Chapter Description: Images for this story can be found at the following web...... https://sites.google.com/view/comedy-ars-characters/home
We managed to ‘discover’ our math class far down the main hallway. The seating chart was already posted on the bulliten board with Madeline, Hoshiko, and me occupying the same seats as in homeroom.
The instructor, Mr. Major Victum, had an odd habbit of ‘smoking’ a pipe that had nothing in it. I was not sure why the school would allow it and I was even more puzzled why he would continue doing it with all the teasing he received from his students.
“Why do you puff an empty pipe?” asked Cathy Gallops.
“Because it makes me look distinguished,” the man answered, “like a college professor.”
“Actually,” said Randy Pantz, “you look more like a baby sucking on a pacifier.”
“You watch your tone, Randy,” the instructor warned. “Students,” Mr. Victum began by turning his back and writing four terms on the chalkboard, “We’ll be starting pre-algebra by covering the following four topics … integers, fractions, exponents, and square roots.”
He faced the class again and snapped his fingers. “Let’s cut the chatter, people … And hey, who turned on the TV? I’m marking ‘1 detention’ on the chalkboard every time the TV gets turned on, and whoever gets caught will have to serve ALL the detentions by his or herself.”
The students started laughing.
“I don’t see anything funny about this,” said the teacher. He asked Madeline, “Is there a ‘kick me’ sign on my back?”
“No sir.” (Madeline declined to tell him that Randy Pantz was now standing on the radiator behind the window shade and was poking the shade whenever the teacher turned in the other direction.)
“Alright, class … I still like to use the light projector and mylar sheets for instruction. The smart boards are hard to write on neatly. Let’s take a look at our first sheet on integers.”
When Mr. Victum flipped on the light switch, the image was highly out of focus, so he tried to turn the focusing knob.
“Alright, who put grease or Vaseline on the focusing knob? That is not funny in the least.”
Mr. Victum used paper towels to wipe off the knob and change the focus. When he was able to fix it, the white screen in front of the class was now filled up with a giant penis and a hairy scrotum. More laughter ensued.
“Now that is entirely uncalled for,” he scolded the class. “If you’re going to vandalize the lesson, you could at least draw on a mylar sheet instead of the glass plate. And why are you using a permanent marker? Now I need the Windex … How can you people draw this … “
“Penis?” one boy tried his talents in ventriloquism. Then many other students followed suit … They used squeaky voices and tried not to move their lips … “peniS? … peNis? … PEnis? … peeenis? … p,p,penis? … ‘cough’-penis?”
“Enough!” Mr. Victum yelled. “You are all very immature.”
The instructor finally noticed Randy Pantz. “Randy, get off the radiator and take your seat, right now … DON’T walk on top of other students desks! Try using some common sense. Hey, who turned the TV on again?” he asked while looking at me because I was the closest boy to the TV. We’re up to two detentions now for whoever gets caught. Hey, who took my teacher’s chair?”
“Randy, you have your hand up?”
“It’s in the girl’s bathroom.”
“Well, how did it get there?”
“I don’t know … You want me to get it?”
“No, you stay at your desk.”
“I’ll get it,” Starline volunteered.
“Fine … Wait, why is Duchess going with you?”
“We always go together.”
“Not this time.”
“Mr. Victum,” said Duchess, you could get in a lot of trouble for not letting a girl go to the bathroom.”
“Yeah, it’s Shark Week! Yelled Randy. “She’s got Mad Cow disease,” said Goro Grande. “She’s flying with the Red Baron,” said Showkat Gokool. “She’s got girl flu,” said Tou Young. “Aunt Rosie is paying a visit,” said BillieJo Rippatoe.”
“Fine, go … And don’t forget my chair … Alright then, who can tell me the definition of an integer? Hoshiko?”
“An integer is a whole number that can be positive or negative including zero.”
“Very good, and who can tell me … Hey wait a second, who took the mouse that was attached to my computer? Randy?”
“I didn’t do it.”
“Then why did you raise your hand?”
“To let you know that I didn’t do it.” (of course he did it)
“Mr. Victum,” said Suzie Shrank, “you don’t need a separate mouse on a laptop computer.”
“I know that, Suzie, but I just prefer to use it.”
“And who took the family photos off my desk?”
“I didn’t do it,” said Rand Pantz.
“Well I would appreciate that whoever did do it, would return them by the end of class … and why is the TV on again? We’re at three detentions, people. One student is going to be very unhappy when they’re caught.”
Duchess and Starline returned to the classroom with the teacher’s chair.
“Thank you, girls … Owwwww!! Okay, who put a thumbtack on my chair?”
“I didn’t do it,” said Randy, with his hand raised.
“Okay, people, let’s get back to math. Who can tell me the definition of a fraction? Madeline?”
“I think it’s not a whole number, but represents part of the whole.”
“Very good, Madeline. Did everyone hear that? … Hey, Randy and Duchess, PDA’s are inappropriate in math class.”
Both students replied, “Huh?”
“PDA’s are public displays of affection. This is not a kiss-and-tell party. If you want to make out, get a room.”
“But Mr. Victum,” said Randy, “we’re already in a room.”
“Well, then move your desks two feet farther apart.”
The instructor then took the pipe out of his mouth and started sniffing the air. “Does anyone else smell that?” he asked.
“Smell what?” asked several students.
The man brought the pipe back up to his nose and immediately, his entire face winced.
“Ooooooohhhhhhhh, that is awful!” he exclaimed. “Who put poop in my pipe? You, know, that is really, really disgusting. What is wrong with you people?”
“I didn’t do it,” said Randy, raising his hand again.
