Ultros the Great's School of Etiquette and Manners

by Gabriel Ice

The title explains it pretty well.

The Teacher begins his lesson.

"Pupils, students, disciples, listen up, and listen well. I, Ultros the Great, am your teacher. You will respect me. You will learn from me. You will, on your deathbeds, think of me as your most valued mentor. But first, we must learn each other's names. Question, young man?"

"Yes, sir. Why are you an octopus?" asks a sheepish boy.

"I am octopus royalty. Now, on to names. Start with the front row. One at a time, stand up and state your name."

Billy, Jimmy, Jack, Joey, Jeffrey, Bobby, Danny, Christopher, and Tommy do as they are told. The Teacher nods in approval.

"You have shown me respect. I like that. That'll make men of you boys. You want to be men, or do you want to be lunch?"

"Men, sir!" The class speaks in unison.

"Good. Men. Any questions before we begin?"

Billy raises his hand. "Why are you teaching us?"

"Speak when I call on you," says the Teacher. "Now, go ahead."

"Why are you, a royal octopus, teaching us?"

"It's, uh, part of my community service. Court mandated. No further questions, please."

"Sorry."

"No sorry's. Just respect me. I am your teacher and master now. I am Ultros the Great."

The Teacher pulls a screen down over the blackboard and turns on an overhead projector. The words Ultros the Great's School of Etiquette and Manners appear on the front screen.

"This, children, is the name of our course. Is anyone in the wrong class?"

No one answers.

"Good. Now, we get started. Open your textbooks to the first lesson."

Nine boys dig into nine desks, pull out nine textbooks, lift nine covers, and turn to page eight.

"Would somebody like to read the first lesson? Billy, you."

"Lesson one…" says Billy.

"Stand up and read it. Read it like you mean it."

Billy stands. "Lesson one: Every action done in company ought to be with some sign of respect to those that are present."

"Good," says the Teacher. "Do you know what that means?"

"No, sir."

"Yes, you do, Billy. It means you call me sir."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Sit down, Billy."

One of the other boys launches a paper airplane, which strikes the Teacher on the side of his head, painfully.

"Yeowch! Seafood shish kebab! Who threw that?"

No one answers.
"Detention for whoever threw that. That was not a sign of respect."

The room is still silent.

"In fact, if I don't find out who threw it, you all get detention. See how you like that!"

The children sit in silence for four seconds. After five seconds, however, eight of them point at Tommy.

"So it was Tommy, eh? This will be our last confrontation. I promise you. See me after school, you delicious morsel."

Tommy shivers.

"And read lesson two for us, Tommy."

"Lesson two…"

"Stand up, Tommy. Stand up and read us lesson two."

Tommy stands up. "Lesson two: When in company, put not your hand to any part of the body not usually discovered."

"What does that mean, Tommy?"

"I think, sir, it means not to pick your nose."

"That's right, Tommy. The rest of you, listen up. When you're out in the working world, being receptionists or painters or opera critics or what have you, if you pick your nose in front of your boss, you will be fired. I, Ultros the Great, know this for a fact. Onward. Jimmy, lesson three."

"Lesson three…"

"Stand up!" The Teacher, his patience strained, reaches out with a tentacle and thwacks Jimmy on the head. "Such is the price for your impudence!"

Jimmy stands. "Lesson three: Shew nothing to your friend that may affright him."

"Good, Jimmy. What does that mean?"

"I do not know, sir."

"It means whichever of you left the dead rat in my desk was using bad manners." The Teacher pulls something small, gray, and smelly out of his desk drawer and brings it to the front of the room. "Who did this?"

"Tommy!" say two of the students.

The Teacher slaps Tommy with two of his arms. "Insolent fool!"

"Sorry, sir."

"Jack, show Tommy some good manners and read lesson four."

Jack stands. "Lesson four…"
The Teacher hits Jack. "Did I tell you you could stand up?"

"No, sir."

"Now, stand up."

