Going to be a Bad Day

         It was going to be a very bad day. Ms. Carter knew that. It was going to be a very very bad day. Her students at the local high school were the worst she had ever seen. They wouldn't listen, they wouldn't do homework. They were rude. They were destructive. She had truly come to hate each and every one of them.

         This was her first teaching assignment, and she had been thrilled to come out here to take it on. She knew there might be some problems fitting in here. She was in the Northern Fringe of the Bible belt, and her religious beliefs definitely ran a different direction. Still, that wouldn't matter. She would go to the church every week, and follow her own beliefs in private. It wasn't something anyone had to know about.

         The first day, she was full of enthusiasm and joy at teaching. She had four classes to teach, totalling about 100 students. Of course, she didn't teach everyone in the school. It wasn't like she was in a small fishing village or anything, there were three other teachers in the English department.

         Ms. Carter quickly learned, however, that she had been assigned the worst classes in the school. Of course, the kids in general were enough to try the patience of a saint, and she was no saint. Bit by bit, her enthusiasm was chipped away. The job she had wanted so badly to love was becoming her personal Hell, which was ironic considering her religious leanings. The students tormented her every chance they got. Now, six months into the school year, she could finally admit she hated them.

         Standing in front of the first class, and worst class, of the day, she felt the loathing running through her body. Several members of The Team were in this class, and they could get away with just about anything they wanted to. The administration seemed to exist to placate the Coach, a neanderthal at the best of times. The members of The Team seemed to have some kind of diplomatic immunity.

         They didn't pick so much on the male teachers, but the women were put through their paces every day. Ms. Carter wasn't a classic beauty, so she was insulted to her face about her plain, mousy appearance. She was pushed in hallways and classrooms, and since The team averaged about six feet tall and were built like the walls of the building, her petite, slight frame was bounced off said walls and often to the floor. And that was just the begining...

         But, she couldn't dwell on this. She was prepared for a bad day, and it would come.

         "Good morning class. I thought I'd begin today's class with a poem." She brought out a large, leather bound book and placed it, almost reverently, on her desk. She opened its dry, yellowing pages and found the passage she was looking for.

         As she was searching she could hear the chatter. Many were complaining about having to listen to 'some old crap'. Of course, they would much prefer the lyrics to some rap song glorifying violence and sex. Others were talking about the upcoming game, or the long weekend, or their nightly conquests. It sickened Ms. Carter.

         But, once she found the passage she wanted, she read with gusto. The students were surprised at how her voice changed. It carried over the chatter and actually brought silence to the class. For a time, she was the only one speaking.

         "IA! IA! Menth'ktu'mkthe F'Tagh! Sne'thusrek! Sne'thusrek! Sne'thusrek! Veltina skrendo fn'akh! Nephtu'F'Tagh! IA! IA! IA!"

         The students looked stunned. Then Randy, without even raising his hand, the impudent bastard, called out, "Ms. Carter, that didn't make any sense. It must have been in Italian or something. Why'd you read that garbage anyway, this is supposed to be English class. I don't get it."

         A smile crossed Ms. Carter's face. "Oh, don't worry, Randy. You'll get it any time now."

         At that moment, the floor under Randy's desk exploded. A huge tendril shot out and impacted with the ceiling. What was left of Randy dripped out from beneath the vile member. The stench from the hole in the floor was like lavender and rose water mixed with raw sewage, and the mass of fleshy tissue that had erupted from it was the color of fresh vomit from a bullet to the gut.

         The classroom was in chaos. Students were running in all directions as more of the tendrils erupted from the floor. One student shattered a window and tried to climb out, but was dragged back in. From the amount of blood, he had been pulled over the broken glass.

         The Team vanished quickly, taken into the holes in the floor by the tentacles. Then they claimed the other students. Some got pulled down, but for others, the tendrils produced hideous mouths that allowed them to consume the students, as though they were snakes, and the children were mice.

         Soon it was over. Only the holes and the faint scent of lavender remained. And Ms. Carter of course. She glanced up at the clock. It seemed she would have time to get some coffee before she repeated the performance in front of a whole school assembly. This was just a test run. Fortunatly, those that wait below kept the scene quiet. No one would know what had happened. And of course, this evening there was the PTA meeting. She would probably be the only staff member in attendance.

         Yes, it was going to be a very bad day indeed. But not for Ms. Carter, or the ancient entities she truly worshipped.