For today's #fridayflash piece, I used a writing prompt generated from this website here. The writing prompt is in bold.
The
Substitute
It
was hard to command any sense of gravitas with gravy stains on your shirt.
Of course, it could’ve been worse. I could’ve had onion breath or collard
greens sticking between my teeth. My hand fluttered before my mouth for a quick
breath check. Nope, still minty fresh. I smoothed down my tie. Perhaps the
students wouldn’t notice the stains. Why had I left my coat in the car?
“My name is Charles Fisher, and I’m
substituting for Dr. Roberts today.” My gravelly voice barely made a dent in
their conversation. Thumbs flew over cell phones. A girl laughed, high-pitched
and flirty. Thirty years ago, such a giggle would’ve thrilled me. Now it made
me feel old, sad.
Sweat pooled in my armpits. I
loosened the tie, which felt more like a noose with each passing second. A
spitball splattered against the dry-erase board. My fingers fumbled through Dr.
Roberts’ notes. Their chatter increased as they ignored me. I didn’t blame
them. Who respected a fifty-seven year old grad student? My mouth dried out
before I could even mentally count the number of students. With a sigh, I
slammed the notebook shut and sank upon the stool. My loafer rested upon the
stool’s rung.
“She said you were studying
Descartes’ philosophy.” I stood from the stool and wrote “Cogito ergo sum” on
the board. I might exist, but these students didn’t think I did.
“Does anyone know what this means?”
I waited. “It’s Latin.”
Nothing.
Another spitball flew and dotted the
“I” in “cogito.” If I wasn’t supposed to be teaching them, then I would’ve been
impressed.
“So . . .”
The volume crescendoed, so I
strolled to the desk, grabbed the trash can, and flung it against the wall. It
boomed and rattled delightfully with a metallic clang. The room silenced as
mouths dropped open.
“Does that trash can exist?” I
perched on the desk. Not a single student looked away from me, but none
answered.
“Does it?” Instead of yelling the
words, I spoke softly.
“Y-yes,” a girl answered.
“Prove it.” I crossed my arms,
almost not caring I had gravy on my shirt. After minutes of disrespect, I had
their attention now.
If you like flash fiction and want to try your hand at writing some, don't forget my blogfest coming up on May 21-23. Click here for details and to sign up.
10 comments:
Been there. Very evocative.
It's never like that on Glee. Great snap shot of a moment in this guys life. A satisfying end too. Nice detail with the precision spit: it anchors your scene.
That was awesome. I startled when he threw the trashcan. Great way to teach philosophy!
Looks about right. I enjoyed being in this guy's head. although when he was talking about stains at the beginning I was wondering if this would end with dead bodies in his trunk XD
I loved this! My only critique (because someone pointed this out to me years ago)....never start a story with "It". Otherwise, great characterization, voice was perfect, actions were organic...this was a fun flash.
Now why didn't I think of such a stunt back in my substitute teaching days? I was hooked from the gravy stains. Loved it!
It's so hard being a sub. I'm glad he got their attention.
Great piece. Have a great weekend.
It's cool how this obviously freaked out new teacher takes command by doing something totally unexpected. I like the tie as noose analogy.
great short piece and what a great way to get the students' attention!
Oh I like that! I was almost on the students' side until that display of bravado. Good for him!
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