The right teacher can have a profound impact on children during their adolescence, so we decided to catch up with our favorite eighth-grade English teacher and see what she’s been up to for the last 18 years because we can’t escape this illusory realm.
The Hard Times: Ms. M! It’s been a long time. How are things going?
Ms. McGarry: Things would be much better if these spiders stopped coming out of my belly button. Would you like a glass of warm pineapple juice? I just made some.
Um, no, I’m good, thanks. I think ill just get an iced coffee once I wake up. What’s on the syllabus for this year?
Never mind that. Do you see the small silver box in the back of the room? Go and grab it for me.
Uh, sure, no problem. Are you still teaching “Lord of the Flies?” I remember that was one of my favorite books from the required reading list.
We’ll get to that in a minute. Open the box.
Alright. It’s just a bunch of teeth and a post-it note with some numbers scribbled on it.
Read off the numbers.
I don’t see how this has to do with the sylla…
I said read the numbers
Okay, Jesus Christ, just back up and put down the knife. It says 122531.
[maniacal laughter]
What’s so funny?
[wheezing laughter]
What’s so fucking funny?
That’s the date you’re going to die. You’re going to die on Christmas!
Fuck this. I thought lucid dreaming was supposed to help me access untapped portals of creativity or at least give me a greater sense of control for when I have night terrors, but this shit sucks even worse than a regular nightmare. What time is it, anyway? All the numbers on the clock have been replaced with zodiac symbols. How long have I been here?
You’ve always been here. I should know, sir. I’ve always been here.
Now you’re just reciting lines from “The Shining.”
You’re not prepared!
Sopranos.
Have you ever seen a portal?
Donnie Darko? I think it’s time to wrap this up and see if I can find someone to help me turn this seahorse back into my penis. Good luck with the Fall semester.