Meat and Pudding

The putty-faced student marched down the hallway at the instruction of her teacher. She was to remain a few steps behind at all times, never once complaining or having an opinion about any of this. There wasn’t even to be a suggestion as to this meeting with the schoolmaster being a luck of the draw punishment. No opinions or critical thinking of any kind, just marching. The dragons, elves, ogres, and faeries that danced around her brain were reduced to meat shreds by constant conformity. She didn’t mind. She was never meant to mind.

“Halt!” shouted the teacher, to which the student complied. The teacher knocked on the door, awaiting for the schoolmaster to let them both in. There was some hasty wrestling going on in that office. But the putty-faced zombie student had no opinion of it. Once the familiar Scottish accent ordered her to come in, the teacher opened the door and in marched the student like a good little girl.

The door slammed shut and all that remained was a dimly-lit office with books on shelves and degrees mounted on the wall. None of those books probably contained dragons, barbarians, or knights, and the nameless slave didn’t care. Her weary eyes peeked through her clay mask at the Scottish schoolmaster sitting at his desk, drumming his fingers and scowling at her. His white moustache was enough to give away his age and every elderly stereotype that went with it. His black robe and square cap gave away every ounce of authority he had over her, a mere zombie student in a blue blazer, plaid skirt, and brown leather shoes. And that mask. Oh, that mask.

“I understand you’re wondering why you’re here,” said the schoolmaster in a low and sinister voice. “I can assure you it has nothing to do with the constant whining, missed assignments, tardiness, and everything else your generation is known for. It’s not just you, lassie. It’s the student body in general.” He smirked. “Student body.” There would have been a chilling feeling in the student’s stomach if she was capable of critical thought.

“I brought you here today…because I need to vent…and you are going to listen to every last syllable…” The schoolmaster slammed his palms on the desk and stood up halfway. “I hate this job. I hate the people I work with. I hate the ungrateful bastards who goof off in my class like it means nothing to them. I don’t have time for little goblins who don’t take their education seriously. I could just as easily walk off school grounds tomorrow and wish a pox on this entire place.”

He sat back down and folded his hands. “But I won’t do that. You know why? Because I learned the other day that it wasn’t the job itself that was dreadful. It was because it was…missing a certain something. I need something to make my job more…enjoyable. More fun. More satisfying. Work is boring. But you, my lady…you’re not boring at all…In fact…you’re just what I’m looking for.”

The student trembled, but not enough to give away true emotions. The schoolmaster continued. “Do you know why I make you and so many other students wear that faceless mask? Because then, and only then, do I not have to see the look of anguish on your faces when I do what I do. No face equals no guilt. No squinting eyes equals no shame. As much as I like to laugh at the Twilight nonsense of the world, the author managed to get one thing right.” He stood up and revealed that he wasn’t wearing pants underneath his robe. His sausage-like penis lifted the hem of his robe, maggots crawling around it. “The one thing she got right…is that girls with no ambition…are wildly sexy!”

As he slowly crept around his desk, the student’s trembling became more obvious as she backed up against the office door. He continued. “No ambition means no objections. And no objections means…free consent!” His demonic snickers morphed into howling and cackling while his red meat erection grew longer and stronger. “Come to me, my sweet Mary-Sue! Let’s make both of our existences…a lot more fun!”

The dragons and elves in the student’s mind were screaming to be free, screaming for her to snap out of his conformist haze, screaming for her to stand up for herself. She shook some more. She dropped to her butt as the schoolmaster got closer, his yellow fingernails unsheathed. He reached down to touch her neck, most likely wanting some foreplay, some tender moments with his underage pupil.

And then…the student let out a shriek of terror. The schoolmaster reflexively pulled his hand back and covered his own ears, the shriek growing more unbearable by the second. The student stood up and struggled to untwist the doorknob. The schoolmaster wasn’t deterred for long as his yellow fingernails gently raked down her back and his sausage poked her in the skirted bum.

