Me, I'm STEADY!
Lately I've been ending blogs with the promise of posting a chapter from The Misunderstanding of Alexander the Grate. While M.A.G won't be released for quite some time, I wanted to share this chapter because it really exemplifies my writing style. So, to give the coolest blog reader on Earth (Yeah, YOU!) a special treat, I figured I'd share. Enjoy!
The Torture
After about thirty minutes I managed to stop crying long enough to think about the trouble I’m going to get in tonight when my mother gets home. That rotten Mrs. Tort had called my house again.
Again!
Doesn’t she know that she’s not welcome here? It is bad enough she sends homework home, but now she calls to make sure it gets here.
Obviously, I’m not a big fan of Mrs. Tort. I’d be willing to bet Mrs. Tort doesn’t like me either, or she just doesn’t understand. All she does is complain about what I do, how I do it, where I do it, when I do it, but never seems to care about why I do it. Plus, she keeps telling my mother about my reading and how it could be better.
What mom and Mrs. Tort fail to understand is that I’ll read comic books and some sports magazines, but those long, boring books aren’t for me. Those things are for the girls. They like flowers and bunnies and babysitting and most of all, they like Mrs. Tort. They always say, “Mrs. Tort, you’re cool. Mrs. Tort, you’re funny.” I always hear them saying it as if it means, “Mrs. Torture Cool. Mrs. Torture Funny.” And that’s a problem because I’m funny and cool and Mrs. Tort is torturing me!
In class, it seems like it's always ME getting in all the trouble. It’s always something.
For example: I shouldn’t drink milk because it gives me gas, but Mrs. Tort won’t let me skip my milk without a doctor’s note. I hate milk, but she keeps saying I have to drink it to get big and strong. She thinks drinking milk will have me looking like all those popular people with milk mustaches living on top of their upper lip. We have a bunch of posters of them on the wall in the classroom. That’s cool for them, but milk only makes my gas BIG and STRONG.
So, every day our bathroom time is right after lunch, and by 1:00 pm, I can’t keep the gas in anymore. I mean, I try, but I just can’t. I also try to be the nice guy and go to the bathroom when the gas is at the risky level. Seriously, I really do want to save the rest of the class, but NOOO! Somehow we have this crazy rule where I would lose recess if I went before science.
RECESS!
And, since RECESS > Holding in your gas, I have no choice but to let it fly.
About 1:00 pm, my stomach sounds like two starving whales arguing over a fat shrimp. It can be so bad I get in trouble for making noises during silent reading. At about 1:05 pm I silently start science and let out the gas. Of course, the smelled-it-dealt-it rules are in full effect with the boys in the room, so we have to figure out a way to ignore the smell, not breathe, and most importantly, keep from laughing. One giggle and we all lose it. The girls hide their noses inside their shirts and Mrs. Torture brings out the powder smelling spray that gives me the sneezes. If you know anything about holding in gas and sneezing, you know those two don’t mix. In fact, it only makes things worse. Much worse. EMBARRASSING! See what I mean by Mrs. Torture not understanding?
The sneezing and everything else ends silent reading, which I hate anyway. Whoever came up with not making noise for a long time in order to read a boring book, had to really hate kids, and wanted to torture them. I’m willing to bet books for bubble gum that it was Mrs. Torture because she likes to do stuff like that to us.
I don’t know about other people, but silent reading is the worst part of the school day for me. It could be a little better if we were able to get some cool books and at least take more time to find them.
NOPE!
For some reason we’re in a hurry to pick books so we can slow down after lunch and read. As soon as we get back from the bathroom, Mrs. Torture always says, “Class, it’s time for D.E.A.R.,” which means Drop Everything And Read. In my mind, it means Death Evolves Around Reading. I hate it, so I find ways to act like I’m reading and not get caught. Every minute I turn another page I haven’t read. I shake my head like I’m watching slow motion ping pong, and Mrs. Torture never knows.
I’m glad I figured out how to ping pong read during D.E.A.R. because the last time I got caught faking, Mrs. Torture made me do a book report on the Tattle Tale Triplets. The girls loved the report and the boys laughed at me. I figured I'd be able to get even with the boys by saying that it was a book I thought they'd love. Mrs. Torture agreed, bought 12 more copies, and made all the boys read and talk about it in a big group. When it was all over, the boys in the room loved the book. They were crying about what happened at the end of the book and mad at me because I still didn’t want to read more Tattle Tale Triplets books. In the end, I didn’t have anyone to play with for three whole weeks.
Now that you know the way Mrs. Torture can treat me and the boys, you can see why I don’t want her calling to talk to my mom. I’ll end up doing tons of extra reading or my mother will sit me down and talk to me for an hour about passing gas. I had to figure out how I could avoid the phone call. I could take the phone off the hook, but that might get me in more trouble. My other idea was to go to bed really early with a stomach ache. Stomach aches let you skip dinner, so I decided to go eat some extra snacks to get full, and then I went to bed early.
This concludes The Torture. I hope you enjoyed it. Please feel free to share this with friends. Also, if you liked this, you'll also enjoy Wrinkles Wallace: Knights of Night School.
Thanks for stopping by and supporting.
Steady,
Marquin
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