“These essays are good.” My English teacher, Professor Dickbore, says from behind his Very Serious mahogany podium. He shuffles through them, nodding approvingly. “All save one.” He looks over top of his genius-villain spectacles, canvassing his students with a dead-eyed gaze. “Kent Wayne. Your pathetic attempt at communicative writing is nothing short of an abomination.”
Gulp. My adam’s apple slides up and down. “Ah, if I could just say a few words in my defense…”
“Grammar is non-negotiable.” He grasps the papers in one hand, turning them into a makeshift tube, and points them directly at my face. “Your essay doesn’t just break the rules; it bends them over the side of a barrel and violates their anus with a rusty coat hanger. Unacceptable, Kent. UN. ACCEPTABLE.”
I gather my things and rise to my feet. “Well, if there’s nothing more…”
“BRING ME HIS SCROTUM!” Dickbore screams.
His Grammar Nazi thralls chant, “YES, MILORD!” Then they rush me in a snarling tide of pasty limbs, receding hairlines, and jawline-devoid faces.
Not only do I lift regularly, I’ve also acquired a moderate degree of hobbyist jiu-jitsu. But still—I’m no match for dozens of goons. I manage to hip-toss one and blood-choke another before the rest swarm me. We all go down in a giant clatter of desks and books.
Fuck it. No options left. So I reach into my pocket and open my eReader to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
Like manna from heaven, protein powder materializes above us and begins to drift gently down. As it alights on the Grammar Nazis’ skin, they spontaneously burst into flames and scramble every which way. One of them blurts out guttural grunts—RUH! RUH! RUUUUUUUUHHH!!!—before crashing through a fifth-story window and plummeting five stories to his gruesome death. Another shits out his entire ensemble of vital organs. Predictably enough, his still-beating heart is little more than a blackened, stunted remnant.
(Protein powder: serves as a valuable tool for recovery and performance, and as a lethal deterrent against crazed Grammar Nazis. Who knew???)
Exit me, stage left. I run out of the classroom, cackling in glee. Kent Wayne escapes again! Ha HA!
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