School Fights

“They deserved what they got”.
I’d said this to them at least five times now, and even I was starting to get bored of it. It was to bad I couldn’t think up anything smarter to say. I suppose that I was never really one for coming up with smart remarks, but there was still time, I could learn.
We were in a dimly lit room. It was midday, but they had pulled the curtains shut a while ago when I had first arrived. Because it was a school, I had been given a hard wooden chair while everyone else was given a soft armchair.
Sitting opposite me on the other side of the desk was a lot of grumpy and tired faces. I was in the middle of a combination which no-one should try; teachers that are grumpy and tired.
The school bell sounded in the distance. They all left the room for lunch, leaving me in here to grow hot and thirsty. Why I didn’t buy a drink at break bewildered me.
I looked at them all as they went. Mr. Fenton went first, hobbling out on his crutch. Mr. Tomasevic was next. As the headmaster, it was always “sir”, but behind his bowling ball of a head it was commonly “your fly’s undone”. Next were the deputy head and his assistant, Mr. and Mrs. Whitely. Mrs. Whitely was only the assistant because she had a feeling that her husband was having an affair with the last assistant.
Next was the school nurse, who also acted as the child psychologist. I didn’t know her but she was a nice enough person.
The last person to leave was my form tutor, Dr. McDonald. She left with a slight look of disappointment on her face, she had always believed that I wouldn’t do this sort of thing, and before she closed the door she popped her round and said:
“They will call your parents, maybe even the police you know”.
There was only one thing to say to that:
“They deserved what they got”.