Barbarism begins at school
I was hoping to have a normal day, after all the excitement, tension, and threats of drama club. We have a supply teacher for the rest of the year for English, since Mirabell's been Form-37'd. I see two months of reading the anthology ahead. Then, during my spare period, I was told to go to the principal's office. When I got there, Zenia, Zahava, Zainab, Zapata, and Zenobia were already there.
The principal then came in, gripping a piece of paper with a list on it, and seemed a little nervous. "Well, young ladies, it's come to my, and the parents' association's, attention that you all belong to a threatening youth subculture. Now, don't just think of me as your school principal, think of me as your friend, or your friend who happens to be the school principal. What are your goals in life? How can your present mode of dress and attitude help you along to them?" He pointed to Zenia. "What, for instance, is your goal for the future?"
"To drain and devour men's souls, one by one." Zenia was being brief for once. The principal pointed at me.
"What's your goal?"
"To leave Milborough forever, revisiting it only in the form of an accurate but cruel roman a clef. Oh yes, and to live a life of obsession and depression." The principal shook his head.
"That's precisely why we're all worried about you girls. Your habits are anti-social: you, over there, why do you waste your money on cigarettes?" He meant Zenobia.
"I smoke because I'm hoping for an early death," she said.
"And you?" He motioned over to Zapata.
"What she said," Zapata said.
"Honestly: I can't have the press saying I'm doing nothing about the goth menace. Milborough's already got a terrible reputation, what with the electrified rodents, that drama production, and Ontario's worst rate of pharmacy-related accidents. You girls all need community service hours for graduation next year, and you're all going to get them." We all looked at each other confusedly. "Some dentist in town has been going on in the Petfinder about how people around here are spoiled by the amount they throw away, or something like that. I'm sending you girls out to clean Milborough, or at least the downtown, in your "goth" gear, or whatever you call it."
"Why not in our school uniforms, sir?" I asked. Zapata was starting to fume.
"What would be the point of that? I want Milborough to show Canada that you goth kids are public spirited, ecologically minded, and hard working. You start tomorrow after school." The principal looked at the list he had in his hand, and said we could go. As we filed out, I heard him yell at his secretary, "Send in the stoners!"
The principal then came in, gripping a piece of paper with a list on it, and seemed a little nervous. "Well, young ladies, it's come to my, and the parents' association's, attention that you all belong to a threatening youth subculture. Now, don't just think of me as your school principal, think of me as your friend, or your friend who happens to be the school principal. What are your goals in life? How can your present mode of dress and attitude help you along to them?" He pointed to Zenia. "What, for instance, is your goal for the future?"
"To drain and devour men's souls, one by one." Zenia was being brief for once. The principal pointed at me.
"What's your goal?"
"To leave Milborough forever, revisiting it only in the form of an accurate but cruel roman a clef. Oh yes, and to live a life of obsession and depression." The principal shook his head.
"That's precisely why we're all worried about you girls. Your habits are anti-social: you, over there, why do you waste your money on cigarettes?" He meant Zenobia.
"I smoke because I'm hoping for an early death," she said.
"And you?" He motioned over to Zapata.
"What she said," Zapata said.
"Honestly: I can't have the press saying I'm doing nothing about the goth menace. Milborough's already got a terrible reputation, what with the electrified rodents, that drama production, and Ontario's worst rate of pharmacy-related accidents. You girls all need community service hours for graduation next year, and you're all going to get them." We all looked at each other confusedly. "Some dentist in town has been going on in the Petfinder about how people around here are spoiled by the amount they throw away, or something like that. I'm sending you girls out to clean Milborough, or at least the downtown, in your "goth" gear, or whatever you call it."
"Why not in our school uniforms, sir?" I asked. Zapata was starting to fume.
"What would be the point of that? I want Milborough to show Canada that you goth kids are public spirited, ecologically minded, and hard working. You start tomorrow after school." The principal looked at the list he had in his hand, and said we could go. As we filed out, I heard him yell at his secretary, "Send in the stoners!"
posted by Zandra Larson at 6:17 p.m.
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