Bobby and the Hall Monsters
Bobby slunk down behind his mathbook and silently begged, "Please Mrs. Jenkins, please don't call on me." But her radar locked right on him.
"Robert," her words dripped down into his belly like melting icicles, "what is eight times twelve?"
He glanced around for inspiration, but even Elaine Phillips had a relieved look on her face. If the computer of the west didn't know the answer, how could he?
"94?" he finally guessed.
Mrs. Jenkins' lips started to pinch. He was doomed.
"Robert, please go study in the hall, and don't come back until you finally know your 12's!"
"Please Mrs. Jenkins, you don't know what's out there!"
"Robert, not those wild lies again!"
"But its true, there are monsters out there!"
"If you spent half the time on your times tables that you do on your imagination, you'd be teaching math, not I!" she said and marched him to the hall.
Bobby sagged down the wall and sunk his head in his hands.
When the door opened again a few minutes later, he looked up with relief. But it was only creepy Elaine Phillips. She tossed him his mathbook and with a swish of her braids returned to class.
Bobby shuddered because the book's broken spine made him think of what the monsters would do if they caught him studying math in their hall.
He began whispering to himself, "One times twelve is twelve. Two times twelve is twenty-four. Three times twelve is..."
"Well, well, well! It's my little buddy!"
Bobby's heart dropped like a brick to his sneakers.
"Boscoe!" he gasped.
Boscoe put his large paws on his knees and bent his horrible furry face right down to Bobby's. His eyes looked just like spinning yellow saucers.
"And just what are you up to in our hall, hmmm?"
"Nothing Boscoe," Bobby frantically tried to sit on his mathbook. "I just thought I'd come out here for a... for a little rest."
Boscoe snatched the mathbook. "then this must be your pillow!"
"Don't get mad Boscoe. I wasn't even going to open it, really!"
Boscoe pressed his paws against the wall on either side of Bobby's head, and his yellow eyes slit down to razors.
"Oh I believe you, Bobby old buddy. Even a blockhead like you wouldn't be so stupid as to study math in our hall!"
As he spoke, a tall, skinny monster with bright green fur and a red bandanna round his neck came up and slapped Boscoe heartily on the back.
"Hiya Boscoe! What kind of fish have you caught there?"
"Nothing much Snake, just a little shrimp!"
Both monsters threw back their shaggy heads and roared with laughter. Their orange teeth looked just like daggers.
Pretending to cower down the wall, Bobby dove under Boscoe's arm and shot out for the classroom door.
But Snake plucked Bobby up as easily as if he were a kitten and covered his mouth with his paw.
"Hey Boscoe, head on down the hall for a long bomb."
"Gotcha Snake!" Boscoe ran down to the corner.
"Ready?"
"Go for it!" Boscoe yelled.
"Nooooooo!" Bobby cried as he flapped through the air like a crazy windmill.
Boscoe caught him with one paw, then doing a fake ballet, passed him back to Snake.
"Ouch!" cried Snake dropping Bobby, "The little rat bit me!"
Boscoe came running up the hall for a tackle. Bobby dodged and dove under his legs.
"Cheese it!" Snake cried as Mrs. Jenkins poked her nose around the door.
"What in heaven's name is going on out here?"
"Oh Mrs. Jenkins, I'm so glad to see you!" Bobby turned to show her the monsters who had just used him for a football, but they were gone.
"Really Robert? I find that doubtful considering the amount of work you've accomplished." She pointed towards the mathbook still laying broken on the floor.
He sighed. Without proof she wouldn't believe him. Nobody would.