Writing Class with Mr. Stitely

“How do you open a door creatively?” Mr. Stitely asked looking over the top of his glasses.

Hands shot up in the air. Well… gingerly moved upward, but the fact that any hand at all went up aside from Rhonda Fortson’s in the front row was surprising.

The phrase “I’m going to regret this” crossed his mind as he called on Jack.

“Well, first I’d put on a raccoon suit…”

Mr. Stitely sighed and slumped into his desk chair. “That’s not exactly what I meant.”

“Then I’d tell them just a minute, but instead of coming to the door I’d get up on the second story…”

“Jack, if you stop talking now, I’ll give you extra credit.”

“Then I’d quietly open the window and size up my target.”

Mr. Stitely could feel his classroom getting dumber as Jack continued.

“I’d grab a potted fern… possibly a calliandra if I’m feelin’ fancy. Then, screaming obscenities in Chinese, I’d leap out the window with a flying elbow drop, Macho Man style.”


“Mr. Stitely? Why are you banging your head on the desk?”

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