"Purple Kid, get up here now," Came Mr. Mufflin's deep, angry voice. The two boys in the back of the class cowered and hugged each other nervously at the sound the distressed voice. It sounded much scarier when a screamer was talking softly.
Fanboy gulped nervously and whispered something to Chum Chum. Chum Chum nodded and skipped to the door, Fanboy watching him forlornly. Mr. Mufflin looked at him intently as the Talking Raccoon finally left.
The man stared back at the young child, who still sat at his desk, and looked back with a defiant gaze. Keeping his temper intact the bet he could, he lifted a finger and motioned Fanboy to sit in the smaller seat located next to his desk.
Fanboy shuffled over apprehensively, gloved hands clasped behind his hunching back, and wearing a nervous half-smile. Mr. Mufflin folded his hands on the desk and slapped the boy with a look so terrible: he actually flinched before sitting down.
"I gave you three chances," Mr. Mufflin growled. He glared at the young child, who averted his eyes. Fanboy rubbed the back of his neck and gave an uneasy laugh. "I-I was just…" He silenced himself when Mr. Mufflin leaned forward.
"I don't want your excuses," the teacher snarled. "All day, every day, the Purple Kid and the Talking Raccoon make my life completely miserable at this school, in this classroom!" Fanboy bit his lip in nervousness. "But no. It isn't him. It's you. You manipulate. You are the one making all of those disruptions! You know the rules of the classroom!" the man went on. "I give you the simplest of tasks: sit down, be quiet, and pay attention to what I am teaching the class! This goes by for everyone, including you! Why can't you follow those rules? …Those simple as heck rules?"
Fanboy shrugged slightly, "I-I don't know. It's just that—well all my friends and I are sitting together, and I like talking to them—"
"But does everyone chatter? NO! Does everyone make a disruption in my class? NO! Does everyone make a complete fool out of me in my own classroom?" he jabbed a finger in Fanboy's face, which flinched in fear. "NO! IT'S ONLY YOU!" For once, the child was speechless.
Mr. Mufflin stood up from his desk and walked behind Fanboy, who was now scared out of his mind and did not dare move. "I-I'm sorry," he whispered. "I-I won't be bad in class anymore."
Mr. Mufflin smiled and leaned down close to Fanboy's ear, who just stared straight ahead. "No. You won't. And I've decided that I've never punished you enough. …Detention? That obviously doesn't work."
Fanboy worked up the courage to tilt his head and look at Mr. Mufflin. "Are you going to make me write sentences on the blackboard?"
Mr. Mufflin smirked. "No."
"O-Oh. Are you going to make me…clean the classroom?"
Once again Mr. Mufflin answered, "No."
"Then what do I do—?" He instantly silenced himself, for his teacher gripped his lanky shoulder harshly, digging his sharp fingernails into the boy. Fanboy sat frozen as Mr. Mufflin growled in his ear, "I have put up with you for many years and not once have you gotten what you deserve! It's time that you've learned your lesson. It's time that you've felt the pain that you have put me through!"
Fanboy's emerald eyes widened and his jaw went slack. He slowly averted his eyes to the wooden classroom door, wondering if he could make a dash for it. He sat rigid when Mr. Mufflin let go of his shoulder, walked over to the door, and locked it. He smirked at the boy, who had begun to cry.
"D-Don't hurt me!" Fanboy whimpered bringing his knees up to his face to hide his tears. He was beyond terrified now, and Mr. Mufflin was clearly enjoying it. He stepped over to the boy, gripped his ear, and started yanking him to the back of the classroom—The Shunning Cave, all while Fanboy cried, "C-Chum Chum! HELP"
"Shut up," Mr. Mufflin snapped, pinning the boy down to the rocky ground. Fanboy was too terrified to move, and the man began to search for items in a duffel bag, which he had brought along.
