Dodger for President by Jordan Sonnenblick Page A

Pointless Paperwork (Triplicate Filings Division), we’ve invented a new suspension form, and you’ve been selected as the very first principal in the entire state who gets to use it. And we understand you will get to fill it out FOUR times! This will be great. Unfortunately the computer version isn’t quite ready yet, but that’s all right. I hope you have a lot of pens handy.”
    Oh, come on, Dodger
, I thought.
You sound like a half-surfer, half-school-boss. And a handwritten form? Dr. W. is an intelligent, professional educator. With or without a magic belief spray, there’s no way she’s going to buy your act.
    â€œI’m sure my secretary has plenty of pens she can use to fill out your new form, Dr. Chimpstone.”
    Okay, maybe she was buying it.
    Dodger threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, that’s a good one! I knew you were, like, a totally impressive law-and-order principal, but I didn’tknow you also had such an excellent sense of humor. I’m sure you’re familiar with Regulation G-Nine, which clearly states that all suspension paperwork must be personally filled in by the principal herself, in triplicate. So that’s, uh, thirteen forms you’ll need to fill out for the four students in front of you.”
    â€œActually, sir, four times three is twelve.” Dr. W. said this with a bit of attitude, but I noticed she was looking a bit pale and shaky all of a sudden.
    â€œOh, right. Dude, no
wonder
they kicked me out of the Division of Multiplication. Just kidding. Get it, though? Division of Multiplication? See, because division and multiplication are opposites, so that’s a totally funny name for a—well, anyway, you are correct. You’ll only have to fill out the form twelve times, then. Whew! That will save you about nineteen pages of writing. Well, plus the D-Seventeen form: Permission to Staple Multiple Handwritten Copies.”
    â€œSo,” Dr. W. said, “you’re telling me I have to fill out twelve copies of a nineteen-page form—personally? By
hand
?”
    â€œYes, Dr. Whistleblower, you are the chosenone. We here at the state know that, while many other, less-determined principals might choose to let these four children go due to the total lack of evidence, you wouldn’t let a measly seven hours of boring hand-copying get between you and the, uh, administration of justice. Right?” He gave a hearty chuckle.
    Dr. W. made a weak attempt to laugh in response, but what came out of her sounded like the last cry of a strangled crow. Her skin was losing all of its color, too. “Uh, right. That’s me: Dr. Justice!”
    â€œPerfect!” Dodger shouted. “Then we’ll fax you the instructions for filling out Form DP-Seven, as well. That’s the Illustration of Incident Scene in Pastel Watercolors. Dude, this one is amazing! I invented it myself. All you have to do is paint a life-size six-panel series of illustrations showing the progress of the incident. Per student, of course. I have to warn you, the instructions are a bit long. They were written by my brother, umm, Dr. Rodger Chimpstone. I hope you have a lot of paper in your fax machine!”
    Dr. W. just sat there staring at the speaker in horror. I swear, her face was absolutely gray.
    â€œHello?” Dodger said. “Are you, like, still with me?”
    Dr. W. cleared her throat. “Uh, yes, sir.”
    â€œGreat! Then I think you should get started on that paperwork. If you tackle this right away, I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t be able to leave your office by—oh, I don’t know—next Friday afternoon? If you’d like, we can get you some food and water. I’ll just send over a form X-Thirty-one: Application for Liver and Surplus Cheese on Dampened Onion Bread.”
    Dr. W. wiped her clammy-looking forehead and said, “Um, sir. On second thought, perhaps I will give these children a