sid | Open for prompts

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In an effort to kickstart something - anything - I'm opening the floor to prompts for the next hour.

No guarantees that anyone will ever actually receive anything!

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From:

sid

“Mister O’Neill. Will you please stop squirming around?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jack gave the teacher a look that would have stopped an airman dead in his or her tracks, but she gave him back a glare that would make a First Prime quake in his boots. Chalk one up for the boring lady. Ha. Chalk! You can take the boy out of the classroom – for twenty-five years or so – and then dump him back in the classroom as punishment for breaking some stupid taboo that he had no way of knowing about, for crying out loud, and learn that schoolboy humor never gets old. Or something like that.

Jack on the other hand was feeling positively decrepit. These kids couldn’t be more than eight.

“Rhondia?”

The little girl stood up. “Orcaston was the Father of Our Nation and he stopped the fighting with the Porfmanders and he and his brother wrote Our Constitution.” She sat down again and gave her hair a flip.

“Show-off know-it-all,” Jack bitched under his breath.

Daniel, at the next too-small-for-a-grown-man desk, shot him a look that said, “Behave,” loud and clear.

“Can one of our visitors tell us the name of Orcaston’s brother?”

Daniel’s hand went up. Jack rolled his eyes.

Teacher saw him. “Yes, Mister O’Neill?”

“What?” Jack tried to look innocent and harmless.

“Can you tell me…?”

“I’m thinking it was… Dusseldorf.” Daniel made an exasperated sound. Jack shot him a glance. “Something like that. He was Orcastrion’s older brother, if I recall correctly.”

“Or-cas-ton,” Rhondia hissed.

Just wait until I catch up to you on the playground, missy, Jack glowered at her. She sniffed and turned away with another hair-flip.

“Mister Jackson?” the teacher sighed.

“Orcaston’s older brother was actually named Findlayn, after their mother’s uncle. It was his younger brother, Duffselm, who assisted him in the drafting of the Constitution and who served as First Minister to the infant Nation.” Daniel sat down.

Jack sneered at him.

Daniel stuck out his tongue.

Jack crossed his eyes.

“Mister O’Neill,” the teacher said warningly.

Jack subsided, lowering his head. He heard Daniel’s pen tapping.

It sounded smug.

Jack picked up his own pen and wrote in his notebook in large block letters. He stood the notebook on end and aimed it in Daniel’s direction, clearing his throat quietly.

Daniel looked. Looked again.

TEACHER’S PET

The pen tapping was definitely smug. It went with the smirk on Daniel’s face.

Jack moved Daniel to the top of his just wait until I catch up to you on the playground list, and settled back in his tiny chair with a smirk of his own.