Emerged from the bag were thin ropes, and he used them to tie Fanboy's wrists and legs together. He let the child fall on his side and to continue to weep. Mr. Mufflin was a bit surprised that Fanboy hadn't tried to escape yet. He was always so confident around his friends, but then again, a child is still a child.
The middle-aged teacher was a bit concerned about the volume of Fanboy's crying and slapped two layers of Heavy-Duty duct tape over his mouth. Fanboy began to struggle now, and Mr. Mufflin tightened the ropes until the child's hands and legs went numb, and he lay shivering and terrified.
Mr. Mufflin leaned down to the boy and stared deep into the quivering emerald eyes with his own brown ones. "If you ever scream while I'm punishing you, you're dead. That's it. If anyone hears you whining, I won't hesitate to end your life. And I'm sure your friends wouldn't want that. Got it?" Fanboy nodded quickly and the man grinned.
The first thing that Mr. Mufflin did was remove Fanboy's mask and gloves and shoes. "As you can see," the teacher explained, "I've littered the floor of the Shunning Cave with glass. It's all around us. If ever try to escape, you won't get more than three feet without dying from blood loss. It obviously wouldn't hurt me—I have bolts at the bottom of my shoes, and your shoes protected you." He tossed the converse and other articles of clothing into the darkness. Fanboy lowered his head to hide his face once the mask was removed, and his hands, which had probably never touched anything but the fabric of his gloves, were fragile and curled up into fists.
Mr. Mufflin searched through the duffel bag and Fanboy watched him cautiously. The teacher drew out a thick, metal yardstick. He tossed it from and to hand and waved it in a hypnotic way front of Fanboy's eyes, who watched in nervousness.
"I remember the old days," Mr. Mufflin said, "the days where when a student was punished he was whipped with one of these." He gently waved it in front of Fanboy's face, and his emerald eyes followed it.
Then, without warning, Mr. Mufflin whipped the child's face with it, so hard in fact, that the super-fan fell backwards onto his back, onto broken glass, the smacking sound echoing throughout the darkness. He heard Fanboy's muffled cries and whimpers, his body trembling in pain. "MMPH!"
Mr. Mufflin whipped him again, much harder this time. …And again. …And again. …And again. The yardstick had begun to dig into Fanboy's flesh that would soon turn into scars. The glass dug into his skin and left small cuts.
The strikes to the forehead was the worst, for it was mostly bone against metal, and the amount of force the contact had caused made Fanboy's brain rattle. The yardstick became wet with blood and tears, and Mr. Mufflin tossed it back into the duffel bag after about two minutes of beating. Fanboy continued to sob his muffled sobs, not quite believing what was happening. His innocence was shattered.
Mr. Mufflin gripped Fanboy's chin, wetting his hand with blood in the process, and jerked his head to face him. "Are you going to talk to me?" The child shook his head clear. "Mmph?" "I said ARE YOU TO TALK TO ME?!" Mr. Mufflin shouted in Fanboy's face.
The younger male recoiled and shook his head quickly, his tears making contact with Mr. Mufflin's hand. "Good." The man smiled sadistically, caressing Fanboy's cheek gently. "Good boy."
He then slowly pulled away the duct tape from Fanboy's mouth, causing the boy to flinch. The teacher watched the boy intently, staring deep into his emerald tear-filled eyes. Fanboy sniffed, wanting nothing more to scream for help and escape from this awful man, but he kept his mouth shut as blood and tears trailed down his face. "Have you learned your lesson about talking out of turn?" Fanboy just nodded rather shakily.
"Good. You should never talk in class unless you raise your hand and I call on you. Got it?" Mr. Mufflin asked. Fanboy nodded once more and timidly raised his ungloved hand, at least as far as it could go, seeing that it was tied up. Mr. Mufflin nodded in consent.
Fanboy took a deep breath. He felt so scared, so helpless, but he had to be brave—for Chum Chum. "Mr. Mufflin?" He whispered, scared.
"Yes?"
"H-How… W-Why are you doing this? I-I don't want to—I want to go home!" Fanboy shut his eyes once more as his head throbbed in pain. "I-I'm scared!"
