Horror High 1 by Paul Stafford

A dozen conversations buzzed around the rollcall room, spreading slanderous gossip and allegations against fellow students like flies spreading dirt and disease. It was just like any other day at Horror High.
    The classroom door suddenly wrenched open under its own power, then slammed shut with a crash. Everyone scattered in panic.
    Silence.
    A spiral of scarlet smoke writhed slowly up through the floorboards, twisting and whirling hypnotically. When the smoke cleared, there crouched Grimsweather the Rollcall Master, glowering. His mouth frothed with white foam and his eyes radiated pure beetroot-red hate, like two overcooked hateful beetroots.
    â€˜Dandyline!’ he screeched. ‘Out! Execution! Lunchtime! No reprieves! No excuses! No buts!’
    â€˜But, but, but …’ stammered Geoff Dandyline, his pearly white clodhopper choppers forming a gleaming canopy over his downpipe lip. ‘But, but …’
    â€˜Not your butt, Dandyline, your head,’ sneered Grimsweather. ‘I want your head removed from your stupid neck, as per standard execution procedure. That you would get your butt mixed up with your head is a natural and understandable mistake, but unless you want me to introduce my size twelve boot of knowledge to your smelly seat of ignorance, I suggest you exit. Capiche?’
    â€˜Huh?’ mooned Dandyline.
    â€˜ Out! ’ howled Grimsweather.
    Dandyline knew better than to argue. He shivered, rubbed his neck, stood, scratched his butt, staggered to the front of the classroom, passed his classmates, passed Grimsweather and angled reluctantly towards the door.
    His shaking hand had just touched the door handle and was in the act of turning it when Grimsweather crowed out triumphantly, ‘ April Fool! ’
    There was a moment of silence before the class began laughing, half in relief and half in the knowledge it was better to laugh at one of Grimsweather’s pathetic jokes than become a victim of one.
    Dandyline let out an immense sigh of relief. ‘Really, sir? A joke, sir? Thank you, sir. Nice one, sir. For a second there I thought you’d lost your mind again, sir.’
    Grimsweather’s gloating smile instantly became small and dangerous, like a Mafia dwarf. ‘What exactly do you mean by “ again ”, Dandyline?’
    The bucktoothed class dunce instantly sensed the shaky ground he was back on. He worriedly licked his teeth like an over-protective cat gozz-washing her favourite kitten, and gulped. ‘Not again , sir. What I meant to say, sir, was, like, for the first time ever …’
    â€˜But you said “ again ”, Dandyline. Are you suggesting I’ve lost my mind in the past?’
    â€˜Oh no , sir. Never, sir. Not possible, sir.’
    The Rollcall Master gently nodded and almost purred, ‘Haven’t got a mind to lose, eh Dandyline?’
    Dandyline visibly relaxed. ‘That’s right, sir.’
    â€˜ What! ’ Grimsweather roared.
    â€˜No sir! I mean, sorry, sir. My mistake, sir. Big mistake, sir. Big mind you have, sir. Big mind, huge brain, very nice, very smart, sir.’
    â€˜Just shut up, Dandyline.’
    â€˜Yes, sir.’
    â€˜I said “Shut up”, Dandyline.’
    â€˜Yes, sir.’
    Grimsweather’s breath hissed like a tyre leak. ‘That means, Dandyline, a cessation of speech from your stupid mouth.’
    â€˜Yes, sir. I know, sir. People tell me to shut up all the time, sir, so I know exactly what it means, sir.’
    â€˜So what exactly do you think it means, Dandyline?’
    â€˜Shut your big, fat, ugly, ignorant, gaping, great trench of a mouth, sir.’
    â€˜ What? ’ screamed Grimsweather, leaping out of his seat.
    â€˜That’s what I think it means, sir, though I could be wrong.’
    Grimsweather gripped the desk for a long moment then sat again, sighing. ‘Could be wrong? Could be wrong? You were born wrong, Dandyline. Now do me, the