I Quit! - Lso Contest Entry

[Janus]

Story. I write it. Maybe comedy? I dunno, you decide.-JanusAttn: Principle Joanna WenfordCare of: Maple Oak Elementary School.Mrs. Wenford,I’m writing this letter to announce my resignation as the drama teacher for the Maple Oak Elementary school—effective immediately. I should hope that this would come as no surprise for you; I’m sure the rumors of the incident have already drifted your way. However, I felt it was my moral obligation to inform you exactly what happened.You’ll recall previous conversations we’ve had, in regards to allowing the fifth graders to run their own play at the end of the year. You may also recall my objections towards this, mainly based around the fact that they are, in fact, in the fifth grade, and therefore should not be acting by themselves, let alone designing sets. Yet you always insisted that it was encouraging creativity and it allowed the kids to enjoy themselves. Well, not to put the blame on you, ma’am, but no one enjoyed themselves last week.First of all, if you’ve heard of the content of the play, I’m fairly certain you must’ve raised eyebrow. In fact I can almost hear you now: “Wait, robots that live on a tropical island? And there are big robots and little robots? And giant robot animals?” Well, to put it as simply as possible: yes! Apparently this Byonacle thing is a LEGO property—though I’ve never heard about a LEGO property with its own comic book.Oh right, the comic book. Sorry, I got side-tracked. Nervous habit, specifically after last week. After I announced this year’s play, the room was instantly abuzz with excitement. Joel Simmons (you know him, shrimpy kid with the bad eye who constantly looks like he’s on the edge of a sneeze) ran up with a badly tattered comic book, stained with what appeared to be chocolate. In my defense, it looked much safer and more interesting than “Sleeping Beauty But They’re All Robot Sharks in Space”. Heck, it even seemed to be a step above that year they decided to hang themselves upside down and attempt to quote Shakespeare. I still recall little Susan Elan passing out in the middle of a poorly-enunciated passage of Measure for Measure; that poor girl. By the way, I’m still not sure how they got their hands on a copy of that particular play.Naturally, I was able to deem it appropriate. I mean heck, could you imagine a LEGO property that wasn’t? I mean I can’t imagine LEGO using things like big guns, or gangsters, or wanton destruction of property. So I left them to their devices, confident that this year would be the end to a string of seemingly horrific incidents on stage.From hereon I’ll be providing you with the layout, per usual since that one year half the kids ended up in neck braces and I was barraged with nasty letters from home. Also included are my thoughts on the actual “play” (put in quotations because I don’t think anyone would consider that art.)On the night of the play, we had all been seated in the auditorium and had our seats. All of the other teachers and their students were invited; in hindsight I would not be surprised if other teacher resignation letters are stacked below mine. The curtain opened and the crowd fell silent as Joel Simmons took the stage, and opened his mouth. He croaked.“T..he Le..le…le…leeeeegend of Mata…..N…ui.” then squeaked, turned white as a ghost, and promptly passed out on the stage. I’d say he was spared the further horrors, but unfortunately he recovered soon after.The curtains closed and re-opened revealing---oh my lord no. No. They did NOT just empty their own personal sandboxes onto my stage. I wish I could explain to you how unsanitary this was. In the middle of the sand pile there was a big cardboard box painted silver with a trashcan lid on top. I have to admit I was somewhat impressed at how impressively they had managed to convey the scene.Then I noticed the crabs.I don’t know who did it, or how they did it, or especially why they did it, but one of our brave enterprising young souls managed to get live crabs for this performance. Except instead of two like in the comic, it was probably about ten. And I’m not talking tiny beach crabs you find under the rocks. I’m sure these were nabbed live from the freshwater tanks at Wal-Mart.I was already preparing for the worst, but nothing could have prepared me for the small explosions that blew the box apart—and sent about three crabs hurtling into the audience. I do believe Mrs. Johnson got one right on the face. That poor woman just kept shrieking as she fled out the door.Little Sammy Po then took the stage, dressed all in white, with an adorable cardboard sword and shield held together with duct tape. He puffed out his chest and tried to deepen his voice as much as possible. Then he promptly tripped and went face-first into a crab. Another crab decided that it liked his legs. A lot.Total elapsed time: less than one minuteTotal number of crab-induced injuries: twoAt this point I was considering putting a stop to it, but then I realized: thus far, it was a large improvement upon last year’s play.You have