He whispered, “If you don’t eat your meat…you can’t have any pudding…How can you have any pudding if you don’t eat your meat? That starts to take on a whole new meaning, doesn’t it, lassie?”

There was nothing zombie-like about adrenaline chilling the student’s body like a morgue freezer. She stomped on the schoolmaster’s foot and had him hobbling around like a lunatic. She finally opened the door and stormed down the hallway screaming. But there was no such exit for her. Clay-masked pupils formed a wall in front of her and gazed into her soul with empty eyes. On her other side, teachers and administrative staff glared at her while one teacher bounced a ruler in her hand.

The two sides closed in on her every so slowly, playing the roles of zombies to a T. The schoolmaster pushed his way to the front of the teacher wall and snickered at her some more. The closer they got, the less oxygen the putty-faced girl had at her disposal. She clutched her chest in an effort to stay alert, dizziness spiraling through her mind like a stroke. And then her saving grace came in the form of a steel door, which she threw open and bolted down at top speed.

She pumped the brakes as soon as she saw what this was a hallway for: a meat grinder pit clanking and clobbering in search of its next conformist meal. A dead end and a dead body: such was the way of compulsory education. The zombie students, angry faculty, and Scottish schoolmaster blocked the doorway, making both of the student’s escape options result in death or worse. The schoolmaster stalked down the catwalk and edged the student closer to the meat grinder. She did her best to stay balanced, though her dizziness began to cripple every limb on her body.

“Do you want an A+, lassie? Do you want to graduate? If you want that A+…you’ll have to take a D first!” The schoolmaster’s image blurred in and out of focus, the student swearing she was going to faint at any minute. She needed something to hold onto. A railing on the catwalk? Her own trembling legs? No. The piece of maggot-infested meat that dangled from the schoolmaster’s crotch. His smile revealed nicotine-stained teeth and a slathering tongue. “What are you waiting for? Stand still, lassie!”

“Oh, you big tease,” the student flirted. “Uh-oh. Did I just form an opinion of my own? Too bad!” With one yank of his slimy meat, the masked student pulled the schoolmaster past her and launched him into the mincer. Those blocking the door gasped in horror at their one true master being reduced to farmer’s shreds and parasites. He could have worn a mask to hide his pain, but that wouldn’t have been nearly as satisfying to the student, who removed her own mask in defiance and threw it into the grinder.

“Just so there’s no confusion, I had a name all along. My name is Jennifer Heath. In my humble opinion…I think this school SUCKS!” More gasping erupted from the crowd. Jennifer lifted her dimpled face defiantly and said, “I guess you’ll have to expel me now. But what will I do with my life? Maybe I can work at McDonald’s and serve up some Quarter Pounders coming from yours truly!” There was a collective, “Eww!” from the crowd.

“Oh, don’t act disgusted!” Jennifer snorted. “If you’re willing to allow a pedophile to run your school, then you have no business pretended that something I said was gross. Why did you let him work here anyways? How many more of you had he fucked?!”

“Watch your language, lassie!” said a random teacher while pointing a ruler at Jennifer.

“Or what?! You’re going to hit me with that little stick?! I’m sure some of you have been hit with a much bigger stick in your day.” The faceless students tucked their heads in shame. “Am I wrong? Am I?!”

Suddenly, the students and faculty had a stare down. Opinions were allowed again, not by the authority, but by someone who dared to resist it. The faculty began backing off and holding their hands up defensively. The students were much quicker on the draw. They threw their masks to the ground and stampeded the teachers with riotous force. They screamed obscenities and threw down with their elders, while the stuck-up teachers begged for help. Their authoritarian ways were all an act. They were tough up until the students sung a different tune.

One of the teachers scrambled into the meat grinder catwalk with Jennifer in an attempt to catch his breath.

“We don’t need no education…” sang Jennifer.

“Yes, you do. You just used a double negative.”

Jennifer Heath cracked her knuckles and smiled at her next victim. The teacher swallowed a cannonball-sized lump as it dawned on him what was coming.