My History Teacher Is Scrooge

         An evil cackle echoed through the hallways as a tall, 24-year-old man with brown hair and a goatee sauntered through the school. In his hand, he held his daily dose of caffeine in the form of muddish looking coffee. The clear plastic cup had been dyed brown from the intensity of the liquid. As usual, the man wore slacks, a shirt, and an outrageous tie. He grinned insanely as he passed the forest-green lockers and two of his students.
          “I hope you’re ready for the most humiliating exam you’ve ever had!” he snapped joyfully. He stalked into his room. “Hurry up, Ms. Harrison, Ms. Gray! If I have to start class with out you, well…” His head popped out from around the corner again, “woe to you!” His head slipped around the corner and back into his class.
          “That imbecile! We’ve still got three minutes!” Taryn Gray’s bright silver-blue eyes flashed angrily after the cocky teacher as she ranted about how unfair he was.
          “Yeah, but d’ya really think it matters to Moss?” Sarah Harrison replied
          Yes, his name was Stephen Moss, the eighth grade history teacher. He took great pleasure in working his students to the bone memorizing useless dates and names of long-dead people. All men, as feminist Taryn pointed out. Today was the day for the exam that his first group of victims would face. He had intentionally rubbed it in that they were doomed to be stuck in his class for an hour more than normal.
         Stephen Moss grinned evilly as he kicked his feet up on his desk, leaning back in the chair he had swiped from the teacher’s lounge. He suddenly sat straight back up again as three students entered. One was short and obviously Cuban, holding in her small hands a wrapped box. Leave it to Adriana Adame to be kind in a time he hated most. Another was British, in her normal distinctive blue jacket. Judith Hibbin was laughing slightly, but the sound was drowned out from the black haired girl on the other side of Adriana. Mouna Bentria doubled over laughing, bumping into Adriana, and making wisecracks about pulling newts out of her ass.
          Adriana smiled sweetly and said, “Merry Christmas, Mr. Moss!” as she held out the box.
Moss growled, grabbed the box and slammed it down on the desk. “How many times must I tell you, Ms. Adame, I DO NOT care about Christmas!”
          Adriana’s eyes went wide and she looked offended. Judith cut in calmly, restraining irritation, “well, then, Happy Hanukkah, Mr. Moss.”
          “Happy Kwanza!” yelled Mouna, dark eyes filled with laughter, a smile spread from ear to ear. With every growing second, she was getting happier and happier… and Moss was getting angrier and angrier.
          Looking between the two, Judith frowned, “it’s that theory again.”
          “Please, Mr. Moss!” Adriana pleaded, “Please just say Merry Christmas and open it! It’s from all of us… and Taryn and Sarah.”
          Moss exploded, shooting out of his chair like a rocket, “I DON’T GIVE A CARE ABOUT CHRISTMAS! You can shove this little… box! Up your rectum!”
          There came a bang from behind them. Taryn had slammed her books down on a desk. Sarah shook her head, putting her books down on the next desk over, between Adriana and Taryn. The two newcomers stepped forward.
          “Happy Yule, Mr. Moss,” Taryn said with feigned kindness.
          “GO TO YOUR SEATS IN YOUR RESPECTIVE CLASSES AND SIT DOWN!” Screamed Mr. Moss. He slammed his coffee mug on his desk. “I’VE HAD QUITE ENOUGH OF YOU LOT! NOW GO! TO!! CLASS!!!”
With finality, he sat back down and turned to his computer.
          Mouna, still laughing maniacally, slipped through the retractable wall towards Language class. Judith, frowning, went out the door to her Geometry class. Taryn and Sarah escorted Adriana to her seat as the rest of the class showed up.
          “Mr. Moss! Turn off the heater!”
          “Yeah, It’s too hot!”
          “Merry Christmas, Mr. Moss!”
          Without turning, Moss snapped, “Sit down and shut up!”
          In the very back, as usual, Taryn, Adriana and Sarah passed a dot-game back and forth, attempting to keep from passing out in boredom. Suddenly, Mr. Moss was there in between Taryn and Sarah, mid-pass. His hand reached out like a shot and he crumpled the paper up and tossed it over his shoulder. It flew across the room, making a perfect basket into a tin can labeled “Trash Receptacle”.
          “WHAT have I told you two about passing stories in class?!” two GIANT packets landed on their desks. “Get to work, if you even heard the instructions! Mwahahahahahaha!” He spun away from them. Taryn and Sarah exchanged glances, Taryn making the sign for a pencil, Sarah tossing her one.
          As the pencil flew through the air, of all times, Moss spun around again. “By the way, Ms. Harrison, I’m sorry about your father.”
          Raising an eyebrow over brown eyes tinged with gray, she asked, “What? Is there something I don’t know about?”