no idea how wrong I was.Sammy stood up, the crab still stubbornly clinging to his leg, and screamed in the most high-pitched, girlish voice I have ever heard. I think I even heard Mr. Ladds, the choir teacher, whispering, “What a great soprano!”According to the comic I held in my hands, he was supposed to meet with another character, who I could only assume was to be played by Jenna Alger, who was standing idly by.What happened instead was Sammy ran screaming directly into Jenna and knocked both of them over the edge of the stage and into the audience—or more specifically, directly onto Mrs. Oleg’s lap. I think she had been napping up until that point. Lucky woman.Of course, the crab from Sammy’s leg decided to then climb up and pinch Mrs. Oleg’s nose. Total time elapsed: 2 minutesTotal number of crab-induced injuries: threeAfter the in-house paramedics (which, you’ll recall, are mandatory after last year’s debacle) had tended to Sammy and Jenna’s injuries, and both of them had returned to the stage it seemed like things would get better. I mean, sure, Sammy was staring blankly into the audience looking more petrified than I have ever seen any child look ever, and Jenna was texting someone on her cellphone—but hey, no more injuries!At this point I think the ‘consensus behind the curtain’ was to wrap this scene up and get on with it, so someone hissed at Sammy to speak his last line and get off stage. Sammy, bless him, tried to perform his deep voice again and came out sounding like Mickey Mouse with a head cold. With the words “I hate riddles”, the scene was ended and the curtains closed again.I took a moment to check the reactions, and the other teachers were surprisingly alert and awake. Now, whether or not this was because they were on the watch for any more crabs or children falling was anyone’s guess. But yeah, that’s probably why.As the curtain opened this time there was an odd buzzing sound. I guess these children really like live creatures, because like with the crabs (some of which were still skittering around on the sand—that was now covered in craft glue and blue and white glitter, you know, to resemble ice) they managed to round up some ACTUAL BEES to put inside their fake insect prop. Why? I have no idea.I do know, however, that Joel was probably not supposed to throw said prop. I also know that Jenna is allergic to bees, because that girl went into anaphylactic shock quickly. Thank goodness the paramedics hadn’t left yet!Jenna’s understudy came out from the back curtain, whimpering and trying to gingerly step over the crabs. Unfortunately they liked her even more than Sammy’s legs, and in a matter of seconds the little girl had become the crab queen. She managed to hold it together like a pro, though, she only screamed for … oh, I’d say, five minutes straight.Hobie Brown stepped onto the stage wearing the most hilariously oversized paper mache mask I have ever seen. In fact, it was so oversized that once he had got on the stage (and his helpers had left him) he promptly tipped over into the sand, sending the poor crabs into a tizzy and causing them to abandon the queen and seek out the comforting dark spaces under the audience’s chairs. We had about eight teachers and several more of their own students scream in unison; the harmony was pitch perfect. That is, until Mr Smithers’ kindergarten class decided it was high time to evacuate the auditorium.We also had about 20 more injuries.Total elapsed time: 7 minutesTotal crab-induced injuries: 23(+?)Total falling injuries: 4Total insect injuries: 1I was now ready to end the entire play when—well, the play ended itself. Sammy, playing the role of heroic Kopaka was supposed to set out and find a mask or something. Instead, everything fell apart. And I do mean everything.The little girl playing Pohatu ran, screeching, trying in vain to get away from a crab that had apparently managed to get into her hair. Thinking that this was their cue, the ‘effects’ team started dumping ‘paper’ rocks filled with sand and mud to emulate a rockslide. Sammy took one right on the noggin and dropped out like a light. Joel (still standing there for some reason) ran for cover and fell over Hobie, dropping on him so hard that Hobie’s mask flew off his face and sailed directly into Mrs. Oleg’s face. At this point I think she took another nap, this one wasn’t by choice.The other children also took this to be their cue and ran onto the stage dressed in different colours: red, green, blue, and black. And---wait. How did that child get hold of real fire?Honestly, at this point my memory gets kind of hazy. I remember screaming, lots of screaming. Also there may have been smoke—and have you ever seen a crab crawling up someone’s leg while on fire? I have. I don’t think I want that memory anymore.So to sum it all up:Total elapsed time: 10 minutesTotal crab injuries: 150+Total falling injuries: 6 (likely more)Total insect injuries: 1Total fire related damages: 5Total cost of repairs: $10,000 give or take.So, suffice it to say that this letter is my terms of…Y’know what? Forget it.I quit!

