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An original piece just for you!
UNDERPANTS by Barry Yourgrau
A substitute teacher hurries to a new school in the morning, to take over a
class for the day. Right as he enters the building, it dawns on him that
something is badly wrong. Somehow, he realizes, from nervousness no doubt, he
has neglected to put on clothes. He is wearing his T-shirt and underpants.
And that is it.
Hes in the middle of the crowded main hall. He freezes. Incredibly, no one
seems to notice. The buzzer goes off harshly for the start of classes. The
substitute teacher gulps. Too late now for him to rush home and change in time.
And no teach, no pay. Desperately, he decides hell just have to trust in his
luck, and start teaching, and hope peoples noticing remains zero.
And it seems to, unbelievably, as he stands in front of the class at the
blackboard. No giggles, no wisecracks, not the slightest hint of an alarmed
scream. Even so he feels miserably self-conscious. Here he is, barefoot, with
his not-so-clean intimate garments and his bare skinny legs on display to the
whole world, if anyone cared to pay attention. Whereas the kids in his charge,
he now becomes aware, are stupendously well-dressed. Every boy wears a tidy
suit. Every girl sparkles in an immaculately elegant dress.
Shame floods the substitute teacher. Hes been put briefly in charge of all
these beautifully groomed, developing souls (meaning the kids), and hes shown
up for the job half-naked! Its almost criminally negligent of him, an insult to
the whole profound educational enterprise. Red-faced with guilt, he calls
forward the most haughtily dressed girl--Phoebe Binkley--and instructs her to
take charge of the class while he has to go out for a moment.
He slinks out into the hall. Pulsing with shame, he tiptoes away frantically
down the corridor, to get out of
the building, the scene of his outrage, as fast as he can.
Suddenly a voice booms behind him.
Hey you! it cries. Where you think youre going?
The substitute teacher gasps. He freezes. In horror he slowly turns. A portly,
gray-haired older man stares at him.
Whats going on? demands the man. Are you the substitute teacher?
The substitute teacher turns even redder, if thats possible, staring back in
shock.
Well, are you? the portly man demands. Im the principal here. He lifts an
arm and points back down the hall. So you get back in your classroom, buster,
right this minute, you hear?
Then he winks at the flabbergasted substitute teacher. Hey, youre gonna fit
right in, dressed like that, he chuckles softly.
Boy, I think so.
And since hes stark naked, he should know what hes talking about.
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