Here I am, standing in the hallways in Saint Benz Private School,hopelessly getting yelled at by Mr. Lyndall, our school Headmaster, for achieving the highest level prank Cal and I have ever pulled throughout our High School careers. We completely destroyed Mr. Sinor, who is now standing in front of us completely covered in slime.
Earlier that week
“Cal! Cal! Cal! Come here quick?!” as I peered around the corner making sure the coast is clear.
“Yo, what’s up?” He asked as he slid into the corner next to where I was standing.
“I just had the best idea for a prank on Mr. Sinor,” turning to look at him, crouching to gaze around the corner. “Imagine him opening his lab door and a bucket of goo landing on his head, but this time the goo can have some sort of stench tied in with it. You get what I’m saying?”
“Ha, I can just see a bunch of green slime just dripping off of his patch of fake hair!” he says trying not to laugh at the image in his head. “Oh, can we also add some of them spider fireworks of yours? Cause that oldie is going down!”
“Let’s try not to get expelled.”
“It’s our senior year.” “What could they really do to us? I mean really?”
“That’s true man.” meet me at my place after school so we can construct this gooey mess!”
“Sure bud,” Cal says with no fear in his voice.
“VOGOR TURN THAT MUSIC OFF! THAT AWFUL MUSIC SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO BE CIRCUITED IN TODAYS SOCIETY!”
“ITS JUST JACK PARROW MA!” knock… “I will get it!” shutting off my music and rushing to the door.
“What’s good man!” Cal says as he walks through the door.
“It’s all good bud! Ha, are you ready to do this?” as the door slams shut behind me.
“Ha?” he turns to look at me in an extremely confused look. “Oh yeah! That,” as he turns to expose an evil grin. (You know, the one that shows what he had just eaten)
It all seems like a witches brewing chamber, with the bunsen burner on full blasé underneath the cauldron, the mixture of weird materials made things even worse.
Here is what went in:
· Egg- goose if possible
· Corn starch
I am so glad we did this outside, the mixture ended up being repulsive, and when i say repulsive i mean extremely disgusting. It was like having a rotten egg boiled with a corroded piece of pork. It was enough to make even the strongest of stomachs churn to the smell.
“Alright, alright. I think we are done,” Cal whispers as if to try prevent the scent entering his mouth and tingling his taste buds.
The next day
The walk to school was terrible as we were trying not to break the Zippo bag seal, we didn’t even eat before we left. I feel horrible yet excited for this gutful prank. I can just see Mr. Sinor’s face as he opens the door to this plastic bag, full of a disgusting smell, hitting him square in the abdomen.
“You know the saying?” I say as I place the Zippo bag into a brown paper bag.
“Which one?” Cal asks in confusion.
“The one about revenge,” I proclaim. “Revenge is best served cold, but instead of the word cold. We should replace it with something like, um…”
“Revenge is best served with a can of Febreze,” he stated with a crackle in his voice.
“Ha Ha, that works for me,” I say trying not to laugh and or squeeze the bag and break the seal.
“Okay, so first things first, we have to set this up without Mr. Sinor and anyone else seeing us,” Cal whispers.
Our sneaky and rather hilarious spy acts could have been seen from the end of the hallway, yet we still managed to get away with it. We got our lead line set up and it was all a go, until the moment when Mr. Lyndall walked passed us on our way from the crime scene. I closed my eyes and hoped that he didn’t have a meeting with Mr. Sinor planned for this morning.
I turn around to look, and he was walking straight into the path of fire, my stomach sank and I am sure that if you took a CAT scan of my body at this moment you would be able to see my heart in my throat.
“Mr. Lyndall!” Cal shouts, “Mr. Lyndall! I have a question for you!”
Mr. Lyndall turns away from the door handle and starts walking our way. My pulse went from high back down to low and I’m sure I looked like the ghost of Christmas past at that moment.
“You okay Son? Vogor? Are you okay?” Mr. Lyndall asks worryingly.
“Wha. Yes Sir, I am fine, I just remembered that I had left my Math Workbook at home,” I say as the colour begins to return to my face.
“Ah, now tha…” he stops due to a horrid scream by none other than Mr. Sinor. He had just walked into his classroom and the bag had whacked him right on the back of the head. I could smell the stench from where I was stood at the other end of the hallway. Once I regained consciousness,all I could remember were the horrified screams and over powering stench. Mr.Lyndall was covered in projectile vomit and shouting at Cal.
“Who did that Cal?!” he shouts.
“I… I… I don’t know Sir,” Cal whispers. He had lost all confidence in the day. His voice was shaking like a pressure jack. I’m sure that if you could have looked him straight in the eyes and said boo, that he would have fainted.
“Oh, look. Maybe Mr. Patrick can help me out. He seems to have answered it already if you take a look at me!” He shouts as he turns from Cal and then to me.
So here I stand, Mr. Lyndall in front of me, Cal to my right. There are a “hundred and one excuses” flowing through my head and the one that came out was.
“Well Sir it was…