"Yes, sir. Lesson four: In the presence of others, sing not to yourself with a humming noise, nor drum with your fingers or feet."
"Good, Jack. What does that mean? It means this: Christopher, if you do not wish to be beaten severely, stop humming!"

Christopher, halfway through Maria's aria from Impressario's hit off-Broadway play, ceases to hum. To be safe, he ducks his head before the Teacher can harm him.

"You underestimate me, human!" The Teacher's arms are long enough to allow him to hit Christopher anyway.

"Joey, read lesson five."

"Permission to stand, sir?"

"Permission granted. Class, learn from Joey."

Joey stands, unharmed. "Lesson five: If you cough, sneeze, sigh, or yawn, do it not loud but privately; and speak not in your yawning, but put your handkerchief or hand before your face and turn aside."

"Good, Joey. What does it mean?"

Joey demonstrates. The Teacher is not amused.

"How dare you yawn in my classroom? Feel my wrath!" The Teacher smacks Joey with four different arms.

"Lesson six. Jeffrey?"

"Permission to stand, sir?"

"Permission granted, Jeffrey."

Jeffrey stands. "Lesson six: Sleep not when others speak, sit not when others stand, speak not when you should hold your peace, and walk not on when others stop."

"Good, Jeffrey."

"I'm not sleeping, sir."

"Speak when I ask you to speak, Jeffrey." The Teacher, eager for a change of pace, belts Jeffrey with a ruler instead of his arms.

"Bobby, lesson seven. You have permission to stand."

"Lesson seven: Put not off your clothes in the presence of others, nor go out of your chamber half dressed."

"Good, Bobby. What does that mean?"

"It means not to run around naked like that half-Esper lady, Terra Branford."

This remark displeases the Teacher greatly.

"Do not mention the name of my mortal enemy in my classroom! Do you understand?" The Teacher stomps to the back of the room, lifts four empty desks with two arms each, and smashes them together in pairs. He then throws the remains at the window without first bothering to open it.

"Property damage in the name of education is acceptable, kids. Remember that. And don't speak the names of my enemies!"

"Like King Edgar Figaro?" Tommy ventures, unwisely.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" The Teacher stretches two of his arms, grasps Tommy, yanks him out of his seat, and pulls him to his mouth. "You need to learn some manners, Tommy. And now I shall teach you… table manners!"

"Like when you broke those tables a minute ago?" Tommy is, if nothing else, brave.

"Shut up!" The Teacher swallows Tommy in a single gulp.

"Now," says the Teacher, "are the rest of you here to learn or to get yourselves in trouble?"

"We're here to learn," says Danny.

"Then read lesson eight, Danny, and stand up while you do so."

"Lesson eight: At play and at fire it is good manners to give place to the last comer, and affect not to speak louder than ordinary."

"And what does that mean?"
"I don't know, sir."

"You idiots! Everywhere, idiots!" The Teacher rips an apple off the top of his desk and lobs it at Danny. "If you don't even know what that means, you need to go back to elementary school. Idiots, all of you!"

"With all due respect, sir," said Bobby, "what does it mean?"

"What does it mean? How the heck should I know? It's gibberish! And speak when you're spoken to!"

"Yes, sir."

"Now, Tommy, lesson nine."

No one says anything.

"Tommy, lesson nine!"

Danny raises his hand.

"Danny, I am calling on Tommy."

Danny's hand stays raised.

"All right, Danny, but this had better be good."

"With all due respect, sir," says Danny, "you ate Tommy, so he cannot answer."

"Shut up, Danny, or you're next!" The Teacher flings another apple. "Christopher, lesson nine. Stand up."

"Lesson nine: Spit not in the fire, nor stoop low before it. Neither put your hands into the flames to warm them, nor set your feet upon the fire, especially if there be meat before it."

"Good, Christopher. Now tell us what it means."

"It means not to play with fire, or you'll get burned."

