3In every class, there is an idiot. But in this class, there was a special idiot. His name was Paul and he was the last surviving Neanderthal.
"Paul!" Ms. Partridge roared at the top of her lungs like an angry seal. "What are you doing?!"
He was shaggy in appearance, lacking in intellectual aptitude. He seemed to like to make people mad.
A chubby boy with shaggy black hair looked up and grinned. "Hi Ms. Partridge," he boomed. "What's shaking?"
Ms. Partridge's blue eyes glared at him, burning a hole into his soul. Anyone could tell that she really didn't like him. She briskly walked over to him, her red hair standing up straight. "Paul," she growled. "Those rulers are NOT boomerangs!" She grabbed the orange device from his hand. "If you want to be a kid, there's a playground down the road." She sat down at her desk and sighed.
He could barely understand the faintest social cues, yet he was still human.
"Really, Ms. Partridge?" he faked enthusiasm. "I can go to a playground? WOO HOO! I'M A BIG KID NOW!" Ms. Partridge glared at him.
"Whatever, just go," she snapped. "Anything to get you out of my hair." Upon hearing this, another boy, one of Paul's allies decided to join in too.
"You should go Ms. Partridge!" He called mockingly. She sighed in frustration.
"Fine," she exclaimed, exasperated. "When I'm out of my mind, we'll all go down to the playground and have a jolly good time!"
Ms. Partridge had been teaching for many years. And now, after all this time, she was starting to lose it.
The second day, it was worse.
"Paul," she yelled. "Why are you eating the crayons?!" She ran over to him and tried to salvage the ones the hungry Neanderthal hadn't eaten. He still had a crayon in his mouth, it was pink.
His diet consisted of crayons, thumbtacks, old homework, homework he didn't want to do, smelly socks, his household pets (he was quite fond of mice) and sometimes…he tried to eat himself.
"I dunno," he chewed on the crayon. "I was hungry."
She groaned in frustration. "Well, you should have eaten at lunch!"
"I don't have money, Ms. Partridge. I'm poor."
He doesn't have any money because he ate it for breakfast.
"Well, you should get a job!"
He tried to get a job. They wouldn't hire him because he flipped out and drooled on a customer.
"Why don't YOU feed me, Ms. Partridge?"
"Because it's not my job to feed you, Paul. It's your mother's."
"I think it's because you hate me," he belched. "You're a hater Ms. Partridge. You're evil, EVIL!"
And the third day, even worse.
"Aarrahh!" Paul screamed as he used the trashcan as a drum set. Ms. Partridge came in and groaned.
A Neanderthal likes to have his amusement, especially after a bad day. There is no right or wrong place for it. A Neanderthal will have his fun ANYWHERE.
"Not again," she said to herself. She pulled the trashcan out from under him. Paul pouted.
"What did you do THAT for, Ms. Partridge? You fun killer!" Ms. Partridge shook her secretly asked herself why she even got this job. She always got the worst students, but Paul was by far the worst.
"You can't play drums in here Paul! This is MATH class!"
He snarled. "But I don't want to do math, Ms. Partridge!" he groaned. "I wanna play the drums. I'm crazy today, don't mess my groove!"
"You know what Paul?" her eyes darted at him. "You're making ME crazy!"
"Ms. Partridge, why are you giving me the evil eye?" he shrank back. Ms. Partridge was very scary sometimes.
"Come," she ordered. "Now!"
A Neanderthal will feel intimidated…especially by the Alpha Female.
She shut the door and glared at him. "Listen," she whispered harshly. "You keep this up and your butt is going out of my classroom and into someone else's!"
Paul looked hurt and tried to intervene. "But I didn't do anything Ms. Partridge!"
"Don't give me that! You know what you did. It's going to stop, or else!"
The fourth day, there was some slight improvement…but Paul still had a ways to go.
"Ms. Partridge," Paul wailed. "I don't have my homework." She looked up and sighed.
"And WHY don't you have your homework Paul?"
"I ate it."
"Paul, be serious!"
"I AM serious, Ms. Partridge. I thought I had eaten my test, because I flunked it, but I ate my homework."
"Paul, you can't expect me to believe THAT!" She took out her grading book. "You'll get a zero, just like everyone else who doesn't do their homework."
He shrugged. "Oh well…I have an A in this class anyway." Ms. Partridge scoffed.
"If YOU have an 'A' I'll throw myself off this building."
"You'll kill yourself, Ms. Partridge?" he mocked.
She glared at him. "Yeah, and I'll bring you down with me." The class made awed noises. Paul was glued to his chair in fear.
After class, Ms. Partridge made a phone call to the police department. She had simply had enough. "Excuse me? Yes, I'm here to get a restraining order on one of my students. He's too much…he's just too much. Get him out of here as soon as possible."
The next day, Ms. Partridge was ready to lose it.
"Ms. Partridge," he wailed like a dying cow. "I broke the desk."
She grinned to the wall. "Just a few more minutes and he'll be gone!" She giggled to herself. She smiled sweetly at Paul as she went over to him. "What happened?" she asked quietly.
Paul was confused. "I..broke the desk," he drawled.
"You sat on it?"
"Yeah."
"Oh…Paul. I'm…" out of the corner of her eye she saw a policeman at the door. She grinned. "Really going to miss you!" she laughed. She held him down to the chair. "Here he is, get him!" The officer took him by the arm.
"A restraining order has been placed upon you by Ms. Partridge. You are not to come within 25 feet of her or you will be under arrest."
Paul stared blankly back at him. "What? I didn't do anything?"
"That's what they all say," he said grimly. "Come on kid, let's go."
"Wait, wait! I didn't do anything! I'm innocent! Ms. Partridge!"
Ms. Partridge didn't do anything. She simply sat in her chair and grinned wildly. She was the happiest woman in the world.
And so ends the tale of Paul the Neanderthal, who through the means of science, managed to overcome his genetic disease. He had to be wary of thumbtacks though, and eating himself. Ms. Partridge lived a long and happy life and never saw Paul again. She still has a picture of him, drawn by her. It depicts him falling to his death from the top of the school. My, he was a disliked fellow. Good day.
A/N: This is based of my math class. Paul is a real person, although what he did was stretched to make it more amusing. Ms. Partridge is a real math teacher, although she too has been stretched a little (not much). Both their real names have been witheld to remain annonymous. I dislike my math class and I like to make fun of the things I don't like. I hope it isn't too gruesome. It just isn't a nice math class.