A Comedy of AR's

by: Sammderr | Story In Progress | Last updated Apr 19, 2024


Chapter 11
CHAPTER 111 ....... Day Two … If Teachers Fight, Do They Get Detention?


Chapter Description: Images for this story can be found at the following web...... https://sites.google.com/view/comedy-ars-characters/home


CHAPTER  111



Since my desk in row one was actually a few feet from the side wall, there was a clear path for Coach Parker to make a right turn and continue pushing Harry back, back, back and into the office/storage room that Harry shared with Professor Clinkenbeard in the adjacent classroom.

 

His next move made us all gasp in horror.  My classmates and I, in row one, had a perfect view to watch the coach pick up Harry around his waist and dump his entire body into the rolling bin full of penises.

 

Their momentum forced the rolling bin forward … and into the bio lab where a shocked professor and a room full of students expressed sounds of boisterous dismay.  I could no longer just sit there.  I ran after my teachers and tried to yell at them to stop.

 

Instead, Harry grabbed the nearest weapon … a two-foot long dolphin penis that Hoshiko and I had named Flipper.  He slapped it across the coach’s face so hard that he staggered back, giving Harry a breather.  I actually helped the man get out of the bin and then begged him to stop.

 

But for now, Harry had no choice.  Coach Parker had picked up the dead donkey dick which Goro and Showkat had named Eeyore (after Winnie the Pooh’s friend) and he took a wild swing at the Geography teacher.  It struck his opponent’s upper arm.

 

A big mammal penis turned out to be a good weapon, and the two teachers assaulted one another as if engaged in a whipping bout with Indiana Jones.  They spun their penises in big circles over their heads … and let them fly.

 

--WHACK!!—

 

--WHACK!!—

 

Amidst the screaming students, Professor Clinkenbeard dialed up the principal’s office.

 

“Dr. Glass, could you please send security to the bio lab.  Two of my colleagues have grabbed my penises and are hitting each other.  This sets a terrible example for the children.  It’s like a war zone.”

 

The principal was a bit confused.  “Dr. Clinkenbeard?  You said they grabbed your penis?  Are you talking about two teachers?”

 

“Yes, please get some security guards here quickly.”

 

In a few seconds, her announcement was broadcast on the school’s public address.  “Security to the bio lab STAT … Security to the bio lab STAT.”

 

My two combative teachers froze in place.  Coach Parker said, “Shit, they’re going to fire us!”

 

Harry Torrain agreed.  “It’s cleanup time.”

 

I watched as my two teachers put their big penises back in the rolling bin which they wheeled back into the storage room.  Harry looked at the professor, saying ‘Hey Clink’, and put his index finger up to his own lips indicating a plea for Professor Clinkenbeard not to tattle on them. 

 

“It was just a misunderstanding,” Harry said softly.

 

I raced back to my desk in Harry’s classroom while the two teachers made a mad dash right behind me to clean the place up … resetting the dented world globe, and picking up the broken yardsticks.

 

The doors to the adjoining office/storage room were still open, so I could hear the voices of the two security guards when they entered the bio lab.

 

“Did you just have two teachers fighting in here?” they asked the professor.

 

“Sorry I bothered you guys,” said the professor.  “Turns out they were just joking around.  They went back next door to Geography.”

 

One guard turned to the students.  “Did you kids see any teachers fighting?”

 

“All 24 students shrugged their shoulders and said ‘nope’.

 

When the two security guards came through the office and into my classroom, they saw Harry at the front wall map pointing his third yardstick at Egypt, with the coach asking, “You mean the pyramids are nearly five thousand years old?  That’s amazing.”

 

“Harry replied, “There’s a famous saying … ‘Man fears time, but time fears the pyramids’.”

 

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” said the first guard.  “But were you two fighting in the bio lab?”

 

Coach Parker smiled and answered, “Oh that?  Nah, I was just razzing Harry a little.”  The coach slapped the side of Harry’s shoulder and added, “We’re actually good pals.”

 

Harry added, “Sorry, we’ll try to be quieter next time.”

 

The security guard nodded.  “Well, alright then.  Good day, gentlemen.”

 

Within ten seconds after the guards left the room, Coach Parker pointed at Harry and said, “If you ever again hurt one of my players, I’ll be back to finish the job I started.”

 

The unflappable Scary Harry retorted, “Oh, bring it on, coach … only next time you’re gonna need a bigger penis.”

 

 

 

 

 

I decided that Scary Harry is one weird dude.  On the outside, he looks like somebody’s grandpa.  But he is definitely not your ordinary run-of-mill teacher … and ‘scary’ was a perfect description.

 

Seventh and Eighth period brought a return to normality, and I was really psyched up to get to football practice on time.  When I got to the locker room, Captain X approached me immediately and said, “Let’s get your gear on.”

 

From the equipment room he grabbed what I needed and started with the pants.

 

“These are integrated compression pants,” he began.  (The term was unknown to me.)