"You should be. You are being punished. And being punished isn't supposed to be a happy experience." Fanboy did not know what to say to that, so he burst into tears and Mr. Mufflin felt a burst of dominance course through him. He had constantly craved power, and prior to now, when Fanboy was winning control of his classroom, oh, he had to bring that boy down in the harshest of ways. And now, the Purple Kid was so helpless and pathetic—not strong at all, just a weak, defenseless child—and he ought to be, in Mr. Mufflin's classroom.
"Now take off your clothes." The teacher ordered. Fanboy's eyes nearly doubled in size as he frantically shook his head from side to side. "NO!" he cried, wriggling his body in effort to move away. "No! You can't—!"
"Shut up. Do you think I'm going to violate you? That would be disgusting," Mr. Mufflin retched in revulsion. He then detached Fanboy's shackles and permitted him to move freely, but only within the bare circle not littered with glass. The child eyed him in terror and buried his beaten face in his knees. Mr. Mufflin waved the yardstick in the air. "Do you want another thrashing?"
"Nuh-uh."
"Then do as I say."
It took awhile, but Hank Mufflin at last managed to get Fanboy to strip himself of his clothing. He assembled himself, shivering in the cold cave air, naked, a furious blush spreading over his face, and bunching his knees so that his teacher couldn't really see anything, but not for long.
"Stand up," Mr. Mufflin ordered. Fanboy cried, begged, and pleaded with his teacher, but finally complied after another slap in the face. Being careful of his wounds, he was soon standing up, and overexposing his body. He had never been so embarrassed in his life and he covered his face with his ungloved hands. "Put your hands at your sides!"
Fanboy bit his lip and blinked back tears, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as Mr. Mufflin circled him with a whip in his hand, whispering insulting names to the child. Every once in a while Hank would whip Fanboy's body, causing him to double over in pain. "…GAHH! STOP IT!" Fanboy cried after the first lash. "STOP IT! STOP HURTING ME!" He tried pleading with Mr. Mufflin, but the man paid no attention. "Shut it! You deserve this!"
Mr. Mufflin whipped his shoulder blades, stomach, collar bone, the back of his thighs, and even his face, leaving long, bloody scratches to trail over his body.
Soon, Fanboy had collapsed from the pain, face-down on the rocky surface of the Shunning Cave, and yet Mr. Mufflin would not cease to beat him. "S-Stop it Mr. Mufflin…S-Stop…" Fanboy moaned, almost inaudibly.
Deep, angry slashes now covered Fanboy from head to toe, but Hank was careful about hitting places where the child's costume wouldn't cover up the evidence: some of his forearms, and the lower half of his face. Everywhere else was attacked without mercy.
The wounds that crawled all over Fanboy's body looked like thin but abundant snakes—red, bloody ones, and he had never felt so mortified. He sobbed quietly, curling up into a little ball, even though moving felt like fire was engulfing his body.
Mr. Mufflin finally stopped, tossing the whip aside and leaned down to the boy's shivering form. "Every day you have humiliated me, you have mocked me, but you were too stupid to even realize what you were doing was hurtful. You have learned what it looks like, what it feels like to be humiliated." Fanboy did not answer and simply continued to moan in pain.
Mr. Mufflin yanked the boy to a sitting position and situated the shackles over his wrists and ankles, not even bothering to put Fanboy's clothes back on him. "The blood will only seep through," Hank explained, tossing the costume into the darkness, along with Fanboy's shoes, gloves, and mask.
He fished around in the duffel bag and pulled out torn pieces of paper. He tossed them all to Fanboy. "Read them," he ordered. The child looked up at him in surprise. Why, that was it? He just wanted him to read letters? Fanboy was confused, but looked at the notes in confidence.
