Post by RAM on May 10, 2024 20:26:45 GMT
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October 14, 2019 -- PM
Twenty-five minutes into the detention hour...
R.A. Marshall and Rydia Palmer were waiting patiently for Bobby Figgins' response as to how he ended up in D-hall. As the former chewed on a pack of Ice Breakers gum, the latter twiddled her fingers on her computer terminal. At that moment, the senior jock cleared his throat and spoke up.
"I stuck a condom on Mr. Blackwell's classroom doorknob."
Both Marshall and Palmer chuckled.
"The biology teacher?!"
"Yup. Put some Krazy Glue on there for good measure. Took the bastard a while to get the thing off."
Rydia sighed as Robert kept on cackling with glee.
"Why would you do something like that...?!"
"Heard from the grapevine that he was allegedly banging a cheerleader. You know how rumors get spread around this joint, right?!"
Rydia mustered a facepalm as Robert's laughter became hysterical.
"It ain't really nice to start rumors like that. They could cost someone their job and-or get them thrown in prison..."
Figgins turned his attention toward his newfound sophomore rival.
"Speakin' of, vermin...what kinds of not-so-nice things did you do to wind up in here?!"
"Just bein' a general pain-in-the-ass."
Bobby smirked from ear to ear.
"Now what would your family think about that...?!"
At that moment, the vibes in the computer lab started to turn dark. Marshall appeared to be peeved at the condescending remark from the arrogant jock in the letterman's jacket.
"...my family...?!"
Robert's face started turning red as Rydia cautiously stood up.
"...WHAT family...?!"
The sophomore's eyes focused squarely on the football player, who looked as if he was ready to blow like a volcano.
"...what in the FUCK do you know about MY! FUCKING!! FAMILY!!!"
Rydia tried to reason with Robert.
"Hey...it's okay. If you don't want to talk about it, it's alright."
But Figgins smiled and offered one final shot.
"Pffft, there's nothing to talk about. He's just acting out a delusion in his mind..."
That, in the young Marshall's mind, was the final straw. He quickly shot up out of his chair and darted towards Figgins. The jock was too late to react as he found himself face-first on the carpet, with Robert placing his right knee on the carotid artery on the neck -- a technique commonly used by cops to subdue criminals before it was banned in a large majority of jurisdictions.
"Ugghh...ugggghhh...I can't breathe!!"
As Figgins flailed his arms, Robert spoke in a very demonic tone.
"Now you LISTEN to me, fuckwad...my mother got raided by the Feds when I was really little. I saw it all happen...the rush, the screams, the flash from the stun grenades, the guns...EVERYTHING! I was sent to live with my uncle and aunt, and...!"
Marshall's voice quivered as he continued to speak, his knee firmly on Figgins' neck.
"Imagine what it FEELS like livin' in my uncle's house after takin' my uncle's last Reese's peanut butter cups! Imagine what it FEELS like after takin' a Pepsi from the fridge without his say-so! THAT!1 IS WHAT!! YOU GET!! IN MY UNCLE'S HOUSE!!!"
Robert got off of Figgins' neck and allowed him to dust himself off. He then stood on top of the lab's front desk and ripped his shirt off, revealing several bruises and scars that were the size of golf balls. He screamed at the top of his lungs, doing a very poignant impression of his abusive uncle as he described everything he had seen in his life.
"AND YOU CALL YOURSELF A GOOD WIFE -- YOU'RE A GODDAMN SLUT!! WHERE'S MY FUCKIN' BEER!!! I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO GET ME SOME FUCKIN' BEER, BITCH! I BETTER HAVE SOME BEER IN THE COOLER WHEN I GET BACK!!"
Pause. Rydia was horrifed by what she was witnessing.
"AND AS FOR YOU, ROBERT ALLEN MARSHALL....YOU THINK VIDEO GAMES ARE GONNA MAKE YOU FAMOUS!?! NAHHH...THEY MAKE YOU STUPID, RETARDED, LAZY!!! MAKE YOU INTO A BUM INSTEAD OF A REAL MAN!!!"
Marshall stepped down from the desk and slumped onto the floor, clearly in a state of emotional distress.
"...that's why I don't give a FUCK about your trophies or your free ride to Notre Dame..."
Another pause. Robert was shaking from head to toe, traumatized by his past.
"...I never had a fuckin' REAL family in my fuckin' life..."
Rydia was crying herself. She, too, had come from a broken family -- her father contracted a rare form of cancer and passed away in 2017. Her mother worked in a high-paying job as an IT specialist, but found it difficult to accept that she was a widow. So the young freshman did all she could to help out, but it had been quite the struggle.
