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Authors: Matthew Revert
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demonstration excited them like little else in recent memory.
“This Wilkens fellow better put on one hell of a display,” quipped a member of the board. “There’s a demonstration occurring at Bleeding Gash Primary today wherein students shall be taught the dangers of idle hands.”
“Oh yes, I read about that in Educational Esoterics last week. They’ll be ripping into some delinquents, forcing the cads to repent or lose their hands in a bear trap. I’d wager quite strongly that repentance or not, these chaps will be losing their dirty masturbators.”
Teachers and members of the board swelled with dry, self-satisfied laughter, instinctively patting each other on the back without even noticing.
“Well if old Wilkens pulls this off, I dare say it will go down as an end of year highlight. He’ll be nosing a hefty bonus afterward, you just watch.”
The laughter continued for quite some time before a teacher raised a rather valid question.
“Speaking of Wilkens, where in the devil is he?”
They all looked about before shrugging their shoulders in ignorance.
“I dare say he’s backstage giving a last minute pep talk to the sorry nimrods who agreed to do this. I imagine he’ll be popping his head in to say hello afterward.”
They all nodded in robotic agreement before averting their attention to the empty stage, making sure to avoid looking at the students, nine of whom had already died from blood loss. The school nurse was now huddled in a far corner, nervously chain smoking. She was already contemplating the word ‘truck’.
A hush descended upon the auditorium, an unknown prompt signalling a beginning to the proceedings. All eyes were fixed upon the stage, where a lonely microphone stand resided. A slight movement of the stage curtain, unknowingly caused by a breeze, set the crowd off into a delirious applause in which many already wounded students broke their hands.
* * * * *
The sound of the rapturous applause sent the five Scroats at the back entrance into action. They flung themselves through the door and made their way toward the sound, firearms at the ready. Several immediate wrong turns resulted but were quickly forgotten when the light from the main hall came into view.
The Scroat leading the approach signalled toward the others in a series of unrehearsed hand gestures that were ignored after mass confusion set in. Their heavy footsteps caught the attention of the audience and several dove for safety underneath their chairs when the firearms were noticed. Without a second thought, all five Scroats began firing haphazardly in the direction of the lights, tearing them apart in a cacophony of bullets and broken glass. As the lights were struck, the glass showered upon the cowering students, shredding many apart in red flashes. The Scroats continued to pump round after round into the ceiling, weakening its structure significantly, before destroying it altogether. Large portions of ceiling fell to the ground, crushing the vast majority of the surviving students to death. The school nurse stood up abruptly in an instinctual display of concern but quickly decided on a hasty exit when she began to understand the extent of the damage.
The teachers and members of the board looked on in bemusement. They were cordoned off from the bedlam thanks to the position of their V.I.P area. If this is part of Wilkens’ demonstration I’m quite impressed , thought one, It’s just a shame about the evident loss of life.
In a sudden burst of confusion, two large, Scroat-manned spotlights were wheeled in from the front entrance and directed toward the ravaged audience in blinding columns. This was followed by two Scroats on ropes falling from the stage ceiling. They fumbled about until they managed to secure a large white cloth made from several dozen sheets. It formed an impressively stark backdrop. Data projectors were immediately placed into position, filling the white backdrop with a strange
“This Wilkens fellow better put on one hell of a display,” quipped a member of the board. “There’s a demonstration occurring at Bleeding Gash Primary today wherein students shall be taught the dangers of idle hands.”
“Oh yes, I read about that in Educational Esoterics last week. They’ll be ripping into some delinquents, forcing the cads to repent or lose their hands in a bear trap. I’d wager quite strongly that repentance or not, these chaps will be losing their dirty masturbators.”
Teachers and members of the board swelled with dry, self-satisfied laughter, instinctively patting each other on the back without even noticing.
“Well if old Wilkens pulls this off, I dare say it will go down as an end of year highlight. He’ll be nosing a hefty bonus afterward, you just watch.”
The laughter continued for quite some time before a teacher raised a rather valid question.
“Speaking of Wilkens, where in the devil is he?”
They all looked about before shrugging their shoulders in ignorance.
“I dare say he’s backstage giving a last minute pep talk to the sorry nimrods who agreed to do this. I imagine he’ll be popping his head in to say hello afterward.”
They all nodded in robotic agreement before averting their attention to the empty stage, making sure to avoid looking at the students, nine of whom had already died from blood loss. The school nurse was now huddled in a far corner, nervously chain smoking. She was already contemplating the word ‘truck’.
A hush descended upon the auditorium, an unknown prompt signalling a beginning to the proceedings. All eyes were fixed upon the stage, where a lonely microphone stand resided. A slight movement of the stage curtain, unknowingly caused by a breeze, set the crowd off into a delirious applause in which many already wounded students broke their hands.
* * * * *
The sound of the rapturous applause sent the five Scroats at the back entrance into action. They flung themselves through the door and made their way toward the sound, firearms at the ready. Several immediate wrong turns resulted but were quickly forgotten when the light from the main hall came into view.
The Scroat leading the approach signalled toward the others in a series of unrehearsed hand gestures that were ignored after mass confusion set in. Their heavy footsteps caught the attention of the audience and several dove for safety underneath their chairs when the firearms were noticed. Without a second thought, all five Scroats began firing haphazardly in the direction of the lights, tearing them apart in a cacophony of bullets and broken glass. As the lights were struck, the glass showered upon the cowering students, shredding many apart in red flashes. The Scroats continued to pump round after round into the ceiling, weakening its structure significantly, before destroying it altogether. Large portions of ceiling fell to the ground, crushing the vast majority of the surviving students to death. The school nurse stood up abruptly in an instinctual display of concern but quickly decided on a hasty exit when she began to understand the extent of the damage.
The teachers and members of the board looked on in bemusement. They were cordoned off from the bedlam thanks to the position of their V.I.P area. If this is part of Wilkens’ demonstration I’m quite impressed , thought one, It’s just a shame about the evident loss of life.
In a sudden burst of confusion, two large, Scroat-manned spotlights were wheeled in from the front entrance and directed toward the ravaged audience in blinding columns. This was followed by two Scroats on ropes falling from the stage ceiling. They fumbled about until they managed to secure a large white cloth made from several dozen sheets. It formed an impressively stark backdrop. Data projectors were immediately placed into position, filling the white backdrop with a strange
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