Spawn of the Devil

It happened all too quickly for most of us to comprehend. One minute Miss Press was extending her neck like a turtle and trying to get us to listen to a soundbite on the population of China, with the class obviously ignoring her and talking in our huddles about our plans for the weekend. I always kept one eye on the teacher, though, waiting for inspiration for a new practical joke.

I saw her retract her neck and curl up her fists, then in the next instant scream “Demons!”
She pulled a pewter cross from beneath her cardigan and held it to the front row.
“Filthy vermin! Go back to Hell where you belong!”

Mr Maynard practically sprinted from his classroom to see us all laughing. As he tried to calm her she cried, “Devil! Ringleader of the spirits!”
By this time only the bitches at the back were still pissing themselves as the rest of us looked in earnest at our weeping teacher.

But I kept one eye on Maynard, and I was sure I caught the glimpse of horns under his toupee.

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