Horror+Story+-+Mr.+D.

Ms. Bluebird’s Nails

By Mr. DeVirgilis

"Albert, I believe I just saw you cheat," Ms. Bluebird accused.

"But--" I attempted to explain to Burbank High’s tall, dark-eyed teacher. "Can't we just check our answers with someone else?"

"Don't talk back to me, young man. Everyone who talks back, you should know by now, ends up in my room for detention, which is where I will see you at 3:00."

"Flippin' great," I muttered to myself.

Getting to Ms. Bluebird's class on time for detention was impossible as Mr. Walrussian made me do laps after class for not following directions. His coffee and cigarette-scented breath reminded me after, "If you don't shape up, you're crusin' for a bruisin'!"

I finally made it into Ms. Bluebird's class, ready to explain my lateness to her and the others in detention, but as I peered into the dark classroom, I was surprised to find it utterly empty. Just as I turned around to leave - free - I felt a presence behind me. Killer timing I must have.

"Let's have a seat, Albert, and decide how we will spend the next hour," Ms. Bluebird said while she closed (and locked?) the classroom door behind her.

Maybe it was the way she said, "…//how// we will spend the next hour," but a cold shiver ran down my spine.

"//N////ot// doing homework, no, that you can just do at home. Ohhhhhh," she sighed, "I have a wonderful idea!" Pulling out a nail file, she smiled and began slowly sawing the sandpaper-encrusted implement across her long red nails. Questions flooded my mind. Reasonable people do not spend this much time or energy filing their nails, do they?

Shhhht, shhht, she continued sawing, and I tried to swallow down a lump in my throat as I stared at the growing pile of fingernail shavings on her desk.

"Tell me, Albert, why do you continue that rude, immature behavior of biting your nails?" Until her question, I hadn't realized that I had been nervously gnawing on my fingers. "Very well, Albert, I have decided what you will do to atone for the sin of cheating," Ms. Bluebird said in a sly tone.

"Wh-wh-what?" I muttered with small tears now forming in the corner of my eyes.

"E**x**actly what I have been waiting to have you do since I saw your ugly mug enter my classroom in August," she spewed and proceeded to open a desk drawer. "You will eat and swallow all these nails by four o'clock," and I saw sizable pile of red and white nail clippings.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzoooom, I bolted out of her room, after a nauseating hour, choking and gagging on Ms. Bluebird's powdery nails, swearing never to cheat again.