Said self-assurance began to diminish as he realized what the papers were about. Hate letters. They were all hate letters addressed to him. That were meant to be passed to him in class, but Mr. Mufflin had caught the people passing the notes, and therefore Fanboy had never read any of them. Now he wished that he never… Just hate notes. There were a couple from Francine, long letters they were, telling him how much people hated him, how annoying he was, how she wished she had never met him. There were some from Lupe and Yo. There were a lot from Kyle. There were even a few from Cheech and Chris, and even sweet Nancy.
Fanboy gently set the notes down after reading about two of them, and he gently pushed them towards Mr. Mufflin with his foot.
"No!" Mr. Mufflin yelled, picking up the scattered pieces of paper. "You read all of them! All of them!" He shoved the notes back into Fanboy's arms.
The young boy stared at the notes and decided the best thing to do would be to pretend to read them. After all, Mr. Mufflin could not read his thoughts.
"Oh, and don't even think about pretending to read them! I'm going to ask you everything about what your classmates said about you, so you better memorize them. And if you answer wrong, oh, you're going to find your pathetic costume." The teacher motioned a hand out to the darkness, the floor covered with broken glass. Somewhere, on the floor of glass shards were his clothes.
Fanboy felt more tears stream down his beaten face, stinging the wounds as he continued to read the notes. One after one after one… Mr. Mufflin watched the boy's reactions, loving it when he crumbled down in tears when an insult from the notes lashed out at him.
Finally, Fanboy finished the last one. "D-Done," he choked out, pushing the letters back to Mr. Mufflin, who grinned sadistically at the broken child. He picked up the notes and folded them carefully, and set him back in his bag.
"Alright it's question time!" Hank announced, clasping his hands together. "What did Suck-up say to you?"
Fanboy just stared at him blankly for a few seconds. "Y-Y-You mean K-Kyle?" the child's voice trembled. "I-I…" He stared at the ground. "H-He told me to go… to go…"
Mr. Mufflin waited. "To go…?"
Fanboy sniffed and looked away. "…told me to go and k-k-kill myself…." He muttered, not once meeting his teacher's eyes. He didn't want to know these things; he didn't want to know what his classmates hated about him most. He shouldn't even be worrying about things like that! Not when he was trapped, naked, and with cuts and bruises aligning his body!
"Good, now what did Nancy say?"
Oh, he couldn't do this. His heart clenched, and more tears spilled from his eyes. He had to stop crying! He had to be brave for Chum Chum! "S-She… she just said she didn't like me," Fanboy answered rather quickly, and bit his lip.
"EER! Incorrect! I think she said much more detailed things to you!" Mr. Mufflin declared, grinning. When Fanboy refused to answer, he ordered him to stand up once more. "Listen up. The most important thing in a classroom that a student has to abide by, are the rules. You had to follow the rules, and no harm would have come to you. You didn't follow my rules of the activity, and now you must pay the price." Fanboy shook with fear as the man advanced towards him and removed his shackles once more, and gave him a push into the darkness.
Fanboy gave a little yelp as the man pushed him from behind, and he flailed his arms to support himself as he fell forward to the ground. The first thing the child felt after falling were broken shards of glass digging into his body. He let out a screech, and Mr. Mufflin said, "Whoops! I forgot the duct tape." He marched over to the withering boy, the glass crunching under his shoes, and slapped on three layers of the tape onto Fanboy's mouth, and the only sounds coming from the boy now were barely audible whimpers and moans of pain.
Mr. Mufflin gripped the boy's arm and yanked him up, Fanboy letting out muffled screeches as the shards stuck to him. The teacher gave his student a gentle push into the darkness and Fanboy began to wander through the gloom, every step feeling like he was walking on knives. He stopped for a moment to try and brush the shards away, but they wouldn't budge, and Fanboy wondered if Mr. Mufflin had glued the glass to the cave's floor. They broke under his weight, and pieces stuck to his ankles. He began to feel light headed, and Fanboy wondered if he were going to pass out from shock or blood loss.
