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The Kool Teacher

Freshly appointed, I paraded to my town's only school, vastly impressed to know that the music teacher I was going to replace was found dead in his bed listening to Celine Dion's I'm Alive on repeat mode.

The very first session I was up there to stir my mournful students. "Come on! Take your mischief out of the bag," I said, "come you all and stand in front of the piano. Concentrate! Punch it strongly and devour its keys as if they were delicious chocolate biscuits." It was our piano session; we had a chocolate party.

Then, it was the flute session. I stopped one student busy blowing some crap music. "Take your fingers everyone, and carefully close all the holes in the flute until it suffocates and dies," I said solemnly.

They all enjoyed their new status of musical criminals.

The afternoon caretaker was baffled to see so many flutes in the dustbin. "They are all dead so he can't possibly think of selling them," one student murmured. I adored his logic.

Then I taught everyone how to hang their drum from the ceiling at home and learn boxing. I even taught them how to take the trumpet, blow into it once and throw it calmly over their roof. We also learned how to mould the triangle into a perfect square to compose a peppy song la John Deacon.

Cool.

I was about to show my students how to grab their expensive guitar, crush it on the floor and strangle their sadness with the strings. I just didn't have time as I was fired. I went home totally dead and downloaded

I'm Alive.

Story by:

Amit Parmessur

submitted at 3:35pm

19 October 2010

Amit Parmessur's web:

www.writerscafe.org