The thing stoops as it lumbers through my door. The eyes blink, shades drawn over milky cue balls.
It grunts.
Trudging toward me, it allows both hands--if you could even call the gnarled, wicked mass of flesh at the end of its arms hands--to drag the floor. The knuckles scrape the carpet, shhhhhk, leaving an oily trail. Blood? Something else?
Me: choking on my heart. My hands sweat.
The mouth opens, revealing rows of teeth like broken chalk, only green. It lifts its body onto a desk, hand/claws on the bottom, clacking against wood with yellow nails.
It grumbles. Kind of sounds like "How's my kid doing?"
14 comments:
Awesome as usual. Even the last two lines alone would make a great and creepy story!
ROTFL! Ah, the life of a teacher. Love it!
Barry - Okay, only a couple of parents looked like that. Just for clarity's sake.
Elana - So true. ;)
LOL!
Parents hate going to PTC just as much as the teachers do. Lucky for them though, they don't have to waste a whold damn day.
Made me smile.
This one made me laugh. I don't know if that was what you intended but it did so anyway.
That was awesome! I love your work-inspired stories. :)
Natalie - ;)
Anon - Not that I hate it...but it does make a long day.
Brendan - Me too.
Jamie - Oh yeah. The laughs are good.
K.C. - Work has to be good for something.
ROFL! I hope you don't have too many parents like that.
I think he lives across the road from me. :D
Laura - none, really. The students on the other hand...
Cate - ;)
Shades drawn over milky cue balls - Fantastic.
I get the feeling this was directly inspired by something...
Bwahaha! Excellent!
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