9/17/75

Lulu, Beks, and I hurried through my shortcut in the woods. “Why are we here again?” Beks asked. “You’ll see.” I called back. “Wait up Annie!” Lulu shouted as she ran to keep up with me. “Keep up girl!” I yelled. “I’m trying!” she called back.

We all came to the train tunnel. I turned to my friends. I was smiling. They were confused. I reached into my book bag and pulled out Beau’s bullets. Beks and Lulu kept staring. “Come with me,” I said. They complied uneasily.

We came down to the mouth of the tunnel. I handed Beks and Lulu a bullet each. “Now watch.” I commanded. They said nothing. I walked beside the rail on the tip toe. The girls followed behind. I walked to the middle of the trail. I was too focused into my little show that I didn’t hear Beks yell, “Annie! Get your ass back with us now!” A train was roaring but I didn’t hear it. I was too enthralled with my work.

I placed Beau’s bullet onto the side of the rail. I backed to the side when I saw the train coming. This was going to be huge.

Then an icy feeling came over me. The train came closer. Fear seized me tightly. Here it comes. BANG! The train ran over Beau’s bullet in full speed. The sound only made my nerves even worse. A scream was trapped in my throat. I thought I would choke. I could hear him screaming at me.

“You!” he yelled. I was stiff in terror. “You!” he yelled again. “Yes you! Stand up straight missy!” Besides Debbie, nothing scared the shit out of me more then that voice. Such a ghastly sound it made.

Soon, the train roared by. My nerves slowly clamed down. I caught my breath and my senses. I left the tunnel coolly. The whole experience was a bitter reminder to me. School was starting tomorrow.

I went to a private Catholic school. Let me say it now, I was in hell! Home life with Debbie was nothing compared to this prison. Sure, some of the teachers were nice. But others, like Mr. Tucker, were Satan in disguise.

When we grew up and went to school

There were certain teachers who would hurt the children any way they could

By pouring their derision upon anything we did

And exposing every weakness however carefully hidden by the kids

Mr. Tucker was a sick bastard. Miserable little man. He was old, bald, and wrinkly like a decaying newspaper. His acid serpent tongue was deadly. His hands were bear claws. Ironically, he was a little man. But even the big bullies feared him. I used to. I remember my worst day with him clearly.

It was a dreary Monday. Mr. Tucker was lecturing the class. I was writing about mice and a raven. I was tightly focused into my work. Soon, I felt someone standing over me coldly. I froze in terror. I lifted my head and saw two glowing eyes looking down at me. Mr. Tucker was frowning at me. I was at his mercy.

“Well, well, well,” the teacher barked. “What do we have here? Notes? Gossip? Satan’s work?” Mr. Tucker snatched my away before I could grab it. His voice scared me. He scanned the pages sternly. My heart raced in panic. He turned back to the class. “No,” the vulture barked. “Stories everybody! The lass thinks she’s a writer!” I felt very sick quickly. His voice gave me nightmares. It only got worse. He read a page of my work. The words were perfect on paper. But when Mr. Tucker read them, they were bitter. I thought I would die. Please let me wake up from this nightmare. Every word was mingled and bitter.

Finally, the vile little man threw my work onto my desk. The sound nearly gave a heart attack. I watched him like a prisoner with the executioner. Please spare me sir!

“Rubbish!” he yelled. “If you spent less time on Satan’s art and more on your work, you wouldn’t be failing so badly!” I felt really small all over again. Then Mr. Tucker went back to the black board and began writing more math problems on it. I felt too low to think clearly. Mr. Tucker says some of the most hurtful things to his students.

But later, I learned a little secret about teachers like Mr. Tucker. I heard other students whisper among themselves. This is what they were saying:

But in the town it was well known

When they got home at night, their fat and psychopathic wives

Would thrash them within inches of their lives

That always made my day. Mr. Tucker was being bullied at home by his wife! It made me want to laugh out loud. He couldn’t stand up to his wife so he took his frustration out on me and all of his other students. It was all a sick twisted ironic joke!