 

“Look, Derrek, all the pads are built in … hip pads, knee pads, and tailbone pad.  It’s a tight fit, but it’s supposed to be.”

 

I asked, “Should I first put on a jock strap and a cup?”

 

“Nope, the compression pants keep your balls snug to your body.  They won’t be flying around.  Falling on a cup would hurt more that a punch to the groin.  Now put on your outer pants … Lace up your crotch just like a shoe.  And then put your belt through the two metal loops to tighten it.”

 

“X,  I think I really screwed up the shoulder pads yesterday.”

 

“No shit, Sherlock.  You put them on first, and then tried to put your jersey over it.”

 

“How did you know that, X?”

 

The team captain shook his head.  “You’ve really never played football before, have you?  And playing against your mom doesn’t count.”

 

“No, I haven’t.”

 

“Try putting the jersey over the shoulder pads first.  It’ll make it a lot easier.  When you’ve got it on, just buckle it like a life jacket.”

 

(I couldn’t believe how much stuff I had to put on.  In basketball, you hardly need anything.)

 

“Now the helmet, Derrek.  Make sure it’s a snug fit.  You don’t want it wiggling around your head.  Then the chin guard straps snap on … on each side.  The mouth guard stays attached to your face mask.  Pop it in before a play starts.  Did you bring your cleats?”

 

“Uh, Yeah, they’re right here.”

 

“Perfect … You look great, Derrek.  Time to huddle up.  Let’s go!”

 

Then X slapped my butt, almost as hard as Sammantha does.  It was a time-honored football tradition.  Man, that kid is strong.

 

In front of the locker room, there was a large team room adjacent to the coachs’ offices.  In it were a few long benches and some dry erase boards for diagramming plays.  With a full team present, Coach Parker spoke first.

 

“Gentlemen, we are the ‘Nads’.  And when the crowd shouts ‘Go Nads’, we go hard on every play all the time, one hundred percent, even in practice. Is that understood?”

 

(team)  “Yes, SIR.”

 

“You all know your coaches by now.  This is Coach Matthew, Coach Mark, and Coach Luke.  We’ve yet to hire a Coach John, but all three of these guys used to play for this middle school team and up at the high school after that.”

 

“Gentelmen, there are three cardinal rules on this team … no whining, no complaining, and no excuses.  I don’t want to hear you asking why some other kid gets to play a position instead of you.  That’s whining … I don’t want you saying that you can’t do a task because your shoes are too loose or your helmet’s too tight.  That’s complaining.”

 

“And I especially don’t want to hear excuses.”  (The coach pointed at me.)  “Adams!  Why were you late for practice yesterday?”

 

I spoke up straight.  “I was in detention sir.  And that’s a poor excuse.  It won’t happen again.”

 

The coach roared, “You’re damn right it’s a poor excuse.  If any of you boys get detention, then you negotiate a time and place where it doesn’t interfere with your team.  If not, you tell me.  Because what you do on this field is equally important as what you do in the classroom.”

 

“That little girl teaching Spanish is nothing but a perra pequita. You’re bigger than her, Adams.  Do you know what a perra pequita is?”

 

“Yes, sir.  I do.”

 

“Tell your teammates what a perra pequita is.”

 

“A little bitch, sir.”

 

(level two laughter by my teammates.)

 

The coach continued.  “And what about you, Mr. Pantz?  Why did you miss practice yesterday?”

 

Randy was fortunately back at practice with gloves on his hands.  “I was injured by a teacher … and that’s a poor excuse, sir.”

 

“You’re damn right that’s a poor excuse.  Boys, your number one priority is to protect your team.  Show up!  In fact, for the rest of your life, show up 15 minutes early for every appointment.  It demonstrates respect.”

 

“Randy, as soon as your hand started bleeding, you should have run out of there, run down to my office, and let me take care of it.  Because if I have to smack Scary Harry fifty times across his head with a dead donkey dick, then I’ll do it with pleasure.”

 

(Level three laughter from the teammates … louder than level two.)

 

“Do NOT let your team down.”

 

Randy nodded.  “Yes, sir.”

 

“Men, there are seven other teams in the East Buffalo Conference, and we will defeat all seven of them!  Am I right?!

 

(team)  “YES, SIR!!”

 

“Our squad might be small … but our talent, our heart, and our guts are bigger than all of them.”

 

“We’ve got the best lineman in the league in Big-O, Otto Brown.  We’ve got the quickest runningback with Showkat Gokool, and we’ve got the best receiver in Putz Goldfarb … although that prima donna kid we’re facing Friday might beg to differ.  What’s his name, that Mister Number 2 ?”

 

“Liberty Fabian, Coach,” said Putz.

 

“Yeah, even his name sounds like a prima ballerina.  But to hell with him.  We’ve also got the greatest team leader in the United States of America … the man, the myth, the legend … your captain … Dilinger X VonChompion.”



 


 

End Chapter 11

A Comedy of AR's

by: Sammderr | Story In Progress | Last updated Apr 19, 2024

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