          “I meant George Harrison, Newbie. Now shut up, quit disturbing the class and take your final!” He barked a laugh, then plopped back into his chair.
          “Damn you!” Sarah muttered, giving him the one finger salute as he turned around, before returning to her exam.
                              * * *
          “Hope you failed, Hope you failed, hope you failed,” Moss said happily as he shook each student’s hand as they walked out the door. Adriana glared disappointedly at the teacher, then slid passed.
          Taryn snarled as Moss extended his hand. “I wish you a MERRY CHRISTMAS, SCROOGE!” She snapped as she pushed past.
          Sarah followed behind. “Evil man… and you wonder why you don’t have a girl friend… look at your holiday spirit” escaped her lips as she ducked under the hand.
          Moss stared after the trio. With nothing better to say, he called after them, “BAH! HUMBUG!! ENJOY YOUR HOMEWORK!! THERE’S PLENTY OF IT, TOO!!”
          He spent many hours tidying the room, ripping down the Christmas cartoons drawn by the students. He tore apart a parody of the Twelve Days of Christmas about him. As the pieces fluttered into the trash can, he thought he saw something written on it…
          DOOM IS COMING.
          “Bah, Humbug!” Moss shook his head at the pieces and flipped off the lights. He closed the door gently behind him, and yet it still slammed. “Stupid door!” He snapped. “Stupid lockers!” He ranted, seeing red and gold stripes of ribbon hanging from each one. “Stupid Doors! STUPID HALLWAYS!!” He yelled at the deserted corridor. Only silence answered him.
          It was days later; Winter Break was well under way, that he sat in front of the TV, a cup of Ramen noodles steaming in his hands. Now, mind you, there was nothing special about this TV. It was your normal TV; Panasonic with a remote control, buttons on the front… well, you know what a TV looks like, and so did Moss
Therefore, when the screen went black and the lights all dimmed, Moss thought it was just a power-outage. That lasted a whopping sixty seconds.
          The TV started to glow with what appeared to be static… but the ball of static grew larger and larger still. The static took the shape of a man.
          “Paul?” Moss asked, standing, looking at the static creature. “Paul Ziegenbein?” It did indeed appear to be the math teacher next door to him at the school. “But, aren’t you supposed to be skiing with the wife and kids in Colorado?”
          “So what if I am, Mr. Moss?” the apparition retorted. “Actually, I hit my head against a tree. I’m in a coma.”
          “I wish I was…” Moss muttered.
          “Shut up, Moss. I’m here to warn you about your evil ways. You gave homework on Christmas! Even I don’t sink that low. Give the kids a break, now if ever. And give yourself a break, Moss. You need the gaiety.”
          “Be careful with that word, these days, Paul.” Moss commented snidely with a grin.
          Ignoring him, the specter continued. “You will be visited by the three ghosts of School Holidays, past, present and future. The first will come to you at one in the Morn. The second at two, and the final one at three. Be prepared to face each of them in-”
Moss shrugged, interrupting, “Go back to your hospital bed, Paul… See if I care.”
          “Fine then… Scrooge.” Ziegenbein retorted crossly. Then the apparition was gone.
          “Bah! That old kook has been teaching math too long! HUMBUG, PAUL!”
          With that, he went back to his Ramen noodles.
                              * * *
          As the clock hit one, a bright light filled Moss’s room. He tossed in his sleep, and opened his eyes as he felt a hand on his shoulder.
There, shrouded in glowing silver light, was Terry Hodges. Her white hair blended into her long white gown of satin. “Wake up, Stephen. You have a long morning yet.”
          “Lady, you have got some serious issues sneaking in here at this hour! Now, go away, Hodges, I’m in no mood for this.” Moss yanked his covers back over his head.
          Hodges frowned… and Moss opened his eyes, looking down.
          “SHIEST!” He was hovering about three feet above his bed. “Look, I swear, I’ll have the kids write more essays... I’ll ease up on ‘em. JUST PLEASE PUT ME DOWN AND LET ME SLEEP!!”
He dropped back into his mattress. As he sat up and looked around to thank Hodges, he realized there was nothing left. “Good! Humbug to you, Hodges!”
          He lay back down, and scarce had his head hit the pillow that the clock struck two.
He sat straight up. A glowing green light appeared in the window. “LOOK! I said it before, and I’ll say it again… SCREW YOU, DAMN GHOSTS!”
          Standing there, all in green, was a young, blonde haired boy. “Hi, Mister Moose!” he exclaimed amiably. James Brickell, surrounded in green light, picked up Mr. Moss’s new coffee mug, plain white, with red letters reading; COFFEE: Hot water with an attitude. “Hey… So you DID open it! The gals gave this to you, right?”
