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It’s funny, the middle aged man thought to himself. The little ripple of subdued giggling grew silent as he paused in the middle of his whiteboard diagram. Usually the delinquents seat themselves at the BACK of the class.
But this one was different. Or, at least, that’s what the boy clearly thought of himself. Bold defiance in the classroom was relatively rare, even among the hoodlums he’d taught over his thirteen years of teaching. But it certainly wasn’t new. Without a word, he capped his erasable marker and turned to face the class.
Another uneasy chuckle surfaced. All eyes were turned to the seat front and center, and in it, the only student James Egbert ever suspected of doing anything EVER. He couldn’t see his eyes through the thick sunglasses the boy was wearing, but the unnaturally straight posture and wide, Cheshire cat grin could only mean one thing.
That he was up to something? No. That he had already done something and was challenging Mr. Egbert to figure out what it was before it was too late.
He cleared his throat. “David?”
“Would you mind coming up and finishing this bell curve I’d started on, complete with the necessary points indicating how much each laptop was sold for? Be prepared to sure your work.”
The redhead shrugged sauntered up, taking the marker with a, “Sure.”
Thinking that this would surely keep the brat busy for a while, Mr. Egbert returned to his desk. He dropped a pencil on the seat of his chair and tried to pick it back up. Good, no super glue this time. He took the same pencil and ran it underneath the desk. No sticky gum traps. A tentative sniff at his coffee. The chance that Strider had slipped urine into his drink was slim to none.
He was just about to sigh with relief, when he heard the giggling again. His eyes flew to the board to see several crudely drawn, yet impressively detailed penises scrawled all over.
“Yes, that will be quite enough of that, David, thank you. Back to your desk,” Mr. Egbert said in a perfectly even tone.
“I thought you wanted me to show my work,” Dave replied, smirking as he began adding scruffy hairs to the testicles.
“Return to your seat, Mr. Strider.”
“Oooooh, you’re using my last name now? I can tell you fuckin’ mean business,” he chuckled, capping the pen and returning to his front row seat.
As if this were perfectly routine, Mr. Egbert strode up to the board, grabbed the eraser, and gave a few short, powerful strokes to the veiny shaft of the biggest penis of them all.
Nothing came up.
A first, Mr. Egbert tried using some elbow grease, but it didn’t take long for him to realize what was happening. He glanced back to see Dave holding up a permanent marker and grinning even wider than before. “With all due respect, try cuppin’ the balls, sir. That might help get it off.”
The entire class was struggling not to burst into laughter. When things got too out of hand, Mr. Egbert dished out homework like the class was a soup kitchen and all of the students were the dirty, smelly hobos.
“Hmm. Well.” Mr. Egbert put down his eraser calmly with an ease that could not be forced. “I hope you did not have anything planned this afternoon, Mr. Strider. I’ll see you at four o’ clock on the dot.” He began pulling down the projector screen so that the phallic graffiti wouldn’t have to be on display for the rest of the day.
“Whatever, Mr. E.”
Mr. Egbert began reading the homework for the night from his teacher text book, just before the bell rang. As the students left the room, the weary man sighed and sat behind his desk. He sipped his coffee, paused, and carefully spit it back into the cup.
How could a lanky teenager move so damn fast?