Tom Foolery. II



                                 Tom Foolery. II art stories
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Part 2!

Tom Foolery. II

The boys' plan was simple - sneak into Miss Truckle's classroom, release the stink-bombs, and run as far away as possible. Tom had previously mapped out their escape route to the football pitches and had made sure that none of the security cameras would pick them up anywhere near the scene of the crime. Because of past offences, there was a fairly good chance that they would be pulled in for questioning by

their head of year, Mr Perkin, in which case they would swear blind that they were innocent. If worst came to worst, Paul would affirm their alibi of playing football throughout the whole of the break. Paul was one of those cowardly types that would never do anything wrong themselves, but could not help but be involved. Ordinarily, Kyle and Tom would avoid including him in their schemes, in case he

betrayed them. Kyle had knowledgeably pointed out that Al Capone had done so well because of the corruption of the Chicagoan police, and Paul might be as easily seduced. Tom required a further explanation into the allegory, and so Kyle patiently explained that Al Capone represented the teachers who inflicted all sorts of crimes on the students (and earnt money from it!) and Paul might

represent the police who betrayed the people (the students) for personal gain. Kyle wondered why this was not patently obvious. But in this particular case, Paul was not the Chicagoan Police department because Paul did not just dislike Miss Truckle, he despised her. ***

Paul had attended the school's primary and had therefore been there longer than nearly anyone else in his year. Although not taught by all the teachers, he knew each of them, and before he graduated to the secondary school, they all knew him. For the most part, he was well behaved (for he never broke the rules personally) and was therefore well-liked, but on one unfortunate occasion, he had

run straight into Miss Truckle. He was in Year Four at the time, and like most children aged eight, had no spatial awareness. Rounding a corner at speed, he had crashed into the art teacher. She was wearing unreasonably heeled shoes and careered backwards, tripped over a bag that was carelessly dumped in the corridor, and went crashing to the floor. Automatically, she

had thrown out her arms to protect herself, but she landed at such an angle that she twisted her wrist. For the weeks that followed, she kept her arm in a sling and flinched at any sudden movement. When anyone was around to listen, she would complain loudly that she could not paint, nor do anything else, and then sigh and pretend to look into the middle-distance.

One of the more cynical mathematics teachers made the mistake of pointing out to Miss Truckle that she had sprained her left wrist and she was, in fact, right handed and therefore not actually that inhibited. The insightful comment was not taken well. But it was poor Paul who had to endure the brunt of Miss Truckle's wrath. As she was a recently qualified teacher

and was still new to the school, she could not inflict any great revenge, but she did not forget Paul either. After the incident, he was made to write her an apology, and he (like everyone else) thought the matter settled. However, upon arriving at the secondary school, she set upon him. He was either ignored in class or yelled at, his homework was consistently harshly marked, and if she spotted him doing anything

that she had not expressly deemed acceptable, she would shriek that he was being insubordinate. Any artistic way to punish Paul was used with open mirth. Eventually, the boy grew tired of his teacher, and then he grew angry. It was high time Miss Truckle had a taste of her own medicine. ***

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