Bobby Figgins didn't give a shit. He stood up, grabbed his backpack, and stormed out of the lab.
"Whatever. I'm out."
"Don't you do it, Figgins! If Connery sees you--!!"
Rydia protested, but to no avail. She did hear Mr. Connery screaming in the background as he watched the quarterback make his quick escape.
"MR. FIGGINS, YOU JUST BOUGHT YOURSELF ANOTHER ONE!!"
The vice-principal darted into the lab, looking all flustered. He peered at his iPhone for a moment before delivering an announcement.
"Tell you what, the custodial folks are gonna be coming in and doing a deep clean of the lab. So we're gonna end this shindig a little early -- just don't forget to save your work. You might learn from it..."
Rydia mumbled "thank God" under her breath. Mr. Connery gazed around the room, trying to figure out what had just happened. He then spotted Robert on the floor, shirtless and sobbing.
"Mr. Marshall, what in God's holy name...?!"
The longtime educator knelt down next to him as the freshman computer geek handed the shirt back to Marshall. Mr. Connery shook his head upon spotting the bruises and abrasions the sophomore had suffered.
"I know you think I'm just some tough, authoritative guy that always watches you like a hawk, but...I honestly think it's time that you saw a counselor."
At that point, Mr. Connery's tone changed. He didn't sound like a disciplinarian, but rather like a well-meaning father figure.
"I'm not saying this as a vice-principal or a former teacher. I'm saying this as a man with kids and grandkids of my own. The fact is, and I did some checking...your academic record has been nothing short of exemplary. Yet clearly, you've got issues going on that go well beyond the scope of this institution."
Rydia protested, citing her own struggles with fitting in given her status in the school.
"Mr. Connery, with all due respect...what good is a counselor gonna do for him? He or she will just talk to him in Javascript -- spiritually, of course. The school counselor didn't do me wonders -- why would you expect anything different for Robert? Ever since I moved here last June, I've been having a hard time trying to blend in because of the work I love to do."
She paused and cleared her throat.
"He doesn't need a professional like that. He needs a friend -- a God's honest friend that can bring out the best in him."
Mr. Connery nodded his head. Rydia tried to place a gentle hand on Robert's shoulder, but he flinched. Yet deep in her heart, she wanted to let her calm and soft-spoken demeanor shine through.
"...and I want to be his friend..."
To be continued in "Solace"...
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October 14, 2019 -- PM
Twenty-five minutes into the detention hour...
R.A. Marshall and Rydia Palmer were waiting patiently for Bobby Figgins' response as to how he ended up in D-hall. As the former chewed on a pack of Ice Breakers gum, the latter twiddled her fingers on her computer terminal. At that moment, the senior jock cleared his throat and spoke up.
"I stuck a condom on Mr. Blackwell's classroom doorknob."
Both Marshall and Palmer chuckled.
"The biology teacher?!"
"Yup. Put some Krazy Glue on there for good measure. Took the bastard a while to get the thing off."
Rydia sighed as Robert kept on cackling with glee.
"Why would you do something like that...?!"
"Heard from the grapevine that he was allegedly banging a cheerleader. You know how rumors get spread around this joint, right?!"
Rydia mustered a facepalm as Robert's laughter became hysterical.
"It ain't really nice to start rumors like that. They could cost someone their job and-or get them thrown in prison..."
Figgins turned his attention toward his newfound sophomore rival.
"Speakin' of, vermin...what kinds of not-so-nice things did you do to wind up in here?!"
"Just bein' a general pain-in-the-ass."
Bobby smirked from ear to ear.
"Now what would your family think about that...?!"
At that moment, the vibes in the computer lab started to turn dark. Marshall appeared to be peeved at the condescending remark from the arrogant jock in the letterman's jacket.
"...my family...?!"
Robert's face started turning red as Rydia cautiously stood up.
"...WHAT family...?!"
The sophomore's eyes focused squarely on the football player, who looked as if he was ready to blow like a volcano.
"...what in the FUCK do you know about MY! FUCKING!! FAMILY!!!"
Rydia tried to reason with Robert.
"Hey...it's okay. If you don't want to talk about it, it's alright."
But Figgins smiled and offered one final shot.
"Pffft, there's nothing to talk about. He's just acting out a delusion in his mind..."
That, in the young Marshall's mind, was the final straw. He quickly shot up out of his chair and darted towards Figgins. The jock was too late to react as he found himself face-first on the carpet, with Robert placing his right knee on the carotid artery on the neck -- a technique commonly used by cops to subdue criminals before it was banned in a large majority of jurisdictions.
"Ugghh...ugggghhh...I can't breathe!!"
