The Adventure of Sergeant Timothius at Lloyd High School

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The Situation
Lloyd High School has had the long-standing tradition of Halloween Dress-Up Day, that pagan ritual where all of the students don costumes and pretend to be who they aren't. I had worked since August on my costume in anticipation of this day. The week before the Big Day was fraught with peril, however. Rumors abounded. "They won't let us wear our costumes!" "They will let us wear our costumes!" "We can't wear our costumes, but we will be 'allowed' to wear tye-dye!" Come Monday, All Hallow's Eve, and the news is broken by Mr. Riehemann, the principal:

"We will be having a 60's Tye-Dye day. Awards will be given for the funniest, scariest, and most original tye-dye costumes."

"Most original hippie costume?" I shouted to the intercom. "What in the name of all that is good and decent is that!?" The intercom did not have an appropriate answer. In fact, my outburst made the inanimate wooden box speechless. The rest of that day I hovered in a funk on whether I should risk detention and suspension for wearing my costume anyway and breaking dress code or just wear all black in protest. After a nap at home, the epiphany struck me: Students must follow the dress code during the school day. I have early classes, so my day ends one class period before everyone else's. Therefore, I could wear my costume during the last period of the day as I will not be in any classes. During the day I would wear the black sweatsuit that was an integral part of my costume. I can rebel legally. Sweet!

The Costume

Sergeant Timothius: Protector of the Weak, Defender of the Innocent, and a Third Thing to Go With the Other Two

My Adventures

It was hard work to even get into the suit. Here I am elated by its completion.

Next came the bionic eye. Here, my squire affixes the implant using spirit gum.

There we go. Perfect fit.

We then proceeded to enter the school. The rear doors were locked, so we went around the building and through the front door. Amazingly, no one took notice of our entrance even with the security camera and the office's picture window.

After visiting Ms. Shank's room (my well-known sixth-period hideout), she told us to go to Mr. Novak's room so he could have a look at me. Being obliging, my little posse went back into the hall and barged right into Mr. Novak's yearbook class (they weren't talking about anything anyway).

It being a yearbook class and seeing how I was one of the few good Halloween pictures they would get, I had to get my picture taken. Mr. Novak's call for cameras brought various responses until one was found that still had a) film and b) a charge. My sword was drawn at Mr. Novak's request. I suppose I'm going to be in the yearbook.

With Mr. Novak's room conquered for the Imperium, the next logical stop on this Ultramarine's campaign was... the front office! Peace was made quickly with the head of state himself, Mr. Riehemann.

I found myself answering questions about my costume's construction. I humbly expounded upon the declassified parts. My picture was taken (again) by the school counselor. Mr. Riehemann is the tall one in white. I'm not sure who the man in the suit is.

Before continuing my circuit around the school, I maneuvered myself out of the office. Note how everyone is scattering to assist my attempts to wield my bulk without excessive collateral damage.

After leaving the office, I had to pose for some pictures by the journalism class. Seeing how treason is news, I guess I may be in the next school newspaper. My next stop was the attendance office in order to see Mr. Gillis, the Vice Principle (pictured later). I then returned to Ms. Shank's room to await my best friend, Anthony.

Ah, here he is now.

The Reactions

Ms. Shank, psychology teacher and certified saint. She was my higher-up connection in this little trickery and was kind enough to lend me her room as a hang-out.

I surprised this kid so much he forgot how to use the camera for a moment. Recovered well, though. The well-tanned fellow in plaid is Mr. Novak. Note how (most) everyone is looking at the out-of-frame me.

Mr. Engel (the one with the tie) and his journalism class. Most of the males we saw tryed to balance their amount of interest with looking cool. This group failed. This picture is my mom's personal favorite.

This is Mrs. Knasel, an English and History teacher. I know she looks unenthusiastic here, but she was smiling just a second before the picture was taken. Her jack-o-lantern earrings mirrored her disappointment that dress-up day was canceled. She was really quite impressed and even asked me to come into her classroom.

The reaction of the office aides is self-explanatory. In the immediate left foreground is Staff Sgt. Creech (his nametag is visible in the lower-left hand corner), the local Army recruiter. The look on his face was priceless... too bad we didn't get a picture of it.

