Stone Cold.

Stone Cold

A complete and utter bore of a teacher, everybody gets one sometimes.

It only stands to reason. Look at it this way: you are going to have

lots of teachers in your life time, at least one of them will be stuck

so far up their own behind, that you have more chance of breaking into

Fort Knox than breaking a smile out of them. So don't worry about it.

Unless you get one like Mr Stone.

I have reason to believe that Mr. Stone was put on this planet for the

sole purpose of making my life living hell, but this particular day

was by far the worst. I remember it because it was the day we moved

into our new house. The day began to turn sour around period 4. I

arrived late to his class and shuffled my way towards my seat and

although I had not even made eye contact yet I could feel Stones'

sharp, evil eyes burning into the back of my shaven head like two red

hot pokers. I undid my black parka coat and sat down on the hard,

worn-out plastic chair. As I sat down my eyes met his. He gave me an

icy glare but I did not react. This is exactly what he wanted me to

do. Instead I just flashed him a quick smile.

" Get out my classroom Miller! " Stone bellowed in his strong northern

accent.

" What for? I aven't done nethin" I replied already on my way out of

Stones stuffy lair still grinning from ear to ear.

I can't help smiling. I am just a naturally smiling sort of person.

Anyway, it wouldn't have done him any harm to smile a bit. Mr Stone

had never smiled in his life. He had a mean, boy-hating sort of face.

You could tell what kind of mood he was in by the number of wrinkles

on his oily skin. Two hundred wrinkles was a good day. One thousand

was a bad day. They ran across his face like deep rivers of age.