Read Online The Trouble with Polly Brown by Tricia Bennett - Free Book Online Page B

you,” she commanded in her usual frenzied, high-pitched voice. She then marched around the room in her thick, calf-length tweed skirt and heavy Doc Martens boots, stopping at every desk en route to supply each student with a pair of tweezers as well as a small, silver-colored sharp knife that was required for dissecting small objects.
    Of course, when she arrived at Polly’s desk, there was not a measly eyeball in sight, just an empty tray with Polly sitting at her empty desk looking decidedly sheepish.
    â€œBrown, I order you now to produce your eyeballs.”
    Polly remained silent.
    â€œBrown, please do as you’re told and get out your eyeballs,” she fumed.
    â€œUm, guess what? I don’t have any.”
    â€œUnbelievable. Quite, quite…unbelievable,” her teacher roared as she began to foam from the mouth. “Well, I guess we’ll have to remove the ones in your head, if you really don’t have any for this lesson.”
    â€œI’m so very sorry,” Polly awkwardly muttered.
    â€œSorry means nothing when coming from your lips, girl,” her angry teacher spat out.
    For the next awkward twenty seconds her teacher stood frozen to the spot as she waited for one of Polly’s usual most insightful explanations as to why there were no sheep’s eyeballs staring up at her from the steel tray.
    Polly could only shrug her shoulders as she spluttered an apology.
    â€œGirl, get up from your seat and go stand facing the wall at the back of the classroom!” her teacher screamed, her eyes virtually exploding from their sockets. Polly watched as in just a matter of a few seconds her teacher’s whole body began shaking violently, as she experienced her own very private volcanic tremor that, given time, would release seismic amounts of pent-up energy. If recorded, they would measure way beyond any Richter scale.
    â€œI’m so sorry, miss, but, well, is there any way one of the other pupils could loan me one of their spare eyeballs to dissect? For if you look over toward Eleanor Boodlebutt you will see a number of eyeballs that before you entered the room were being used by some to bide away the time with a quick game of marbles,” she said as she directed her teacher’s gaze toward Eleanor’s desk, which had, as she so rightly stated, a number of abandoned eyeballs stacked into a small, ghoulish pile. “So please, miss, say yes,” she begged. Polly’s voice then began to falter as she stared directly into the demonized eyes of her now severely strained teacher.
    â€œBrown, how dare you be so insolent as to even think you can answer me back! Let me tell you now that even if there were enough leftover eyeballs to build an impressive monument to Winston Churchill, I would still refuse to permit any of the other students to help you out. And the simple reason is that I would consider such charity to be in your case a most futile exercise that would only serve to further develop your already sharpened skills in sheer laziness,” she spat, her huge eyes rolling ’round and ’round in mind-boggling and perfectly synchronized hypnotic circles.
    â€œYes, miss,” Polly whispered.
    Her teacher then moved closer until she was almost cheek to cheek with poor Polly, her lips quivering like warmed, wobbly red jelly as she mercilessly continued on with her most severe reprimand. “Yes, Polly Fester Brown, I would have you made aware that your rudeness knows no bounds, for you are a continual sufferance to me. You, my girl, are not only slothful, but you are also the only student who regularly turns up at class without your homework completed or the necessary equipment required,” she roared.
    Polly began to feel very dismayed, but not, I might add, as a result of her teacher’s voracious and very personal attack but rather because through the side of her eye she observed a large, fresh amount of frothy spittle merrily