After a few minutes of unbearable pain, Fanboy finally managed to find his costume and shoes. …Wait, his SHOES…? "I can escape now!" he thought excitedly. Although he couldn't see, Fanboy slowly but surely managed to clothe himself, and put his shoes back on. The blood soaked through the fabric, but he didn't care. His feet were hurting unbearably in his shoes, and he could feel the blood leaking out of his body. Turning around, he saw the little sliver of light in the distance, which meant the exit of the cave.
But then…
"Purple Kid…" a voice whispered behind him. A hand gripped his shoulder, and once again, Fanboy froze in fear. "I see you've found your things. Congratulations." The child felt a sharp jab from behind. "Have you learned to follow MY rules?"
"Mmph…" Mr. Mufflin yanked the duct tape from Fanboy's mouth and gripped his chin, turning it to face him. "I-I understand!" Fanboy squeaked. "I-I do!"
"I don't believe so," Mr. Mufflin growled, "I don't believe you do." He leaned closer until the boy could feel his teacher's breath on his face. In the darkness, he could still make out a hazy outline of Mr. Mufflin. "I think this all needs to be hammered into you, or you'll never learn."
Fanboy gasped. "No! Mr. Mufflin, please! I'll be good! I'll be good! I promise!" He began to shake and cry as the thought of the man torturing him more entered his mind.
"Shut up!" Fanboy earned another slap to the face. "Will you speak in my class? Huh? WILL YOU?!" he yelled when the child did not answer right away.
"N-No! No! I won't!" Fanboy cried.
"Good!" Mr. Mufflin smirked. "Will you humiliate me in front of my students?" He tightened his grip on the boy's arms and moved so close to Fanboy's face that their noses were touching.
Fanboy shook his head, though it hurt to move at all. "N-No," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I-I'm sorry…" he was beginning to breathe abnormally heavy, his chest heaving as the pain worsened, and extreme paranoia overtook his mind.
"Good," Mr. Mufflin grinned, and asked, "Will you follow my rules; every single one of them?" Fanboy was beginning to hyperventilate. "…Y-YES! P-Please, I'll d-d-o… e-e-everything… y-you say!" he gasped. "J-J-Just…" he was starting to lose consciousness from fear. "P-Please… let… me go… h-h-home!" He eyes fluttered and his jaw went slack. Slowly, he slipped away and fainted in Mr. Mufflin's arms.
The teacher decided, finally, that that was enough, convinced that Fanboy had finally learned his lesson. He was confident that the child would be as good as gold in his class from now on. He gathered the young male up in his arms and carried him out of the Shunning Cave, squinting in the classroom's fluorescent lights. He picked up his duffel bag on the way out and undressed the boy once more, and began to tend to Fanboy's wounds, which cause the child to awaken.
He let out small whimpers and abrupt shrieks as the man poured rubbing alcohol over the bloody, multiple, thin scratches the whip, yardstick and the broken shards of glass had sliced into his flesh. He wrapped gauze around the deepest cuts, on his shoulder blades, thighs, and collarbone.
After Mr. Mufflin scrubbed all the blood from Fanboy's costume and shoes, he then leaned over the boy with a sinister stare on his hard-set face. "Listen to me, Purple Kid, and you listen to me good." Fanboy looked up at him through teary eyes. "I'm going to let you go." A wave of relief washed over the super-fan's mind. He wasn't going to die, and that's all that mattered to him. "This will remain undisclosed, understand? This is a secret tactic to modify your behavior. If you tell anybody about this, I will drag you back to the Shunning Cave, and I will exterminate you in the slowest doable method, along with the Talking Raccoon." Fanboy's eyes widened, clearly petrified.
"All you need to do is listen, keep quiet, and follow my rules, and no harm will come to you or your friend. Understand?"
"O-Okay Mr. Mufflin…. I-I'm sorry," Fanboy answered, averting his eyes from the dominating male. "I-I'll be good."
Mr. Mufflin was satisfied with Fanboy's answer.
To continue or not continue?
That is the question.