Principal Skinner goes to Winslow

"Tuck in that shirt! Pull up those pants, young man! This is a high school not a Rock and Roll concert! Young lady, is that a skirt or a belt? Either way it's five inches too short!"

Cities changed, schools changed, but Principal Seymour Skinner would always be Principal Seymour Skinner.

But now? Now he was teaching high school, and he was moving up in the world.

He chuckled to himself as he reached the solitude of his office. "Heh heh, moving up. High school."

The door opened some time later during second period, and a short, cheerful looking young man stuck his head in. "Hey, boss-man. You wanted to see me?"

Skinner checked his schedule. "No, not unless you're Mr. Gladly the world studies teacher."

"As a matter of fact," he said, strolling in, "I am Mr. Gladly the world studies teacher. But please, call me Mr. G."

Skinner gave him a once over. "Oh I'm sorry. I mistook you for a student."

Gladly gave an open, friendly laugh and sat down. "No worries. I'd rather look too young than too old."

Gladly was a short man with a boyish face, but Skinner was more referring to his state of dress. In jeans and a tee-shirt, the man wouldn't have stood out in a group of teenagers and he looked like he had started casual Friday four days early.

Skinner adjusted his tie and straightened the cuffs of his suit coat—old and worn, but well cared for—and decided not to press the issue. "Well, in any case, thank you for coming to see me during your free period. I know you'd rather use this time catching up on grading homework assignments and whatnot, but I'd like to get to know the teachers here at Winslow."

"Oh, no worries. I don't really assign homework, so it's no trouble at all."

Skinner stared at him. "You ... what?"

Gladly shrugged. "I always hated homework when I was a student here. It's mostly busy work anyway. Kids are a lot happier when they can leave school at school, you know what I mean, Mr. S?"

He gave Gladly an even stare. "Mr. Skinner, if you don't mind."

Gladly raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? You don't want the kids to think that you're going to skin them alive, do you?"

"I'm sure I could live with that. Moving on, I was going through Principal Blackwell's file on you ... by the way, you wouldn't have any idea what happened to her, would you? I can't seem to get a straight answer out of anyone."

Gladly shrugged. "I just figured that she wanted a day off. Then a week off. It's been about a month since she was last here."

Skinner narrowed his eyes. "So this school has been a month without a principal, and you teachers have just been ... running wild?"

Gladly shrugged. "Hey, we know what our jobs are."

"So you say. Anyway, her file on you seems to have some holes in it. There's no record of your teaching certificate at all."

"Oh, yeah, I never got one."

"You ... don't have a teaching certificate."

"Nope."

"Then how did you become a teacher?"

"Well, when I graduated I told Blackwell that I loved being here so much I wanted to stay forever, and she gave me this job. I've been here ever since."

"What? But ... why?"

He shrugged again. "Because I love it here. I love the kids, I love teaching, I love high school. They were the best years of my life, and those years have been going on for nearly a decade."

Skinner was finally able to identify the feeling that had been growing inside of him since the man had stepped foot in his office: disgust.

"May I see your ID?"

He chuckled. "What is this, a liquor store? Sure thing."

Skinner studied the man's driver's license. "Hmm. So you are in fact Mr. Jay Gladly, born 1988, and not a juvenile delinquent impersonating him."

"Thanks? Like I said, I have a young face."

"Well, I just wanted to make sure. Mr. Gladly, you're fired."

Gladly stared at him. "What? What? Why?"

Skinner spotted a flash of a crimson beard and a balding head pass by the window. "Hold that thought. Willie! Hey, Willie!"

Groundskeeper Willie stopped and turned around. "Aye Skinner? Can't yew see Ah'm busy? There's a sack o' used condoms in the parking lot and two feuding families of possums in the dumpster bin fer me to worry aboot. What do ye want?"

"I need you to take over teaching world studies until I can find a suitable replacement."

"What?" Willie said.

"What?" Gladly said.

"You don't need to know anything about the subject matter, you just need to keep the kids from killing each other."

Groundskeeper Willie slumped his shoulders and let out a sigh. "Alright. Ah'll do it, but Ah won't like it."

Gladly stared at Skinner, growing angry. "You ... you're replacing me with that, that janitor? Does he have a teaching degree?"

"No, but he hates school, hates kids, and should the need arise, he can wrestle wolves."

For the moment, confusion usurped his anger. "Does that happen often?"

Memories flashed through Skinner's mind. Unpleasant memories. Painful memories. He pushed himself up from his chair and walked over to the window. "More than you'd think, Mr. Gladly," he said, staring into the cold light of day. "More than you'd think."

WWW

A/n Here it is, everyone, the Simpsons/Worm crossover you never knew you wanted. Stay tuned for the next installment of the Skinner Goes to Winslow series, Willie versus Hookwolf!