Mathew (short, incompetent) used to come into the classroom, throw pieces of chalk at me(bigger, has no ego), and then run away. One day I found myself choking Mathew in the hallway, while all the kids watched with glee. The chalk-attack stopped. Respect was gained.
I am 29 years old. Today, Mathew appeared in my dream. This time, carrying a bottle of old water. How old? It had mosquito larvae jumping around. As he proceeded to spray it onto my face, I could see his and his accomplice’s faces light up with glee, like, it was pure, genuine happiness. After all these years of failing at stand-up comedy, this is what it takes to make people happy. The plan of action was obvious. Pick him up, throw him over the fence. Try to get him to fall on the fence, as it had pieces of glass sticking out of it. But as you know, dreams behave like bipolar people. You can never predict the switch to a nightmare. My legs wouldn’t move.
(Sound of children playing in the background. School bell rings)
My legs wouldn’t move.