Pinky's Book Link

Tuesday, November 25, 2014

What the Hell's that on the Classroom Floor?

The bell rang as usual at 8:30 this morning.

Another day… another five cents.

My class sat expectantly, waiting for instructions from their Yoda (me) when I first noticed it. And I knew... I just knew those bright, keen faces were watching me, ready to bring me to my knees at the slightest sign of weakness.

“Never show your white belly, Grasshopper,” my Deputy told me some years ago.

So I didn’t let on what I’d seen. What I'd just spotted on the blue carpet. I’d keep it close to my heart.

“Darius! Would you hand out the maths books please?” 

I requested, eyeing the point of interest clandestinely, attempting to ascertain what the hell that thing, sinuously enmeshed in the carpet fibres, was.

It looked like… but it couldn’t be… but what if it was?... where did it come from?

A rat?... no, a rat would be too small. A possum? Doubtful. .. a possum wouldn’t be able to get into the classroom.

Or God forbid… could it be from a human? It wasn’t entirely incredible.

The chocolate hued specimen was about 4cm long and probably too small to have emanated from a child, and yet… with the lack of dietary fibre pandemic in ten year olds… who knew?

This was Code Red. No one could know about this. Not a soul.

I mean… you do remember the scene from Caddyshack? 

“Complete week thirty-seven in your Mental Maths books please,” I lilted nervously in my fake, ‘nice teacher’ voice. 

I didn’t want to alert the natives to what was possibly going down. 

That would be disastrous. There’d be hysteria. Pandemonium.

Glancing around to make sure no one was watching I snuck over to the tissue box and urgently grabbed a fistful.

Sashaying casually up to the object on the carpet, I swooped it up with the deftness of the Men from Uncle. I may as well have been suspended from the ceiling by optic fibres (or whatever) I was so stealthy.

Like a stealth bomber. Like Harry Potter and the snitch.

No one saw me. Not a one.

I had a quick squiz at the brown, squishy morsel encased in the Kleenex in my palm.

“Is it a clump of sultanas dropped from a lunch box?” I pondered. “Should I smell it?... Best not to.” I surmised stoically.

I threw it in the bin, unsniffed.

“What was that Mrs. Poinker?” asked Darius, eyes bulging suspiciously as he walked past me, laden down with maths books in his arms.

The children of the corn put their pencils down in unison. 

Staring at me with their laser like eyes.

“Nothing Darius,” I coughed. “nothing you need worry your little head about.”

The children of the corn bowed their heads once again to their Maths books.

Some things are best kept quiet for the sake of the greater good.