THE REAL DEMON HEADMASTER
© Katy Coxall
[BURT GRIMES, AGED 12, ENTERS WEARING SCHOOL UNIFORM. HIS TIE IS NON REGULATION (SHORT WITH A WIDE, FAT KNOT), HE DOESN’T SPEAK AND SEEMS UNCERTAIN OF WHAT IS IN FRONT OF HIM. (UNBEKNOWN TO THE AUDIENCE BURT IS DREAMING)
BURT GRIMES: "There was something different about our Headmaster, Mr. Paget. Morning assembly at Bechams Park School just didn’t feel the same.
Normally I’d sit in assembly bored and hungry, waiting for it to finish before I rammed my gob full of gob stoppers, crisp sticks and Haribo Sour Mix all swilled down with a bottle of Sunny D, on the way to my first lesson of the day. But I felt strange this morning. Food was the last thing on my mind. In fact, I wern ‘ungry!
I wasn’t bored either. Actually, my heart pounded. Me, Burt Grimes, was panicking! I’d never been so scared in all my life. What was goin’ on?
Like I said, Mr. Paget looked different. What was it? How I missed it I’ll never know. Instead of his neatly parted, thinning but sensible, collar length haircut, he was sporting a big hair-do, and I mean big! It must of measured four foot across!
But nobody mentioned it. Even me, Burt Grimes, one of the naughtiest boys at Bechams Park School, knew it was better to keep my gob shut! Surely Laughing Larry, the naughtiest boy in the whole school, would say something. I waited, but he didn’t. [BEAT] Silence. [BEAT] If someone had dropped a pin it would have sounded like a bomb going off!
Perhaps Laughing Larry had turned over a new leaf. That would explain it. Laughing Larry had decided to knuckle down, behave and get educated. He’d never shown any interest in getting a good job before. He’d never aspired to great wealth, exotic holidays, top of the range cars and living the good life. Like all the gang Laughing Larry was content coching in shop doorways or playing on his computer. Success to Laughing Larry was going a day without having a letter sent home, not being fluent in French or being able to spell words like environment, necessary and simile.
It was a relief when I realised that Laughing Larry wasn’t in Morning Assembly. True to form he was late or wagging it.
I could picture Laughing Larry when he earned his “naughtiest boy in the school” reputation. As I remembered I smiled to myself. I wish I hadn’t. Mr. Paget was staring at me.
“What are you smiling about boy?” he roared. “Does my hair amuse you?” Eyes glaring he hissed, “You need to be taught a lesson in good manners”.
“Not another detention” I thought.
As it turned out I’d have preferred a detention to the punishment Mr. Paget was about to award. In fact I’d have preferred a detention every day of my life or even eating someone else’s snot, to what happened next. Mr. Paget, who was now dressed in full military uniform, produced an automatic riffle. I’m not kidding, when I say, it was the size of the Eiffel Tower! As I gazed down the barrel, the size of Queensway Tunnel, various episodes of my short life (I was only twelve) flashed before my eyes. Mr. Paget loaded his riffle and fixed his aim on me.
I said “I’m sorry” but I really meant it this time.
“You will be, Boy”, he replied.
Then he began to squeeze the trigger. This is it I thought, the end and all because I’d smiled. It wern’ fair!
With the gun pointed at me and his finger holding the trigger Mr. Paget took the opportunity of addressing the assembly. He had their complete attention.
“It is my duty to show you children that life is not fair. For this reason, I am now going to shoot this boy. Hands up all of you who think that this will be a good lesson in life”.
Surely nobody would raise their hand. I’d be saved! Then I realised that my right hand and that of everyone else in Morning Assembly had been bound with rope. One end of the rope tied around our wrists, the other attached to numerous pulleys on the Hall ceiling. When Mr. Paget pressed a button on his deck (he was now standing on what looked like the deck of the Starship Enterprise) everybody’s hand, including mine, was winched up. My fate was sealed. The vote was rigged. The show of hands had unanimously decided that I would be shot.
Mr. Paget began to pull the trigger. I prayed for him to stop what he was doing. “I’ll be good. Please don’t shoot me”, I pleaded.
Too late! He fired! But just before the bullet left its barrel he pointed it up to the roof. The bullet, the size of the Orient Express, rushed from the barrel, hurtled upwards into the ceiling. I was saved! Not for long -
You had to admire Mr. Paget’s aim; better than David Beckham’s. It wasn’t an accident when the bullet ricocheted on an iron ceiling support and was redirected coming to rest, with a shattering crash, dead centre in the empty chair next to mine. “That’s where Laughing Larry should have been sat”, I thought.
The look on my jaw dropped, paled face tickled Mr. Paget who started to boom with laughter, then cackle like a real demon. There and then, as he laughed at me, I decided I’d never be naughty again. I’d been given a second chance and I was going to take it. I’d work hard, follow all the school rules and stay out of trouble. I’d stay away from troublemakers like Laughing Larry. It wouldn’t be too bad, not when I got my villa in Spain, the private pool, Ferrari and my own personal amusement arcade.