"Right. Don't play with fire, or someone will eat you. Poor Mommy, made into soup." The Teacher's voice cracks, and he almost tears up. "But enough. Billy, read lesson ten."

"Lesson ten: When you sit down, keep your feet firm and even, without putting one on the other or crossing them."

"Good, kids. If you can't do that, then you are really pathetic idiots. I, Ultros the Great, have no problem with that rule, and I have many time the arms you human fools have. Remember this!"

The students slink in their chairs slightly, none daring to answer.

"Remember it. Now, Jimmy, lesson eleven."
"Lesson eleven…"

"Did I give you permission to stand?"

"Yes, sir, you did."

"I, Ultros the Great, do not tolerate lying in my classroom. Liars are to be punished most severely."

"I am sorry, sir."

"Sir Ultros to you, bub."

"I am sorry, Sir Ultros."

"You'll be sorrier when you see me in detention."

"Yes, sir."

"Sir Ultros!"

"Yes, Sir Ultros."

"Better. Now stand."

"Lesson eleven: Be not hasty to believe flying reports to the disparagement of any."

"Good, Jimmy. What does that mean?"

Another paper airplane strikes the Teacher.

"There, a flying report!" someone shouts. The Teacher's face turns from purple to red.

"Who threw that? Tell me, tell me, tell me! Tell me, or I will have your heads!"

"Not I," says Billy.

"Not I," says Jimmy.

"Not I," says Joey.

"Not I," says Jack, with his fingers crossed behind his back.

"Not I," says Jeffrey.

"Not I," says Bobby.

"Not I," says Danny.

"Not I," says Christopher.

"At least one of you is lying. Who is it?"

"We don't know," says Billy.

"You are all fools to think I, Ultros the Great, would not know who threw the airplane." The Teacher's eyes dart from side to side. "But, to be fair, I must punish all of you."

The Teacher pushes a button on the P.A. box near the door. "Headmaster Chupon? I need you right away. Some kids have been misbehaving."

Eight young faces go pale.

"Now you're all gonna get it, you little brats. You should have obeyed me. You should have played by the rules. But no. Everyone wants to pick on the octopus. Everyone wants a piece of me. You could have become my buddies. My pals. You could have called me Uncle Ulty. But now, you will call me your worst nightmare!"

The Teacher stretches his arms until he appears to be about four times his actual size. He then lets out a hiss. The children cringe upon smelling breath from the same mouth whose teeth are so incredibly yellow.

"Just wait, kids. Headmaster Chupon will teach you a lesson you'll never forget!"

The children recoil in horror again.

"Will he eat us?" asks Bobby.

"Eat you? When he's done with you, you'll wish he had eaten you."

Danny begins to cry.

"There is no crying in school, Danny." The Teacher flings another apple. "And look at me when I'm talking to you. No fair ducking."

Danny faces the Teacher and, for reasons possibly attributable to a less than ideal level of sanity, sticks out his tongue.

"Now you've done it!" The Teacher smashes a desk with one of his front arms. "You've gone and gotten me angry! How am I supposed to teach manners to a bunch of brats when I'm angry?"

"But you were angry before," says Danny.

"Yes, but… but…" The Teacher spits ink from his mouth. "But this time, I mean it."

Just then, something somewhat resembling both a marshmallow and a giant pink raisin steps through the classroom door.

"Chupon, buddy, help me out here, will ya?" The Teacher smiles dangerously. "Kids, meet Headmaster Chupon. He doesn't say much, but he's quite formidable."

Chupon blinks twice.

"And now… your doom!" The Teacher cackles madly as Headmaster Chupon rears back, takes a deep breath and… sneezes.

"Eww, gross," says Danny, covered in something he would prefer not to have described.

"That's what you get, you little brats. Instead of being bourgeois bohemian socialites, filled to the brim with manners, pert as schoolboys well can be, you get to be savages covered in gunk, and you're going to catch Headmaster Chupon's cold! Mwa ha ha!"

"Eww," says Danny again.

"Never mess with octopus royalty, kids."