“Well, despite the distractions, we need to get through this lesson, folks.” He returned to the light projector. “Who can tell me the definition of an exponent? … Derrek?”
I raised my hand for the first time, but didn’t want to appear overly smart. “Isn’t that where you multiply the same number a bunch of times?”
“You’re on the right track, Derrek. The exponent is written above and to the right of a number to indicate that we’re raising it to a power.
“Did you say power?” asked Goro Grande. “Hey, everybody! It’s time for a ‘power’ clap. Ready? … one , two , three,”
((( CLAP !!!))) The entire class clapped once.
The instructor was not happy about it. “Students, that will be the LAST power clap of this school year. The ONLY person who has power in this classroom is ME … and the only voice I want to hear when I’m talking is my own.”
“Oww! What’s that noise?!” a few students cried out.
“What noise?” asked Mr. Victum, as the entire class put their hands over their ears. “I don’t hear anything. This is obviously another attempt at a prank. Take your hands off your ears.”
The noise suddenly stopped and the students obeyed.
“Back to the lesson. Who can tell me the definition of a square root?”
“Owwwwww!! It’s back!” … And all the students covered their ears again.
“What’s back?” the teacher demanded.
“The noise … Can’t you hear it?” said several students. “It’s like a piercing tone.”
“There is NO NOISE!!” the instructor yelled. “Put your hands down now!”
When the sound finally abated again, Randy asked, “Why do you hate kids so much?”
“I don’t hate kids,” the teacher answered. “I just will not allow inappropriate behavior in the classroom.”
Goro Grande waved off the instructor’s words. “Naaaaaaahhh … That’s just a bunch of psycho-babble, Mr. Victum. We know you hate us … So why did you decide to become a teacher anyway.”
In a dead-pan voice, the man said, “All the jobs for astronauts and brain surgeons were taken. All that was left was middle school math teacher.”
“So how much money do you make?” asked Showkat.
“For what I have to put up with … not nearly enough.”
(As a twelve-year-old, I could hear the piercing tone. But most adults can’t hear tones of 15,000 hertz frequency which Randy was playing on his chromebook.)
The large boy, Goro, whispered to Randy, “Hey, I’ll give you a buck if you spray Windex in your mouth.”
The next time the teacher turned his back, Randy raced up to the front desk and did exactly that. Then he stuck out his tongue and said, “Bllleehhhhhhhhh, you owe me a buck.”
“What? Randy, are you crazy?” asked Mr. Victum. “You could poison yourself! Go take your seat and behave yourself … Where’s your brain?”
The whole class responded, “He’s SITTING on it.”
“Mr. Victum, can I go to the bathroom again?”
“Starline, you just went a few minutes ago.”
“But I go when I need to … unlike your grunting knuckle-walkers like Goro Grande who saves them up so he can drop fart bombs all over our classroom.”
Amid laughter, Goro dropped from his seat and laid on the floor in mock agony. “Ohhh! I’ve been stabbed!” he cried out.
“Hey Goro,” said Randy, “I think Starline is hitting on you.”
“Should I hit her back?”
“That’s enough nonsense, class,” Mr. Victum scolded. “Let’s return to our lesson. Who can tell me the definition of a square root?
A boy raised his hand. “I think it’s where something times something equals the number you want.”
“Wait a second,” said the instructor. “Are you supposed to be here? Who are you?”
“I’m Mike Hunt.”
“Let me check my roster … This is odd … I’m sorry, but Mike Hunt is not in this class.”
(Students became uproarious again, with Mr. Victum oblivious to the notion that ‘Mike Hunt’ sounds exactly like ‘my cunt’.)
“So why are you here, Mike?”
“I have study hall now. I just wanted to hang out with my friends.”
“Leave my classroom now, please.”
“Fine, you don’t have to get so huffy about it.”
“Back to our question … What is a square root?”
“I didn’t have my hand raised.”
“No, but I saw you trying to pass a note to Duchess. If it’s so important, why don’t you come to the front of the class and read it aloud for everyone.”
“Do I really have to?” Randy stewed.
The instructor curled his index finger and pointed to the front.
“Umm, umm,” the boy started nervously, “This is a poem I wrote for Duchess.”
“Eewwww …. Ohhhhhhhh,” the class perked up.
Randy unfolded his paper and began … reading out loud to everyone in the class.
Your eyes are like starlights, your lips are so sweet,
Your hair is so silky, your smile is a treat,
Your face is as lovely as lovely can be,
But your tits are too little for me.
At a wet Tee shirt contest, they kept you all dry,
It was quite apparent, they thought you were a guy,
To impersonate plywood, you could charge a high fee,
And your tits are too little for me.
Well you say that it’s not your fault, but it sure as hell ain’t mine,
You claim to be a Pisces, but a pancake should be your sign,
Godzilla with big boomers is my philosophy,
And your tits are too little for me.
Randy received a roaring standing ovation from most of the students.
Mr. Victum shook his head and said, “That is totally disgusting. Go take your seat.”
Duchess Hartless rose from her seat to get the attention of the class. “Hey you guys,” she called out, “I just want to state for the official record … My tits are NOT too little … They’re fun size.”
“Classs, let’s get back to square roots.”
Mr. Victum turned and wrote the square root of 16 on the chalkboard. As he did so, a rather substantial wad of wet paper (a spitball) came flying from an unknown direction and landed perfectly on the teacher’s neck and went down the back of his shirt. Then the bell rang.
“Class … for homework … Do the first ten problems in chapter one … and hey … who turned on the TV? That’s four, people … four detentions.”