One of the raptors ratted me out, and Grendel called me to his office to sizzle me in his hot seat. He yelled at me for going against Sauron’s orders. He moved closer until I could smell the dead flesh of vulchers and cigarettes on his breath. He demanded that I admit guilt. I suspected the motive was grade inflation.
I stared at his jugular wondering how fast it would take to tear it out with my teeth. Like Beowulf, I wanted to destroy the monster. To my dismay, as my PTSD was getting ready to launch, the VP, who was there to witness this interrogation, stepped forward and stopped us.
I think she saw the hunger in my eyes.
After school, she came into the teacher’s lounge, as I was getting ready to leave campus. We were alone. She looked around with a tense expression and made sure the hall leading to the staff lounge was empty.
Then she leaned closer and whispered. “You were right.” And she quit a few weeks later to accept a position in another school district abandoning us to the beast.
Damn! Talk about the rats leaving the ship. Soon, teachers started clambering down the ropes to escape.
Part three of three
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