Punch Line

i wrote this in about 15 minutes and half falling asleep hERE HAVE SOME ONEGLEBY

Words: 570

Warnings: none

He talks funny and sends you messages over your blog filled with all-caps words and exclamation points and emoticons he only now learned how to use and therefore treats them like a child would trying to wear out a new toy.

He monitors detention and teaches accounting, and every once in a while a student will ask a question that makes him respond in dreary voice, saying something about how we all end or whatever, and most of the class sits in silence for a while after that, trying to wrap their heads around an authority figure who so openly states that things can, in fact, be pointless.

And most of the time they are, which is why you laugh.

You don’t really think about it much but you realize that must be part of it, why you actually make half an effort in his class verses those in which you barely even show up.  It’s because he makes you laugh, and besides giving you food, that usually gets a person on your good side.

There’s more to it than that though, and deep down you realize this.  You just made a promise to yourself that you’d never, ever, acknowledge anything of the sort, because it’s confusing and frustrating and you’re pretty sure no one would ever feel like that about you anyway, and if they did, you’d strongly encourage them to get over it.  Not because you don’t want that.  But because you’re not sure you could handle it.  You don’t deserve it in the first place, so it’s for the best that you don’t even bother to learn.  You might hope a little more then.

Besides, that’d be a lot more work than you’re willing to put into something seemingly devoid of that thing that begins with the letter h.

So when these feelings bubble to the surface you simply let them out by screaming, disturbing the rest of your beaten down neighborhood and not really worrying about the consequences.  Even here people don’t bother with you.  You might not look as frightening outright as Spook, but the residents and in-and-out jailbirds that have watched you grow up can sense something’s just not wired too tight, and they leave you alone, even when you punch the side of a house yelling because some weird old teacher of yours made you laugh.


And again.

And again.

You punch the house for each smile he’s brought to your face, each time you actually consciously tried to get detention because he now monitors it (either for somehow failing or for the fact that you actually tried in the first place, you’re not sure), each time you did his fucking homework, all for the same reason your stomach lifts when you walk into his classroom.  Like the moth on your shirt somehow came alive and burrowed deep into your gut, squirming until your intestines were in knots.

You hate him, you hate this, and yet…

Someone asked you today what made you happy, and you had no answer.

Until he showed up again, telling you that it’s ok not to know what you want to do with your life.  Just follow what feels right and you’ll do fine.  Just act on your gut.

You waltz into his room after detention clears the next day and press him to his blackboard, crushing your lips to his before walking away without a word.

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    claps excitedly
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