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Harpreet Dhaliwal

Comedy Drama


4.0  

Harpreet Dhaliwal

Comedy Drama


School's First Day

School's First Day

3 mins 40 3 mins 40

It had been quite a ridiculous experience for me to go in that school the first day. Say you believe that you are gonna rock it and suddenly everything goes like the possibly stinky mixture of rice and pudding.                           


  I very much still believe that the girl I met as the very first person that morning hated me all her life since. Why,I theoretically had no clear fault with whatever the class in charge did to her after I made her spill the contents of her inkpot to his white shirt, most probably new.                                 


It didn't stop here. But it was actually followed by a critical interrogation by the class in charge. I quietly sat on my bench observing my peers, when came the summon. I walked to his table, the so- called Mr.Hunk.He was a science teacher. Looked exactly like Einstein, just much scarier about the face.        ' What is your name ?', he asked after examining me sometime.               


' Sarah, sir', I squeaked ( I was scared out of my wits,he seemed to be planning to swallow me up).                    'Rydinger ,sir, Sarah Rydinger.'.           'Where do you came from?'.             'Home, sir.' The class roared at this and so did the teacher, at the class and particularity at me.                     Honored at such beautiful introduction to one of my teachers,I dreadfully waited for the next. Mr. Jordan, the social science teacher. One particular thing to note about him that day was that he was bald but if you looked carefully, you could spot two straight survivors still holding positions on the top. This made me naturally laugh and therefore publicly insulted again in the class. Second teacher, same impression. But the kid I sat beside had another shock for me.


He said he had been doing it for a month now and they're now just two left. First incomprehensible for me, it finally dawned upon me that he meant the kill operation he had been doing to Mr. Jordan' s hair. I first wondered at his precision and then at the mass destruction he had effectively carried out. And then he took out his weapon. It was actually a pen's body without the refill and cleverly crafted at both ends for the passage of small paper ball. Its front part was open and at the later end a spring was effectively attached for the firing of the ball.                                 


He loaded his first shot and fired it. It hit one of those central hairs and fell down, unobserved by Mr. Jordan. The hit hair slowly unplucked itself and descended down the body. The whole class saw it , I could swear, but only it was me who roared out. Mr. Jordan told me to shut up or get out and resumed the class. I was also not heard again.                 


  But my classmate loaded another shot. There was one man standing and my classmate maybe wanted to put an end to it. He fired and missed. It hit Mr. Jordan's head not the hair. He turned around abruptly, making the last hair standing slowly descend down to his nose.           


 He looked directly at me. Why? I didn't laugh this time. He reached me and stared at me like he will break me into two. I looked down and realized that the crime weapon had been carefully placed in my lap. I gave him an awkward smile and it's very much imaginable what happened after that. That was followed by similar misfortunes and I dreaded changing schools ever since.



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