Chapter #3Getting Pounded by: Rita   "Come back to the school, Peter Connors," Read the text from an unlisted number. Pete, not about to take orders from strangers, sent a quick text back, "Um no. Who is this and How did you get my number?"
"This is your Principal. I got your phone number through an internet search. I'm texting you because there's a situation at the high school and I need the help of a good student. And I think you are the perfect student to help out. Please come to my office when you get here. See you, Peter," Pete scratched his head at the very strange message. Mr. Pound was always pretty friendly towards him but he never expected to get texts from the man. Feeling uneasy about any more interactions with his weird Principal, Pete kept walking home but quickly stopped. What kind of damage could this guy do to my future?, Pete wondered, Maybe I should stay on this guys good side. At least for the time being. And with that, Pete let out a heavy sigh and started walking back towards his High school.
...
Pete was unnerved by the emptiness of the school halls. The big open pathways were barely lit by low wattage fluorescent bulbs used after school hours. Instead of the usual sounds of feet trampling the floors and teenagers yelling at each other, there was silence except a far away janitor whistling old rock songs. Pete shook his head quickly, trying to shake off these tense feelings he was giving himself. Pete made a turn in the halls and saw his principals office across the hall. Pete squinted his eyes, he could have sworn that he saw a purple flash through the blurred glass in the Principal's door. Probably a lava lamp or something Pete shrugged as he reached his hand towards the door and knocked.
"Come in, Peter!" Mr. Pound exclaimed. Pete did as he was told and was greeted to Mr. Pound, happy as ever, sitting like the most relaxed person in the world. It almost looked like Pete had woken up his principal with his knock, but Mr. Pound didn't seem to mind. He was happy no matter the day, always smiling. Many students found it creepy, but Pete never cared too much, except for now. It is pretty creepy. Stop smiling, weirdo.
"Um, you wanted to see me?" Pete asked the cheerful old man.
"I sure did! Come on Peter, take a seat," Mr. Pound beckoned Pete to one of the chairs in front of his desk. Pete obliged, but looked at cushion before sitting. Once Mr. Pound put a whoopee cushion under his seat after calling him into his office. Mr. Pound thought it was the funniest thing ever and laughed about it for three days in a row. Pete was satisfied that his seat was whoopee-less and sat. "You know what I like about you, Peter?" Mr. Pound paused for Pete to ask why, but he didn't pick it up, "You have so much potential. You are clever, concerned, and respectful. Have you decided on what you want to do after graduation?"
"Um, not really," Pete looked at the clock in the office. It was getting pretty late. "Is this the situation you needed me for? This couldn't have waited until Monday?"
"I think you would make an amazing teacher!" Mr. Pound claimed, ignoring Pete's questions, "Think about it, Peter. Whenever you and I talk, I sometimes forget I'm speaking with a teenager. You're so mature. And your grades aren't too shabby either. I've seen you around school, looking after the little guys. The underdogs! You don't look down on the runts or outcasts but rather you treat them just like everybody else. With qualities like yours, I don't really see you being anything but a teacher."
"Um, Thanks," Pete had no idea where this was coming from, but wanted to leave, "I really need to get home, my mom's..."
"Whoa whoa, wait a minute Peter!" Mr. Pound interrupted Pete, "I'm not done over here. Do you know Ms. Millie?" Pete vaguely remembers seeing a very tall women walking through the halls. Some of the meaner kids would whisper Millipede behind her back. "Good," Mr . Pound continued, "Well, she has gone away,"
"Oh," Pete wasn't really that upset, but feigned concern to be polite. "What happened to her?"
"Oh, nothing," Mr. Pound waved his hand in the air like he was trying to swat a fly, "Nothing you need to worry about anyways. The real trouble here is that I have an empty space in my staff that needs to be filled immediately. And that's where you come in, Peter!"
"Pardon?" Pete wasn't entirely sure he heard the man correctly, "What am I supposed to do?"
"Well it's not about what you're supposed to do," Mr. Pound sat upright and began searching for something in his desk. "It's what you're going to do, Peter." Mr. Pound had pulled out what looked like an old notary hand stamp. It had some bright purple letters lined vertically on the handle. Pete tilted his head and read the mysterious words "Those Who Can't Do"
"What's that, Mr. Pound?" Pete nervously backed into his seat.
"Well this, Peter, keeps this school running," Mr. Pound kept his creepy smile on, "Now, some Principals like to read resume after resume, looking diligently for the best candidate to teach their students. But all of those resumes are complete stranger! I wasn't anywhere near comfortable letting random people near my students. That's when I thought, what if I could find a way to get to know someone over a long period time, then hire them? How bout my luck when I find this little stamp! If I use this stamp on someone, it will turn them into a perfect role model, parental figure, and educator. The results can be pretty random but it has worked pretty well in the past. So what I’ve done is interview freshman when they start, and slowly whittle down the options throughout those students high school careers. It’s a lot of hard work, but worth it! I I've been turning seniors into teachers for 25 years now and have had the best teachers a principal could ever ask for!"
"Mr. Pound," Pete had stood up, wide eyed at the crazy man in front of him, "I'm leaving now."
"Oh, Peter," Mr. Pound's smile disappeared and was replaced with a sly grin, "You're not going anywhere," Before Pete could react, Mr. Pound lunged forward with the stamp. He slammed the stamp directly into the middle of Pete's forehead. Recoiling in pain, Pete was forced back into the chair. Light began to fade away, as Pete fell unconscious. He tried to desperately to punch Mr. Pound or to runaway, but his body wasn't reacting at all. All he could do was slowly pass out, as he felt purple ink dripping from his forehead. The last thing he heard was his Principal's maniacal laughs.
...
"Another Success!" Pete heard Mr. Pound snort what seemed like 50 yards away. Once Pete had gotten into a fight with a bully in fifth grade. The musclebound 11 year old had punched Pete as hard as he could in the head. Pete was completely knocked out and woke up with the very similar feeling that he was experiencing now. He slowly opened his eyes, only to see Mr. Pound standing over his body lying on the floor. Before Pete had gathered himself enough to run away or beat the hell out of his Principal, Mr. Pound proudly stated, "Congratulations, Peter. You've turned into my favorite teacher so far. You are now...."
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