, slapping her ruler against her palm as she studied me with a smug smile. “If it isn’t Carl Winston.”
She leaned in, and her smile widened to show her ugly, rotten teeth.
“Detention. Lunchtime.”
I gulped and gave Patty a frightened look, which she returned with a shrug.
---
“Think you’re too good to do my homework, huh, Mr Winston?” Her voice was not unlike the sensation one gets when one scrapes their nails down a chalkboard.
I shivered.
“I’m sorry, Miss-” I started to apologise, but she interrupted me.
“I would have thought you could have made an effort for me, Mr Winston. Really, I did. But it seems I was mistaken. You’re still a miscreant, and miscreants never learn.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but she held up a hand. “No, no, Mr Winston. I do not want to hear it. You’re a crude, inconsiderate, ill-mannered brute and I will simply have to punish you until you understand that misbehaviour and failure to complete set tasks and homework is not suffered in my classroom.”
I gave her a baleful glare.
“Now, you will write out this sentence: ‘I will complete all homework on time and to the best of my ability with good humour at all times.’ And you will write it out two hundred times.”
“Two hundred!” I cried out incredulously.
“Yes! Two hundred! And you will do it without further complaint, Mr Winston! I expect it done by the end of break.”
Muttering to myself I started my task, all the while thinking about Miss Mourge’s behaviour. What was the likeliest planet she could be from? Mars was the most ideal planet, of course. But the idea that she’s from Pluto or even another solar system was very ideal. It had a sort of…ring that ran true.
“Where is that vial?” I suddenly heard Miss Mourge murmur to herself, almost too softly for me to hear. I looked up curiously from my lines to see her rummaging about her desk, looking for something.
She gave up with a sigh and stood up awkwardly.
“Continue with your lines, Mr Winston! I’ll check that you’ve made progress upon my return!”
I watched her go, staring at the purple scales that had appeared on the back of her neck in dumb silence.
Oh. My. God.
THE END