Sorry - I've been dead for some solid life-related reasons. When I have time to breathe, I will update. I have a couple future (ex: chapter 46 or 47 versus 44) chapters (at least rough drafts) stored away, so things will continue - most likely in 4 weeks.
It felt good to write again, however briefly. (And something silly is always fun)
Have a nice day,
death-in-the-orchard
Ms. Fletcher was explaining basic geometry to her students, her eyes on the board as she wrote. But when she turned back to the class, mid-sentence, she paused. Apparently half of her class couldn't care less about geometry.
Nearly every female head was turned towards the row of cabinets that lined the right side of the room. There, they watched the janitor, his knees on the counter as he reached behind the cabinet and fished around for the smelly sandwich. He shifted his position so that he was now sitting on the counter, as he continued to peer behind it and evaluate his options. When this change in position took place, many a female student showed some evidence of disappointment, or even distress.
Pinching the bridge of her nose, more out of embarrassment than annoyance, Ms. Fletcher sighed and then surveyed her half-attentive class. "Who wants to have a pop quiz?" Anguish lined the children's brows… those that faced her at least. The others, the female majority, were unfazed. Something else had them hypnotized and unresponsive.
Ms. Fletcher raised her hand high, and lifted her voice by a few degrees. "Raise your hand if you do NOT, I repeat, do NOT want to have a pop quiz." The observant, mostly male, population eagerly tossed and flailed appendages in the air. The female majority was unresponsive. Bob the janitor had just returned to his prior, non-sitting position, bent over the cabinet as he worked.
Coughing, and speaking louder than ever, Ms. Fletcher gave them a third chance, "Ladies. I see that you've elected to have a pop quiz? …Ladies? …LADIES!" They jolted like released springs, blinking stupidly at the woman who had yelled at them, and then at one another blankly. Despite everything, some still made furtive glances at Bob's unobstructed assets.
"Alright," Ms. Fletcher threw her textbook open with a bang. The children quailed and mouthed for God and mercy, as she violently flipped the pages. "A quiz it is then."
The expected chorus of "NOOOOOOOO NO PLEASE THAT'S UNFAIR NOOO" and boohoo's raised the janitor's head, and he craned his neck to check on the room that had suddenly flooded with tormented souls. The children begged; the Ladies were no exception. So the benevolent Beatrice Fletcher looked up with crossed arms. "We'll take another vote. Raise your hand" the classroom was already a forest of arms, "if you DO want to take a quiz." She smirked at the children, chuckling at those who took several seconds to notice that their neighbors had quickly withdrawn their arms, and so, guessed that they should do the same.
Given that everyone was now offering her their undivided attention, Ms. Fletcher proceeded with the lesson. However, her job was made much easier when she no longer had to compete for half of the room's attention. Once Bob successfully retrieved the sandwich, he slipped silently away.
At least one girl managed to snap a picture. At the begging of her Freshman peers, it was soon distributed far beyond Ms. Fletcher's geometry class… and quickly ascended the school hierarchy.