Boring is Sometimes Better...

              Class isn’t always boring. I discovered this one day while sitting in class with a blank stare and stale gum, think about my adventurous plots for the approaching afternoon. The teacher had finally taken a seat after one of the longest, most excruciatingly detailed lectures I had ever heard and my classmates were hard at work, busy concentrating on a bland, boring worksheet over the bland, boring lesson we had just suffered through.
         
            I leaned my chair back and yawned. Would this class ever be over? I was so bored I had already counted all of the books on the shelves and all of the gray hairs on Ms. McDuke’s head. Surprisingly, the numbers were around the same. Ms. McDuke must have had a lot of terrible kids for a woman of only forty-five.
         
            Languidly, I stretched and decided to get up. It was time for a change of scenery and the excuse of needing to go to the bathroom was sure to work. My footsteps echoed throughout the crypt-like, silent room as I approached Ms. McDuke and everyone looked up, their dreary eyes tracking my sudden departure from my desk.
         
            Suddenly, even as I was watching her, Ms. McDuke exploded into a gigantic fireball. I mean, she was just sitting there, grading our second rate papers when BAM! she spontaneously combusted.
         
            Needless to say, the class was extremely freaked out. Everyone stared at the spot where our teacher had just been and sat in thunderstruck silence. As for myself, I stood completely immobile and quiet, just halfway to her still smoldering desk. Ash was everywhere and a small fire still burned in the now decimated chair. The computer was completely fried and the filing cabinet was toppled over, revealing tests and quizzes that at any normal time, most of would have jumped at the chance to copy.
         
              As it was, everyone remained perfectly still, except for one brave kid near the front. He stood up suddenly; a look of shock still branded across his face, and said, “What the hell just hap-” Before he even finished his sentence, KABOOM! he was just another pile of ash on the floor.
         
            I held back a yell and remained as still as possible, hardly daring to even move my eyes. It seemed that somehow, the explosions would spread if you moved. The room was abnormally quiet as everyone struggled to completely cease all movement and noise. For all we knew, the slightest sound could trigger some unknown force to reduce us to flaming goop. Ordinarily, that would be cool, but I was kind of defensive of my own body and decided that being a pile of goop was not good for my continued welfare.
         
            As I was thinking about how to get out of this predicament, I noticed the chubby boy in the front trying to hold back a sneeze. There was sweat dripping down his round, rosy cheeks and his pudgy face was scrunched in agonizing concentration. Sadly, his nose won out and he unleashed a gigantic sneeze. A second later, an even bigger noise followed as he exploded into a trillion little pieces and flew everywhere.
         
            I was beginning to feel just a bit scared now. We couldn’t just sit here forever, perfectly still and quiet. And even if we could, life would be terribly, unbearingly boring. I could only take so much of staring at the overly feminine portrait of flowers above Ms. McDuke’s desk remains.
         
              I sat and stewed for a while more, quietly contemplating any routes of escape that I could possibly imagine. Nothing came to mind. I would have sighed in frustration if not for the small matter of being blown to oblivion.
         
              Finally, only one was choice was available. I certainly wasn’t going to stay in here forever. I preferred whatever would come in death to looking at pink, frilly flowers for all eternity. My mind made up, I decided to make a dash for it. I mean, it was possible I might even make it.
         
              Hesitantly, I took the tiniest step forward. Everyone in the room widened their eyes till they almost popped out of their heads as they awaited the incoming explosion. But nothing happened. I realized that I was holding my breath and then quietly let it go. My resolve hardened, I dashed towards the door, sure that this exploding epidemic had somehow skipped me.
         
                Of course something had to go wrong. My shoelace got caught on the leg of a chair and I fell in a tumbling heap, skidding to a stop only inches from the door. My entire body ached and my knee throbbed where it had crashed into the floor. I ignored the pain and crawled forward in a panic, trying to reach the doorknob and escape the explosion I knew was coming, when BAM! I exploded into a gazillion pieces!!!

***

         I awoke with a start. My head throbbed and I shook it clear, struggling to regain my bearings. Finally, I realized I was in Chem. Lab with Mr. Gerloff and had fallen asleep right next to my experiment. A green liquid popped and exploded in a test tube being heated by a Bunsen burner and I laughed, realizing where my abnormal dream had come from. I had heard the popping in my sleep and my overactive, sleep-induced brain had filled in the rest. Relieved, I laughed again. I wasn’t going to randomly explode after all! Still chuckling, I looked at my experimental chart and then turned up the heat under my test tube.
         
                Suddenly, I heard an explosion behind me. I swiveled my chair around as fast as possible, hoping it was just an experiment gone wrong. Sadly, I was mistaken. The only thing that remained in Mr. Gerloff’s smoldering chair was ash and scorch marks. I just immediately ran for the door. Maybe this time I could beat the incoming explosion….