School - Back in Session!

Just something to (hopefully) make you laugh a bit... (or maybe remind you of a past memory... or maybe have you scream in horror yourself...)

Oh, the Horror     

           Bertha slumped through the halls of Greensvich High School. Her glum mood seemed to
broadcast to the people around her, making everyone in her vicinity a sudden pessimist.

                Bertha didn’t know the sway she held over the people’s feelings on that point, or she
might have tried to make her sour expression twist into a fake smile, but it was probably better that
her face stayed downcast – her fake smiles tended to give people headaches.

                As it is with most people, Bertha had only one thing that was causing her face to cloud
and eyes to squint at the well-worn floors as if they had done her a personal wrong: Henrietta
Fitzwerner.

                Henrietta was a preppy, small, red-haired girl whose voice traveled at about a hundred
miles an hour, and whose brain was twice as fast. She and Bertha shared two classes: world
religions and home economics. Bertha detested her.

                Henrietta had never said anything unkind to Bertha, and everyone else in the world adored the little girl and her random comments. Yet, Bertha knew that every time the little brat 
turned to Bertha and asked if she’d ever seen a blueand yellow striped elephant, she was actually
laughing at Bertha’s librarian glasses as they perched upon her small, round nose, and magnified her 
narrow, hazel eyes. Or maybe it was the big, pursed lips that caused Henrietta to course with secret 
laughter, or even her chin. Bertha didn’t see anything wrong with her chin, but she knew that, no 
matter what anyone else said, Henrietta must be laughing at her.

                Bertha’s eyes registered that the next room to the right was her algebra 1 class. Algebra
1 was her next class. As her feet automatically shuffled into the room, all thought of Henrietta was
pushed from her mind. Mrs. Creeze was leering at the class.

                Mrs. Creeze had only won one teacher trophy in her seventeen years of experience: and
since there were fourteen teacher trophies and fifteen teachers every year, not winning was quite an
accomplishment. In actuality, the only trophy Mrs. Creeze had won wasn’t even an official
‘teacher-trophy’ from the principal’s office. It was one that the kids had made. They told her that it
was for being “The Most Diligent Hall Monitor”. Everyone in the school knew that it was actually
for having the scariest pop-quiz-and-detention face.

                Mrs. Creeze’s pop-quiz-and-detention face truly was horrible. Her paper-thin lips
cracked apart and revealed crooked, brown-spotted teeth as her condescending smile caused her
students to cringe. Her eyes glinted malevolently, and even her wrinkles seemed to perk at the
prospect of having more pupils to torture. Mrs. Creeze’s famous face was what greeted Bertha as
she walked through the classroom door.

                “Good morning, class.” The creaky voice issued from the teacher’s throat and filled the
classroom. A hush fell over the scholars, and everyone stared in apprehension at the stack of papers
in Mrs. Creeze’s hands. Everyone had a silent plea: please not a pop quiz. I can stand field-trip 
paperwork, but please; no pop quiz.

                 “Today, a school-wide ban has finally been lifted.” There was that creepy smile again. 
“You kids are going to get something that has been coming to you for a looooooong time. Our 
principal has agreed that with the grades of so many of you digressing so quickly, all teachers are 
allowed to assign homework to any students who are struggling. In this class, all you brats are 
struggling, except for Henrietta,” Mrs. Creeze’s expression turned sickly sweet: she doted on 
Henrietta, even if Henrietta didn’t seem to like her, “So none of you can be disdainful of anyone 
else, because you all get to do all the work.” Mrs. Creeze held up the deceptively simple stack of 
white paper.

                  Bertha’s heart stopped. She began to hyperventilate. Her pulse jackrabbitted from 
moments of frozen terror to racing, throbbing panic. She began seeing spots dancing before her. 
Her arms began to shake. She stared at the teacher in abject terror.

“HOMEWORK!!! How could you, Mrs. Creeze?” Then everything went black.