Update time! There was no new characters this chapter, and the vandalism is going to be held off until next chapter, but I'm sure you'll like this one anyways.
Chapter Six
“Ah, Mr. Zeplinrochts, glad to see you, thought we could discuss a few absences.”
Ted sat across from Principal Deezer, once again.
“It’s a long story, Mr. Deezer, I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Well, we could ‘not’ talk about it,” he said, “but then I’d have to talk to your parents about this unfortunate coincidence. Now please tell me how you broke the record for most periods missed on a new student’s first day.”
“Fine,” Ted moped, “I got thrown into a locker, and was stuck there for two periods.”
“By who?”
Ted squirmed nervously in his seat, if Yo Lyngrio found out that somebody squealed on him, he was likely to go bananas.
But, Ted could not look into Mr. Deezer’s face and tell a lie, “Um…Yo…Lyngrio.”
“I should have known,” Mr. Deezer exploded, “that kid is nothing but rotten marshmallows!”
“Um, rotten marshmallows, sir?”
“Yes! Rotten marshmallows!”
Ted stared at the wacky principal, who then coughed, while blushing, and sorted some papers on his desk, “Yes, well. I believe you, Ted. I just need to know one more thing.”
“And what would that be sir?”
“Why on earth were you crying in the hall?”
“Another long story.”
Principal Deezer observed Ted and grumbled, “Well, in the short years I have left to live, I can’t be listening to too many long stories, now can I?”
He grinned and motioned Ted to run along. And ran along Ted did. He sprinted to Computer Applications with Mr. Suffix. At Room 501, where this class took place, Ted sweated nervously as he pried open the door. He looked around in the room. There were three or four rows with about six computers at each, and there was a kid at most of them. All of them stared at Ted. As did the teacher in front.
“Why, hello, Mr. Zeplinrochts,” he sneered, “I have heard a lot about you, mostly from our gossiping student body. It appears you are prone to accident only on your first day.”
“You could say that,” Ted muttered.
“Do not worry, Ted,” Mr. Suffix added, “your tardy has been excused by the principal. Now just take a seat at the only available computer.”
He pointed to an empty seat next to two familiar faces.
“Hey Ted,” said Drew Toad, “are you going to puke in this class too?”
“Shut up,” Ted whispered, “I’ve had a tough enough day as it is!”
“Tell me about it,” grumbled Kay Hold, who was sitting on the other side of Ted.
“It wasn’t my fault I was in your locker,” Ted explained once again.
“Ted,” Mr. Suffix shouted, “enough chatting! Turn on your computer and open up a blank database.”
Ted thought for a moment; sure he knew how to turn on a computer, but a database? He had never used one of those.
“Um...Mr. Suffix,” Ted called, “what’s a database?”
Mr. Suffix’s face turned purple as he screeched, “WHAT’S A DATABASE? YOU MIGHT AS WELL BE ASKING ‘WHAT COLOR IS THE SKY’ OR ‘WHAT’S MY NAME’.”
All the students in the room turned silent, but a few chuckles could be heard throughout the room. Drew was busting a gut, and the rest of the period went the same. Mr. Suffix yelled at Ted for his incompetence, and Drew continued to roar like a nimrod the entire time. Ted wished he could have one class where he wouldn’t look like a complete disaster. So, as the bell rang, and Ted was only one period away from the big old vandalism, he continued to get more and more nervous. He walked into study hall and asked the teacher where he should sit.
“Hey um…Mr...,” Ted said as he looked down at his schedule, “…Watoad, where should I sit?”
“Anywhere, my feathered friend,” he exclaimed jubilantly.
“Anywhere?”
“Correctamundo, for in this class, you do whatever you want, whenever you want,” Mr. Watoad screamed like a maniac.
“Yeah…okay,” Ted forced as he ran away in fright. This was one weird teacher.
As everybody finally filed in, the place went bananas! Every student was bouncing off walls, shouting, running, and doing whatever the DKVine they wanted to. But, Ted just sat, sleeping. For he needed energy for later, when he was expected to vandalize in desperate attempt to keep friends. He woke in an utter start, though as a kid had just landed on his face.
“AAHAHHHAHAHA,” he screeched as Ted recognized him as Max Vance, “LAMPS HAVE RIGHTS!!! WOOT!!!”
Ted stared at him in disbelief. He had about ten pixie sticks hanging from his mouth, and chocolate stains all around his mouth. But he was just a footnote compared to one very hyperactive Mr. Watoad. He was standing on the stage of the theatre on a unicycle and juggling three students who were all giggling. Ted racked his brain to even begin to catch a glimpse on how such a delightfully impulsive person could get hired.
“TOAST,” Mr. Watoad screamed as the bell rang and all of the kids rushed out, even though they were having the time of their lives.
Ted wasn’t thinking about that though. He was thinking (and shaking all over) about confronting the vandals in the football field. It was time. He walked through the back doors, and ran towards the field, and saw the threesome.
“Ahh, here’s the man we’ve been looking for,” Bud Wig yelled.
“R-right back at you,” Ted nervously chuckled.
“Yeah, but we’ve decided to call it off…”
“Oh,” Ted said, trying to sound dejected, but in his mind, having a little party.
“Yep, we’re calling it off,” Bud explained, “…UNTIL LATER TONIGHT!”
Bud did a little jig, and Ted about collapsed in confusion.
“You see, we don’t want to do the greatest vandalism of all time in broad daylight,” he said, “now that would just be pulling a Ted! We’re going to meet at 12:00 am tonight, so just sneak out.”
“Alright,” Ted replied, trudging off.
He was merely nine hours away from Moronfest 2006.