Say Goodbye to English Class
Disclaimer: Sir Wallace belongs to me, the other insignificant beings belong to Tamora Pierce.
Author's Note: If by the end of this fic, you can't tell what class I hate, you aren't reading it closely enough. I'm sorry you have to read this, but I have to do something other than thinking about how I'm going to flunk English. Oh, and sorry about the lame-ass title.
Dedicated to my ff.n friends—Radella Cooper (or whatever you're calling yourself now), Rose of Kennan (ditto), Amethyst Wood (same goes for you), miss julep (and you, too), Snow*flake (I think your name has stayed pretty much the same over the months)—and my lovely, evil English teacher.
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Kel looked over her shoulder at her friends. "Are we gonna do this?" she asked Neal, Owen, Seaver, Faleron, and Merric. Cleon wasn't there because Kel recently got sick of his constant…self…, so she killed him. It was as simple as that.
"Of course. I wouldn't miss this for the world. It will be jolly!" replied Owen. He cracked his knuckles, and the group proceeded to head down the hall. The stopped when they reached a classroom with "Sir Wallace—English professor" etched into the door. Kel and her cronies could barely make out the "is an evil dickhead" lightly scratched below by a previous student.
Kel nodded at Faleron. He approached the door and cautiously knocked it. After a few slow seconds, the door creaked open. A burly knight stepped out. "Hello Faleron. Neal, Owen, Seaver, Merric, and Lady Keladry. How do you do? Do you need help with the essay on the themes in Memoirs of a Brave Knight?"
Seaver stepped forward. "No, I think we've got it figured out. However we wanted to tell you a couple things."
"Such as…?" said Sir Wallace.
"You're evil."
"Oh, really? Would you care to elaborate?"
"No."
"Besides, you're too hard. The older students' advanced classes are easier than yours, and they're supposed to be harder!" added Merric.
"And your class isn't jolly at all!" declared Owen.
"You load us up with so much work we can't do our homework from other classes or get any sleep," announced Neal.
"Our entire free day is ruined because of trying to create magnificent pieces of writing that you only trash when you grade them" complained Kel.
Sir Wallace frowned. "Is that all you have to say?"
"NO!" screamed all six.
The corrupt teacher raised his hand for silence. "You know, I could kick you all out of training for this."
Neal laughed and said, "Actually, you can't. We already talked to The Stum—er…Lord Wyldon—about this, and he agreed with us. Technically, you don't have your job anymore. Lord Wyldon talked to King Jon about it, and King Jon is exiling you to America. There, you get to meet people who hate English even more than us. They are relentless when it comes to torturing vile English professors like yourself. Have fun!"
Three bells later, Sir Wallace was fired and sent to America, where he met head English teacher torturer, Ruby Avalon. He had a lovely and joyful time there. Sarcasm, sarcasm. The End.
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Authors Note: So what if it's stupid? I don't care. I don't care if you don't understand what's going on. I don't care if there's bad grammar or stuff; I didn't proofread it. I don't care if it OOC. I don't care if the facts are wrong. I don't care if you hate it. Flame all you want, but include a tip on how to ace Freshman Honors English with Ms. Walls while you're at it.