Welcome Back (Redux)

[deaths_heritor]

[backdated to the first day of school]
[Schoolyard rumors spread as quickly as wildfire in the dry fields.  In lunch hours and in recess, students huddled in corners and spoke amongst themselves of... The Teacher.  They said The Teacher was the strictest of disciplinarians, maintaining control of the classroom with an iron ruler and a steely gaze.

Comments

[strike_you_out]

[At one of the desks and in clear view sits a familiar student from the previous school year. Others may think he's insane (and they might be correct) but despite The Teacher's reputation, he's repeating the class of his own volition. Unlike last year, he's awake, attentive and grinning.

He'd be a model student if he weren't using his desk as a footrest, and if the textbook he's holding were right-side up, and if he did not have two ends of a snapped pencil lodged into both ear canals. At least he's being quiet?]

[deaths_heritor]

[Slugger receives nothing more than a brief eyebrow-raise until such time as Susan has opportunity to walk by his row. The snapped pencil is snatched away.]

Ruptured eardrums are quite painful, I hear. Try a cotton wad.

[strike_you_out]

[The world gets a little bit louder when the pencil pieces are removed. Slugger looks up at her and just continues to grin in an idly devious sort of way.]

Miss Susan, will I have to write poetry again?

[Wasn't it painful enough for both of them the first time?]

[deaths_heritor]

Poetry isn't until the spring semester, thankfully. Would that be enough time to accumulate an appropriate amount of aspirin, do you think?

[strike_you_out]

[The grin is suddenly gone and he looks mildly affronted.]

Can I submit the ones from last year?

[deaths_heritor]

I'm afraid I've already discarded all of last year's papers. Unless you still remember it?

[strike_you_out]

[On the verge of panic, he sits up and clutches the book tightly in his hands.]

You still have the grades, right?

[Have mercy on him, Miss Susan. He's your "son". YOUR "SON".]

[deaths_heritor]

Well. It isn't as if I expected anyone to want to repeat my class.

[Susan is totally lying and never throws away anything.]

[strike_you_out]

...

[Susan will receive a long, devastated stare after which Slugger carefully closes his book, puts his feet on the floor and rests his head on the desk.]

[deaths_heritor]

If it makes you feel any better, you have all year to practice your haiku.

[strike_you_out]

[...and now putting his arms over his head just to ham it up a little more...]

[deaths_heritor]

Despondent student
Regrets his choice of actions
Perhaps a limerick?

[strike_you_out]

[He peeks up at her.]

Can I use that one?

[deaths_heritor]

[Slugger receives an affectionate head-slap.]

You have more than four months. Don't be lazy.

[strike_you_out]

[Ah, to be reintroduced to the horrors of poetry. What a plight. Slugger sighs but at least he's sitting up now. Really, he's not all that upset--he just enjoys giving her a hard time.]

...Yes, Miss Susan.

[deaths_heritor]

Good lad.

We can pin them to your father's bed if you manage any particularly clever ones.

[It's like putting things up on the refrigerator but not.]