The students looked at him blankly as he wrote, “The Black Plague” on the board with his last piece of chalk.
“Who can tell me about the Black Plague?” He prompted, “Remember, we went through it last week.”
Krystal, who had changed her first name from Christine so that she could sound more exotic, considered the question as she gnawed on the contraband chewing gum in her mouth, looking like a less intelligent cow pondering milking time. “Wot, sir? You mean that thing where in New York they wear nuthin’ but black?”
Tinsel, who had unfortunately not changed her name but instead had a mother of questionable intellect high-fived Krystal without breaking eye contact with him. “Good one! Hey, sir?”
He sighed and, for not the first time today, stroked the lump of viridian on his desk.
“Wot’s that, sir?” Krystal piped up again, not willing to give up her mantel as today’s class clown, “Part of your brain?”
Tinsel and Krystal, the twins of poor Christmas decorations past, hi-fived again.
“Yes.” His response was barely heard above the raucous laughter of the classroom.
He surveyed the room and imagined every day for the rest of his life in front of imbeciles like these as he touched the lump of viridian again. “Now!” He said much more loudly.
“Now wot, sir?” Krystal searched her brain for another ‘witty’ remark when a beam of light shone through the window and the teacher disappeared.
Tinsel and Krystal did not high-five again; however, they did go to their first therapy session together.
By Ca Venz
A grand short piece. “Tinsel and Krystal, the twins of poor Christmas decorations past, hi-fived again” will live in memory, perhaps until we decorate next year’s tree.