When Mr. Paget eventually stopped laughing we stayed quiet. It was a hot summer’s day and the only sound was that of birds twittering in a trees outside. The only sound that was until we heard the laughter of late Laughing Larry!
As usual Laughing Larry was laughing. Why should he stop laughing? He didn’t know about the changes Mr. Paget had undergone. As far as Laughing Larry was concerned today was just another day and as usual everything was making him laugh. He thought it was funny being late for Assembly. The thought of interrupting the Assembly’s proceedings and wasting time made him split his sides with laughter. He was laughing so much that tears streamed down his face.
The fact that we all sat quietly, hardly daring to breathe, as he stumbled, laughing into Assembly sent Laughing Larry into hysterical guffawing laughter. Normally we’d have joined him, he had an infectious laugh, but not today.
“Sil________________ence” roared Mr. Paget, but Laughing Larry spotted the headmaster’s new big hair and, being Laughing Larry, was unable to control himself. I noticed that Mr. Paget’s eyes glinted with sparkling redness. What would the real demon headmaster do to punish Laughing Larry? I found out.
All of a sudden Laughing Larry, dressed only in his Vessacci underpants and not laughing anymore, stood infront of us. The hall’s black out curtains had been drawn and Laughing Larry stood centre stage, illuminated by a bright spot light. He wore an embarrassed look and two pairs of Marks & Spencer’s girl’s flowery knickers. One pair had replaced his designers and the other was on his head, hat like. He looked so embarrassed.
[DIRECTED AT ANYONE LAUGHING]
You would too!
“Now you can make us laugh boy”, growled Mr. Paget. Laughing Larry was forced to dance [BEAT] ballet.
[BURT MIMICS LAUGHING LARRY’S DANCE AND SAYING]
He didn’t have a choice. Mr. Paget was wielding a three metre razor embellished stick, and made to swipe Laughing Larry if he disobeyed.
At first we watched him dance in silence. He danced, we were told by Mr. Paget, "in the manner of the Sugar Plum Fairy". But the best bit, we all agreed, was his Dying Swan.
When Mr. Paget ordered us to laugh at Laughing Larry, we did what we were told. It wasn't difficult. Laughing Larry’s ballet was the funniest thing we’d ever seen!
The dance finished, Mr. Paget presented Larry with a new, special, school uniform and a bunch of flowers. He had the same shirt, tie and blazer but now wore a classic ballet skirt or tutu and a pair of pointy ballet shoes. It didn’t suit him.
Realising that Larry would never laugh again and we were all very sad.
On the bright side, Morning Assembly was drawing to a close. We were going to survive it and live to tell the tale. Nothing could go wrong; nothing could stop us now! As long as we didn’t misbehave, we all knew, we’d be safe. All of us, that was, but for the new girl in year 7. Why she did what she did I’ll never know. She produced a paper plane, (an origami Concorde, no less), and launched it.
Unseen by Mr. Paget, Concorde, glided through the air. We didn’t laugh. A stream of blue smoke trailed behind it. We didn’t laugh. Mr. Paget didn’t see it even when it landed entangled in his new curly big hair, [BEAT] we still didn’t laugh. But when a spectacular firework, Concorde’s cargo, detonated on Mr. Paget’s head, we laughed. Mr. Paget’s big hair was flattened. It was now eight feet across! We roared with laughter!
“Si__________lence, who did this?” erupted Mr. Paget. We would have liked to protect the new girl but our new found sense of self-preservation forced us, one and all, to point her out.
[POINTING]
“It was her,” we grassed.
The new girl was crying pitifully. Tears streamed down her face. She called out for her “Mommy” but nothing could save her now. When I looked up she stood sobbing on a scaffold, rope around her neck. Mr. Paget grasped the lever that would remove the floor from beneath her. The new girl would be hanged! We were powerless; there was nothing we could do. Good-bye new girl.
It was then that Laughing Larry elbowed me in my side. He wasn’t holding his bouquet or wearing his ballet dress. Instead he wore his usual school uniform. Laughing Larry was laughing. Mr. Paget was sporting his usual neatly parted, thinning, and sensible collar length haircut. There was no new girl about to be executed. Surprise, surprise, I was hungry and in a typical Morning Assembly at Bechams Park School!
[BURT STARTS TO RETIE HIS TIE IN THE REGULATION MANNER]
It took a little time before I realised that Laughing Larry had woken me from the worst nightmare I’d ever had.
concludes below:
I haven’t been the same since though. I’ve stopped being naughty and I’m doing my work. I don’t eat junk food either; I think it was sending me mad! Becham Park School’s not so bad, the Headmaster could be a lot worse. And I’ve got this picture in my head of my villa in Spain with the Ferrari parked out front. My private pool overlooks the Atlantic Ocean and I’m floating on it, sunbathing, sipping an additive free cold drink . . .
[BURT FINISHES TIEING HIS TIE, SMILES AND EXITS] THE END  The Real Demon Headmaster - has a rage! | |