          “Larry, Get the HELL out of my apartment! You’re the last person I wanna see!”
          “Well, that’s tough” said Larry. “You see, I already plan on taking you to see some of your students. I really don’t care whether you like it-“ A green light suddenly enfolded Moss as well, and suddenly, he was hovering above the city, “or not.”
          “How the hell did you become a gho- OH HELL! Larry! Return me to my apartment, or I’ll suspend you!”
          Larry just pointed, and before Moss was Adriana, staring at a Christmas tree, lit with lights and several ornaments. Beside her, sat her younger twin brothers, and her other brother. The smell of spice and turkey made Moss’s mouth water with the idea alone of what food accompanied the aromas.
          “Dad! Mom! Come on! Please? Just one?” Pleaded one of the twins, a large box before him wrapped in bright gold paper, a red bow tied onto one corner. Adriana’s laughter echoed as the scene shifted…
          To a solemn, even grumpy looking Taryn in a church.
          “She’s stuck at a church in Waco, far away from her mother and step-father for this Christmas. She’s stuck with her brother and her father… So, needless to say, she isn’t in the best of moods. Then again, I know of someone who is…”
          The scene again shifted, showing Judith meditating, eyes closed, a smile spread across her face.
          “She doesn’t need Christmas to be happy… she just needs some peace and quiet.” A large dog crept up to her, sticking his nose into her face. Judith laughed and opened her eyes, hugging the dog contentedly. “Okay, and maybe companionship.”
          Again, the scene moved. Moss stared stonily on. He raised an eyebrow as the new picture focused. “What does this have to do with Christmas?”
          Sarah sat, typing happily. Probably one of those odd stories she wrote. Somehow, the sound of a guitar and a fiddle peeled through the air as well as the sound of keys typing. Bouncing behind her were her brothers, or was that the same boy moving double-time? She turned as if to face Moss, still smiling. She stood and hugged a tall, black haired man in a bomber jacket as he ran into the picture. “Greg!” was all he heard as the scene froze.
          “Her uncle finally made it back… But, the future is always changing…” The black haired man vanished, and in his place was…nothing but an air of sadness, of emptiness. “War brings many changes… whether a person wants to admit it or not…”
          The scene whirled… Mouna's image replace Sarah's...“even in peaceful areas.”
          Mouna was glaring at the phone, before she put it back to her ear. “Yes, Bin Laden is Islamic, but does that make all Islams bad? He’s an evil person! Hitler was Christian; does that make Christians any more evil than Jews? Or Wiccans? Or anybody else for that matter?” There was a long pause, and then Mouna exploded. “Fine! Be that way! You’re certainly entitle to be a monkey-assed idiot!” She slammed the phone down and swore.
          Moss turned with a wise comment to spew at Larry, but, instead, saw a tall, black-robed figure. “Oh…hi…”
          The figure wasted no time… it pointed directly to a…
          Desk.
          It was the same desk that he had at the school. Except…
          Fred the Computer’s hat was missing!!
          “Who took my computer’s hat? Poor Fred is bald now!”
          A growl escaped the black robe. Moss turned to glare directly at its glowing red eyes. “Oh, screw you! Where’s Fred’s hat?”
          The ghost shook its head, with a snap and a pop… The head fell off, and the hood fell back. The skull-like head rolled around to face Moss. In a high, funny sounding voice, it commented, “Well, Fuck you, too. I really didn’t ask for this job, you know! I’d much rather sit sipping Ramen Noodles and think about all the homework I gave my students. But, I guess YOU’D know how that works, wouldn’t you, Stephen?”
          Moss Screamed…
          And woke up screaming. He slapped the alarm off the table. Hearing the noise, he stopped screaming, and sat straight up.
          “I…I’m alive? I’m Alive!” he yelled, shooting to his feet, grinning from ear to ear. He pulled on his robe and went out to the front door to get the morning paper.
          As he yanked the door open, there were Larry, Sarah, Mouna, Taryn, Adriana and Judith, singing Christmas Carols. Moss leaned down, smiling sweetly, and picked up his newspaper.
          The carolers smiled back at him.
          He hurled the newspaper at them all. “WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU KIDS ABOUT CHRISTMAS! GO AWAY! SHOO!!!”
          He stalked over, yanked up his paper, stalked back into his warm apartment and slammed the door.
          The carolers looked at each other… Then began to sing loudly to the tune of “We Wish You A Merry Christmas”
          “We wish you weren’t our teacher, we wish you weren’t our teacher, we wish you weren’t our teacher…”
          The door jerked open again, Moss looking livid, blood lust in his eyes as the carolers finished.
          “YOU’RE SUCH A JERK!” They turned and ran off.
          “BAH!” yelled Moss after them, "HUMBUG!"