[Toa Smoke Monster]

I don't know what Joanna is complaining about. This is the best school play ever! :PBut anyway, I really enjoyed this. I like how you told it through the Principle's POV. I also like how you paused the story for a moment and told how much time had passed and how many injuries there were. And I wouldn't have guessed that those crabs would've caused so much trouble. :PI wish you good luck in the LSO 2012!

[fishers64]

Who knew Bionicle could be so dangerous? Anyway, I congradulate you on an excellent comedy here. The digression at the end of the comedy, however, is pretty weak, considering that you're writing a letter - it feels like you have stepped out of that. The story involved almost feels like the drama teacher is telling the story (in person)to the principal, except for the teacher's account of injuries and damages, so the last line would fit there. But if this was an actual resignation letter, which you have implied, I think it would naturally end on a formal note. But still, good comedy here, and I wish you luck on the contest.

[Janus]

Hey guys, thanks both of you (and the other 58 people who took a look at this topic) for reading and giving me some feedback, its always appreciated--especially because I just do not do comedy. Blergh

I don't know what Joanna is complaining about. This is the best school play ever! :PBut anyway, I really enjoyed this. I like how you told it through the Principle's POV. I also like how you paused the story for a moment and told how much time had passed and how many injuries there were. And I wouldn't have guessed that those crabs would've caused so much trouble. :PI wish you good luck in the LSO 2012!

Y'know, I tend to agree. That sounds like something that would go viral on the net within' seconds of being uploaded--however for a principle that would have to be a PR nightmare. Especially because she'd have to seem serious while trying not to crack up laughing.The total estimate thing was just something I thought of when I was writing, I was like "Huh, I bet you he'd keep track of the injuries so he could let the principle know just how horrible it was" and from there on it just exploded.

Who knew Bionicle could be so dangerous? Anyway, I congradulate you on an excellent comedy here.The digression at the end of the comedy, however, is pretty weak, considering that you're writing a letter - it feels like you have stepped out of that. The story involved almost feels like the drama teacher is telling the story (in person)to the principal, except for the teacher's account of injuries and damages, so the last line would fit there. But if this was an actual resignation letter, which you have implied, I think it would naturally end on a formal note.But still, good comedy here, and I wish you luck on the contest.

Anyone who's ever stepped on a sharp BIONICLE piece (Onua Claw, Gali Hook, Rahkshi spine, Bohrok foot) can tell you exactly how dangerous BIONICLE is. Or at least how much it hurts.However that is kind of the point, while I understand that it almost seems like it's better to have the drama teacher telling the principle in person (in fact that idea was something that came up in test reads) unfortunately it was too late to make the necessary changes and still enter the contest. Oh well, C'est la vie.But all the same, imagine trying to type all that out, imagine trying to be formal and disciplined and respectful while typing out pretty much the worst ever experience--after that much it's very possible for you to burn out. I think that's what happened to my poor drama teacher, he just burned out and decided to chance the consequences--it's not like she could fire him!Thanks for the luck, second place isn't half bad!-Janus