The DRAMA Column

Sunrises through the yellow bus window.  I hear the high pitched shrieks of children all around me.  I’m so confused, where the hell am I this time? I follow them as they exit the bus, running around with no concern what so ever.  I end up with them in a class room, why did I walk with them, I don’t belong.  I sit down in a worn wooden desk looking on a busted dusty black board.  A woman with wool for hair and a hooked nose starts calling role in the same monotonous voice you would expect from a person without a soul. She wears a pink scarf and a white blouse that shows the sag, it makes me nauseous. I continue to stare at her, wondering why do I have to listen to this decrepit old witch.

I hear something, “John Bart, John Bart, are you not paying attention again?”  The hair on her head bounces up and down as she approaches me.  I guess that is who I am this time.  Not Remus Ditto I am John Bart.  The old hag towers over me with her hooked nose only inches away.  She gives me a devilish grin and snidely states, “Just like your father a hopeless dreamer with no future.  I hope your teacher in the third grade is just as lenient as I am.”

I interrupt her pointless rant and rise up out of my seat. “Excuse me Ma’am, but I am not John Bart.”  She smiles as I say this.  In a sick way she enjoys the game we’re about to play.  She wants to prove her dominance over a second grader.  She can possibly know how this is going to end.

“Oh, really.  If you’re not John Bart then who are you?  Let me guess Mickey Mouse, no Spider Man, or maybe one of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.”  Her grin widened as she continued to mock me.  I put my foot down on hers, and grabbed her sickly pink scarf.

“Listen you dilapidated old crone.  You think you might be better than the rest of these children, but I’m not like them I won’t let you boss me around like them.  I’m not afraid of some witch who feels the need to belittle seven year olds.  If you must know who I am I’ll tell you.” I pause only to breathe in and scream, “I am Remus Ditto!  Now if you don’t mind I will be taking my leave of absence from this class as I feel that anybody who is as shriveled on the inside as you won’t be able to teach me anything of value let alone help me find my face!”  I begin to leave the room,  cheers and clapping follow me as I exit the old wooden door.  I don’t know if I did the right thing.  I might have made life hell for this kid.  If this happens again I think I might have to be more careful.  I playing with people’s lives.  I continue to walk down the hallway then a light…

~Mick Coughlin