Mr. Riehemann's reaction can be summed up in this excerpt from our coversation:
ME: "Hi Mr. Riehemann. I decided to flaunt the rules a little."
MR.R: "Yes, you did flaunt the rules... but I like it."
He's a really nice guy, and I understand his reasoning about removing distractions by removing dress-up day: The collective shuffles I heard as entire classes pivoted in their desks to get a glimpse of me through doorframes testified to his policy. I still don't agree with it, though.

The previously mentioned Mr. Gillis's reaction. I had talked with him the day before about my costume. "Remember the robot-lookin' thing I was talking about? Here it is." He took it about the same way that Mr. Riehemann did: quite well.

My best friend's initial reaction. I had waited all day for it. I finish with his grin for it sums up the general response to my costume: Cool.

Return (or go, as the case may be) to the Ultramarines page

	It was hard work to even get into the suit. Here I am elated by its completion.
Next came the bionic eye. Here, my squire affixes the implant using spirit gum.
	There we go. Perfect fit.
We then proceeded to enter the school. The rear doors were locked, so we went around the building and through the front door. Amazingly, no one took notice of our entrance even with the security camera and the office's picture window.
	After visiting Ms. Shank's room (my well-known sixth-period hideout), she told us to go to Mr. Novak's room so he could have a look at me. Being obliging, my little posse went back into the hall and barged right into Mr. Novak's yearbook class (they weren't talking about anything anyway).
It being a yearbook class and seeing how I was one of the few good Halloween pictures they would get, I had to get my picture taken. Mr. Novak's call for cameras brought various responses until one was found that still had a) film and b) a charge. My sword was drawn at Mr. Novak's request. I suppose I'm going to be in the yearbook.
	With Mr. Novak's room conquered for the Imperium, the next logical stop on this Ultramarine's campaign was... the front office! Peace was made quickly with the head of state himself, Mr. Riehemann.
I found myself answering questions about my costume's construction. I humbly expounded upon the declassified parts. My picture was taken (again) by the school counselor. Mr. Riehemann is the tall one in white. I'm not sure who the man in the suit is.
	Before continuing my circuit around the school, I maneuvered myself out of the office. Note how everyone is scattering to assist my attempts to wield my bulk without excessive collateral damage.
After leaving the office, I had to pose for some pictures by the journalism class. Seeing how treason is news, I guess I may be in the next school newspaper. My next stop was the attendance office in order to see Mr. Gillis, the Vice Principle (pictured later). I then returned to Ms. Shank's room to await my best friend, Anthony.
	Ah, here he is now.

Ms. Shank, psychology teacher and certified saint. She was my higher-up connection in this little trickery and was kind enough to lend me her room as a hang-out.
	I surprised this kid so much he forgot how to use the camera for a moment. Recovered well, though. The well-tanned fellow in plaid is Mr. Novak. Note how (most) everyone is looking at the out-of-frame me.
Mr. Engel (the one with the tie) and his journalism class. Most of the males we saw tryed to balance their amount of interest with looking cool. This group failed. This picture is my mom's personal favorite.
	This is Mrs. Knasel, an English and History teacher. I know she looks unenthusiastic here, but she was smiling just a second before the picture was taken. Her jack-o-lantern earrings mirrored her disappointment that dress-up day was canceled. She was really quite impressed and even asked me to come into her classroom.
The reaction of the office aides is self-explanatory. In the immediate left foreground is Staff Sgt. Creech (his nametag is visible in the lower-left hand corner), the local Army recruiter. The look on his face was priceless... too bad we didn't get a picture of it.
	Mr. Riehemann's reaction can be summed up in this excerpt from our coversation: ME: "Hi Mr. Riehemann. I decided to flaunt the rules a little." MR.R: "Yes, you did flaunt the rules... but I like it." He's a really nice guy, and I understand his reasoning about removing distractions by removing dress-up day: The collective shuffles I heard as entire classes pivoted in their desks to get a glimpse of me through doorframes testified to his policy. I still don't agree with it, though.
The previously mentioned Mr. Gillis's reaction. I had talked with him the day before about my costume. "Remember the robot-lookin' thing I was talking about? Here it is." He took it about the same way that Mr. Riehemann did: quite well.
	My best friend's initial reaction. I had waited all day for it. I finish with his grin for it sums up the general response to my costume: Cool.