Hello, hello. It's us again; the ever-annoying table42!!! Righto, here's the second installment for 'Clemenceau High'. Thank you for reading! Enjoy, and don't forget to review. School pranks/ Annoying teacher behaviours/ Funny classroom moments etc. are especially welcome!
Chapter 2: The first lesson
The first lesson was an utter disaster. Frank knew it from the moment the teacher opened her overly smeared lipsticked mouth.
"Hello," she squeaked pathetically. "My name is Dorothy Tanya Primrose, and I will be your math teacher for the year." She tugged at her strained blouse, and gave a sickly smile that would make any cat puke. The triplets gagged, including Frans, causing the class and Miss Primrose to stare at them. Frans quickly straightened up and immediately looked very serious. He always did, anyway, so the expression came naturally.
"Sorry Miss Primrose. Triplet telepathy you know, one of us is not feeling very well," he explained. "And boy do I have no idea who he is…" Frank muttered beside his brother. The Primrose gave them the same much-too-sweet smile and toddled over to their table.
"Triplets, is that right? How do I tell you apart?" she asked. The Trottevilles could smell a strong overpowering odour radiating like ultrasound waves from the teacher. The 'scent' could not have been considered perfume at all. What could it be? Plant fertiliser? Nah, it had to be something much worse. Frank thought that he would have to teach his teacher the art of wearing perfume in the future.
Fred answered Miss Primrose. "There's not much difference between us, Ms Primrose, but you'll find out soon enough. We are totally different in a particular sense that is really too troublesome to explain. Besides, it would take up some of your class time! I'm sure you would not want that to happen. You see, the differences are so detailed that it takes at least…" before Fred could finish, the impatient teacher cut him off.
"Yes, I can see what you mean," she said, letting out an unsure laugh, or rather, a turkey's gobble (imagine that). The woman slowly waddled deliberately back to her table and Fred let out his breath in a rush. He was all out of breath and ready to faint. Frank started to snigger but was interrupted by another high-pitched squeak before he could enjoy a good laugh.
"Class, please take out your textbooks!" the teacher trumpeted a LEETLE too loudly. The whole class winced and grimaced, almost deafened by her screeching.
Frank thought he heard the classroom windows "-ping!" into little pieces. Fred suspected his eardrum had burst. Frans idly wondered if that pitch was 64 hertz, exactly.
The pupils quickly flipped through their books to the correct page, hoping the Primrose would shut it. Tough luck though, goosy gander ranted on for about five minutes before class actually began properly.
Miss Primrose took out a chipped piece of chalk from an unsightly pink and green polka dotted pencil case. Reaching up, she stretched her flabby hand out with all her might to the top of the board, and strained to write a few words in illegible scrawls.
Her short, crinkled blouse promptly sprung up at the action, exposing her unsightly bulgy lump of spare fat tyres: evidence of not exercising. The class gasped and tittered like girls.
Ms Primrose's face turned the colour of a sunburnt radish, and she hurriedly yanked her blouse down with her left hand. A loud, ripping sound was heard. The blouse, a size smaller than the teacher's natural bulk, had split at the seams!
Silly Ms Primrose had obviously thought squeezing into a smaller size might make her look slimmer. She was gravely wrong. A few of the daring boys exploded with laughter, and Fred saw his teacher turn a familiar shade of purple.
"I knew something like that would happen," the boy boasted.
"I wouldn't be surprised if her skirt splits next," Frans chimed in, grinning like a mad hatter. The teacher had not given him a good impression, and he was ready to join in his brothers' silly antics.
Frank could not answer because he was currently turning blue from the effort of trying not to laugh. Tears ran down his face as he trembled all over, pounding softly on the table with his fist.
When the boy finally composed himself, he spoke to his two brothers while thinking.
"I'm going to invent some pranks and use it on turnip brains here. Man, this is going to be fun!"
"What pranks?" his two triplet brothers asked in excitement.
"You'll see, you just see," Frank replied with a sudden air of dignified suspense and mystery around him. His face radiated smugness and the knowledge of impending doom. Frans wasn't sure if this was a cause of worry or not. Fred was worried for his position as the top prankster.
"Do a ventriloquist stunt Fred," Frans pleaded. Fred grinned and looked at the teacher.
Ms Primrose had finally given up and was writing on the lower half of the board rather huffily. It was no use wasting her efforts on these rude impudent students. Suddenly, a tremendous crash was heard. Everyone turned around to the back of the class where the noise came from, expecting to see a mess of some sort.
There was no mess. Nothing had fallen. The cupboard was still standing on four legs. The third formers turned to Fred, expecting to see a cheeky face, but the boy was just as confused.
"I'm not the guilty party!" Frederick mouthed with a confused expression. Somehow, the look on his face convinced his fellow classmates that he was speaking the truth.
Who could it have been? No one else in the class could perform ventriloquism. Unless Frank had 'hidden talents' yet to be discovered…
One by one, the student body turned to Frank. The boy bit his lip. Oops!
