(I had the funniest idea for another round of chapters. Here goes! Please keep your hands and arms inside the story at all times and remain seated until the computer has come to a complete stop.)

Mrs. Blake picked up the phone and dialed. "Hello? Yes, I'm calling in sick for today. You'll have to get someone else to get those kids to pass the fourth grade."

The secretary thought hard. Who could she convince to spend the day with those terrors? A light went on in her head and she called a certain someone...

Meanwhile, Spyro, Hunter, Elora, and Bianca sat in the classroom, facing the board. "Psst! Elora! We're getting a sub today, pass it on!" Spyro whispered. Elora leaned over and whispered it to Hunter, who whispered it to Bianca, who gasped and slapped him across the face. "No! I said 'We're getting a sub today, pass it on!'" he exclaimed.

"Oh."

Just then, the door opened. A guy walked in, wearing a dorky outfit, and talked in an annoying nasally voice. "Hi, class! I'm Mr. Gullible." He said, writing his name on the board. "Now, I want to do everything exactly like you normal teacher does, so let's begin class."

'This is too easy.' thought Spyro. "Mr. Gullible?"

"Yes pupil?"

"When you start the lesson, you're supposed to put on a chicken suit and run around screaming like an idiot."

"Is that what your regular teacher does?"

"Oh, yes" they all said, nodding. "Okey-doky then! Here I go!" Mr. Gullible put on a chicken suit. "YYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

He stopped running around. "Was that right?' he asked taking off the suit."

"Yes! You did it perfectly." said Elora. "Now look at the board." Mr. Gullible turned around. "Why? What's on the board?"

They started throwing pies at him. "Hey! You kids just threw pies at me!" said Mr. Gullible.

"No we didn't, you just imagined that we did." said Hunter. Mr. Gullible cocked his head. "Really? But why am I covered with gooey pastry matter?"

"That's how you always dress."

"Oh! In that case, I'm not angry at any of you!"

Mr. Gullible looked at the lesson plan. "Okay, Mrs. Blake said that today you're supposed to learn about the food chain." he said as he held up a chart of the food chain. "Okay, now you see the..."

"Mr. Gullible?" asked Bianca.

"Yes?"

"You're not doing it right. To teach us about the food chain, you're supposed to pretend you're a bunny, hopping away from predators."

"Really?"

"Yes. That's how Mrs. Blake does it!"

"Well, it that's how your regular teacher educates you, then I'd better do it that way too." He squatted down. "Look! I'm bunny! I am running from predators!" he shouted hopping around the room. "What do I do now?"

"Now you have to smear barbecue sauce all over yourself and jump into a pit of angry Dobermans." said Spyro. "Okie-dokie! Does anyone have any sauce?" Hunter reached into his desk and pulled out some A1. "Here you go!"

"Thank you student! Now, watch closely as I become zesty." He said, pouring it all over himself. Then he jumped into a pit of angry Dobermans that just happened to be in the classroom. "OW! OW! OWIE! AAA, THE SHARP TEETH! OH! YEOWCH! AAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

He climbed out of the pit, covered in scratches and bruises. "Now do you understand about the food chain?"

"Oh, yes sir, Mr. Gullible!" said Bianca. "I think we learned a lot!"

Mr. Gullible looked at the lesson plan. "Hmm, it say here that you have to learn the multiplication tables!" he said.

"Oh no. That's not what it says." said Elora. "It says that you have to teach us the multiplication tables while stuffing yourself in a rubber glove and shaving with whipped cream."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Well, okay then! Pay attention class, I'm only going to go through this once." said Mr. Gullible as he pulled out a rubber glove, shaving cream and a razor. "Now, two times two is four." he said, spraying whipped cream on his face. "Three times three is nine."

He started to stuff himself into the rubber glove while shaving. "Four times four is sixteen..."

(A few equations later.)

"...and ten times ten is one hundred." said Mr. Gullible. He was completely inside the rubber glove, which was stretched out much farther than it's physical limit, and he had little pieces of paper stuck to his face.

The lunch bell rang. "What happens now?" he asked.

"Um... you give us each $50 so we can go to Mr. Gattie's for lunch?"

"Okay! Here you go!" he said, handing them the money. They trampled him as they ran out of the room.

(That's all for now! I'll write some more later.)