The Biscuits

Everyone knows that he only closes his office door behind you for reprimands. And for the fourth time this semester it was my turn.

Some marijuana hybrids make you paranoid if you smoke them at 6 AM on the way to work with nothing else on your stomach but stale convenience store coffee.

I knew that I’d be fired this time for certain. Or at least I feared that I would. The thought washed through me like slight relief quite honestly until I remembered that I needed to eat every day thereafter.
“Miss Honecker, we have been through this a thousand times. Its your responsibility to control your home room class. They are not permitted to be gallivanting through the hallways without passes and they must certainly not be constantly caught smoking cigarettes in the lavatories! Can I trust you to take care of this immediately?”
He faced the window as he delivered his admonishment, which was unusual since this was the favorite part of any principal’s job, treating the teachers like older students.
I did the appropriate amount of apologizing, threw in a few William Arthur Ward quotes for good measure and topped it off with a few fake smiles before I nearly ran out of his office.
I had narrowly saved my job but for what? I wasn’t going to be awarded tenure because none of the English Teachers would ever quit or die before I was old enough to garner social security myself. There wasn’t a reason to look for another school either, since this was the best system in the state, the rest couldn’t past state tests and the weather everywhere else was for shit.

I instantly wanted one of the delicious weed brownies my roommate had made for us last night to calm myself down but I forgot to carry one with me when I left this morning. Oversleeping will have that effect. I was so glad that she was my best friend. She always knew exactly the right thing to keep me calm since I worked in such a hostile environment.

If these kids are the future I thought, we are most certainly doomed.
What the Principal didn’t seem to understand about my homeroom was that these kids were awful. All of them should have graduated from high school years ago but hadn’t. Some of them were bad parents already. Some had criminal records. Few of them could read aloud. Others couldn’t read at all. And sure, I should have felt motherly toward them, and excited to teach them but they made it abundantly clear every single day that school wasn’t worth their time. Nothing mattered to them. One girl wore an IDGAF shirt every Thursday and was never expelled because it was so tight that her nipples would show through it so when I wrote her up every Friday, miraculously she was always excused.

Take Roger Forester.
Roger is 19 with a 2 year old and another one on the way. Roger’s father allegedly runs a Klu Klux Klan Chapter posing as a 4 H club. Allegedly he and his son Roger took turns beating Roger’s mother to death because she missed a Church service once. It’s pretty obvious he only attends homeroom because its right before his Chemistry lab where according to the Chemistry teacher all he does is ask questions about how to make meth.

Miss Honecker, Roger Asks, do you prefer big black dick?

Take Charlie Cooper.
Charlie seems to be a smart girl but actually she is incredibly manipulative for a 16 year old. She’s had several of the so called nerds who used to do her homework beaten up by the football team when they threatened to confess or raised their paper writing rates. Her home phone number, cell phone number and therapist’s phone numbers are constantly scribbled on the bath room stalls in the ladies room if you’re looking for a good time. The child never wears more than band aids on her breasts (except for the IDGAF shirt on fucking Thursdays) and paper thin skirts regardless of the weather. This year she has given up on doing work entirely since she can suck off the male teachers and let the female teachers lick the inside of her ass.

Miss Honecker, Charlie says, I’m leaving early every day this week. The firehouse guys go to lunch during my homeroom and they said they want to show me how to work the hose. Should totally count for my credit, right?

Take Pepper Jones.

Pepper is very smart, articulate and well read for a 17 year old. He could easily pass for 21. He tries harder than the other kids at his studies being the only black male student at the school. But Pepper is spoiled. His adoptive white parents who clearly felt like taking him in improved their charitable ways and likability in the community give him no restrictions to abide by other than straight A’s. Pepper has been accused of rape twice, his Freshman year and last year and both times before it ever saw court, the girls were whisked out of the county with fat checks and never heard from again. He often gloats in the cafeteria that his parents had those girls killed.

Miss Honecker, Pepper laughs, Did you ever answer Roger’s question?

My home room has another 14 students just like them.
They come into the classroom when they feel like it, leave when they want to and give me death glares. They make out with each other, play pranks on me and the other staff and are generally just monsters. I’m pretty sure that if I weren’t stoned out of my mind every day that I would have choked the life out of half of them by now.

But something has to give.
If these kids are the future I thought, we are most certainly doomed.

Maybe tomorrow I will get them all baked out of their minds as a goof.
Maybe tomorrow I will bring in a whole dish of my roommate’s weed biscuits and feed them to the little cunts and see if they calm down. Wouldn’t that be lovely? Then I will call the Principal right into the classroom so that he can see how well mannered the little shits are for once and will stop threatening me.
Best idea you’ve ever had Honecker, I smiled.
Maybe I just figured out how to deal with ruthless, disturbed, offensive, disgusting prepubescent little assholes by feeding them the best Indica they will ever have in their short miserable lives. I was feeling quite satisfied with the idea and knew my roommate would always come through for me because best friends always help each other out in a pinch.

Best idea you’ve ever had Honecker, complete best, I thought over and over on the ride home.

Because something had to give.

Maybe tomorrow would be the best day of all of our high school careers.
I was so excited I’d have to get stoned just to get some sleep.

******   ****** ********

The Principal pushed past the crime scene tape to let the local lead detective into the former Miss Honecker’s Homeroom.
“Any survivors?” The Detective asked the Principal.

“No.” He responded while trying desperately to show the right amount of emotion and empathy.

The hallway was filled with teachers trying to comfort hysterical students and hold back angry parents. Cameras and news paper people jammed the school lawn and alleyways for a glimpse of the room, for a sell-able photo of the dead teacher and any of her former students. There is always money to be made in fantastic deaths nowadays.

The crime scene investigator said to the lead detective,“Sir, there’s a letter here in the empty tin. It must have been full of the biscuits on top of it because its covered in cookie grease.”

“ Thanks, Greta, bag it and then let me have a look at that please.”

The CSI put the notebook paper letter in an evidence bag, shook her head sadly and handed it to the detective.

The letter read:

I will never forgive you Amy Honecker, never, so here’s your last batch of what you think are just weed biscuits. There’s not one drop of weed in them and as soon as you bite into one you will be vomiting for the next week, you piece of shit! How many years have I supported your habits? How many years have you lived with me, rent free? How many of my family members have you slept with over the years behind my back, you, whore? You stole my job at that school right after I told you that I interviewed there and you have the nerve to complain to me about it every god damned day. You don’t even have a teaching license and I never ratted you out! I couldn’t have possibly hated you more until you slept with my boyfriend when I went to visit your sick grandmother last month and guess what, I got tested you crazy bitch and now Jeff and I both have syphilis because of you. Syphilis makes you crazy you incredibly selfish slutty asshole! I’ve already turned over to the police the videos you made of you, Pepper, Roger and that girl Charlie fucking in my house in my bed last week! They probably have herpes too now and god knows what else! You disgust me and I never want to see you ever again! I really hope you eat a whole cookie you sick fucker and die! You have ruined so many people’s lives and you just don’t care at all! Just know, all of the clothes you stole from me have been burned and the locks have been changed to the apartment. By the time you eat enough of these to read this letter you pig, you will finally know why you’ve been sick. You deserve so much more pain. Enjoy the shits, tramp.
Everyone knows and now you do too that your best teacher you monster, is your last mistake.

“Open and shut. Go pick up the roommate.” The Detective told his partner. The CSIs took pictures and evidence and disappeared into the crowd.

The principal closed the home room door behind him and turned off the light.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.