When The Opportunity Presents Itself [FICTOID]

As the diversion to take her mind off murdering her fifth grade class, Teresa Wainwright wrote -- or rather was writing -- a lengthy treatise on paradoxes. 

She hated her students with an unholy passion:  Bratty, entitled, foul-mouthed little jerks hovering on the verge of burgeoning sexuality, clever enough to pervert discipline, smart enough to make their insults sting. too damn stupid to know when to keep their flapping yaps shut.  Each year a new class drove her closer and closer and closer to the edge. 

This year she discovered something to take her mind off their torments.  She stumbled across the Raven Paradox online.  Intrigued by it she looked up other paradoxes.  Shortly after that she began writing a lengthy treatise on paradoxes, using it to take her mind off mass homicide.  She bought an iPad she kept dedicated just to that task, writing in it at home when she took a break from grading papers or at school in those rare moments when students were taking tests.

Such as right now. 

She kept a lengthy list of paradoxes in her treatise with more being discovered each week.

“Miss Wainwright,” one pudgy little boy said. 

Suppressing a sigh of exasperation, Teresa said, “Yes?”

“I don't feel so good,” the boy said, standing perilously close to her desk.  “My stomach’s upset.”

Teresa couldn't have cared less but knew the school code required her to feign interest.  “Really?  What did you have to eat at lunch?”

“The deep-fried prunes,” the boy said.  They were a local specialty. 

“How many did you eat?” Teresa asked.

“Sixteen helpings.”

“Sixteen?!?!?”

“Yeah.  Nobody else wanted theirs because -- “

Why the rest of the class didn't want their deep-fried prunes is lost to history because at that moment the boy's stomach opted to void itself all over Theresa's iPad.

The rest of the class looked up from their test to enjoy the spectacle, laughing loudly as Theresa's iPad short circuited, taking her only copy of her treatise with it.  The boy turned and bowed grandly, causing Teresa to realize this was no accident but deliberately executed prank. 

Tears brimming in her eyes, Teresa jumped up and stormed out of the classroom, the children's harsh judgmental laughter following her.

Outside the classroom she closed the door and leaned against it, tears streaming down her face her once serene attitude forever defiled. 

Three gunshots echoed down the hall and the alarm siren went off.  “Active shooter!  Active shooter!” the PA system screeched just as a heavy-set man with a hunting vest festooned with semi-automatic weapons turned the corner and came into view.

“Yahoo, Mr. Crazy Man!” Theresa called out, opening the classroom door and gesturing inside.  “Over here!”

© Buzz Dixon