As Figgins flailed his arms, Robert spoke in a very demonic tone.
"Now you LISTEN to me, fuckwad...my mother got raided by the Feds when I was really little. I saw it all happen...the rush, the screams, the flash from the stun grenades, the guns...EVERYTHING! I was sent to live with my uncle and aunt, and...!"
Marshall's voice quivered as he continued to speak, his knee firmly on Figgins' neck.
"Imagine what it FEELS like livin' in my uncle's house after takin' my uncle's last Reese's peanut butter cups! Imagine what it FEELS like after takin' a Pepsi from the fridge without his say-so! THAT!1 IS WHAT!! YOU GET!! IN MY UNCLE'S HOUSE!!!"
Robert got off of Figgins' neck and allowed him to dust himself off. He then stood on top of the lab's front desk and ripped his shirt off, revealing several bruises and scars that were the size of golf balls. He screamed at the top of his lungs, doing a very poignant impression of his abusive uncle as he described everything he had seen in his life.
"AND YOU CALL YOURSELF A GOOD WIFE -- YOU'RE A GODDAMN SLUT!! WHERE'S MY FUCKIN' BEER!!! I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO GET ME SOME FUCKIN' BEER, BITCH! I BETTER HAVE SOME BEER IN THE COOLER WHEN I GET BACK!!"
Pause. Rydia was horrifed by what she was witnessing.
"AND AS FOR YOU, ROBERT ALLEN MARSHALL....YOU THINK VIDEO GAMES ARE GONNA MAKE YOU FAMOUS!?! NAHHH...THEY MAKE YOU STUPID, RETARDED, LAZY!!! MAKE YOU INTO A BUM INSTEAD OF A REAL MAN!!!"
Marshall stepped down from the desk and slumped onto the floor, clearly in a state of emotional distress.
"...that's why I don't give a FUCK about your trophies or your free ride to Notre Dame..."
Another pause. Robert was shaking from head to toe, traumatized by his past.
"...I never had a fuckin' REAL family in my fuckin' life..."
Rydia was crying herself. She, too, had come from a broken family -- her father contracted a rare form of cancer and passed away in 2017. Her mother worked in a high-paying job as an IT specialist, but found it difficult to accept that she was a widow. So the young freshman did all she could to help out, but it had been quite the struggle.
Bobby Figgins didn't give a shit. He stood up, grabbed his backpack, and stormed out of the lab.
"Whatever. I'm out."
"Don't you do it, Figgins! If Connery sees you--!!"
Rydia protested, but to no avail. She did hear Mr. Connery screaming in the background as he watched the quarterback make his quick escape.
"MR. FIGGINS, YOU JUST BOUGHT YOURSELF ANOTHER ONE!!"
The vice-principal darted into the lab, looking all flustered. He peered at his iPhone for a moment before delivering an announcement.
"Tell you what, the custodial folks are gonna be coming in and doing a deep clean of the lab. So we're gonna end this shindig a little early -- just don't forget to save your work. You might learn from it..."
Rydia mumbled "thank God" under her breath. Mr. Connery gazed around the room, trying to figure out what had just happened. He then spotted Robert on the floor, shirtless and sobbing.
"Mr. Marshall, what in God's holy name...?!"
The longtime educator knelt down next to him as the freshman computer geek handed the shirt back to Marshall. Mr. Connery shook his head upon spotting the bruises and abrasions the sophomore had suffered.
"I know you think I'm just some tough, authoritative guy that always watches you like a hawk, but...I honestly think it's time that you saw a counselor."
At that point, Mr. Connery's tone changed. He didn't sound like a disciplinarian, but rather like a well-meaning father figure.
"I'm not saying this as a vice-principal or a former teacher. I'm saying this as a man with kids and grandkids of my own. The fact is, and I did some checking...your academic record has been nothing short of exemplary. Yet clearly, you've got issues going on that go well beyond the scope of this institution."
Rydia protested, citing her own struggles with fitting in given her status in the school.
"Mr. Connery, with all due respect...what good is a counselor gonna do for him? He or she will just talk to him in Javascript -- spiritually, of course. The school counselor didn't do me wonders -- why would you expect anything different for Robert? Ever since I moved here last June, I've been having a hard time trying to blend in because of the work I love to do."
She paused and cleared her throat.
"He doesn't need a professional like that. He needs a friend -- a God's honest friend that can bring out the best in him."
Mr. Connery nodded his head. Rydia tried to place a gentle hand on Robert's shoulder, but he flinched. Yet deep in her heart, she wanted to let her calm and soft-spoken demeanor shine through.
"...and I want to be his friend..."
To be continued in "Solace"...
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Well howdy there pardner.