Lord Prankster

Lord Prankster

Written by: David Cseh

*

         The principal of Lowlington High, Mr. Middleson Lance, was angry. No, he was beyond angry. He was livid. He sat in his dark and stuffy office, behind his magnificent oak desk, twirling something between his wrinkled fingers. The students had already gone home, the setting sun's rays crept through the blinds, sending orange lines across the office. The principal soundlessly reclined in his chair, and glared with his old eyes at the battery in his hand.

         It was an AA battery. Snitchholme, his spy amongst the students, brought it to him a few hours ago. The short, quiet, and therefore dangerous boy said that it was part of the school's biggest troublemaker's, Lord Prankster's next plan.

         Principal Middleson growled. For years, this Lord Prankster had been wreaking havoc on the school. This anonymous figure, whom the students love, whom he could never catch, whom he despised. The man set the battery down on his desk, and pressed the single red button beside his lamp.

         "Mrs. Parkinson, come into my office, please."

         A woman's strong, ringing voice answered.

         "Yes, Principal."

         Principal Middleson released the button and leaned forward unto his desk, fingers steepeld beneath his nose. The office's door slowly opened, and old Beth Parkinson, his most trusted secretary entered the room. The man could not see her face, the hall lights only illuminated her outlines.

         "You asked for me, Principal Middleson?"

         The man nodded.

         "Yes, come in, Beth. We have to discuss my speech."

         The woman closed the door behind her, and sat in the chair before the principal's desk. The sun's weakening light drew four lines across her wizened face, Principal Middleson could see her sky blue, piercing eyes.

         "Of course, Principal. I have already started typing it, it will be finished tomorrow. Do you wish to go over it?"

         The man shook his head.

         "No, Beth," he said, and picked the battery off the desk. "Lord Prankster is up to something. Snitchholme just told me."

         The secretary gasped.

         "But I didn't even see the boy! When was he here?"

         Principal Middleson chuckled.

         "Beth, Beth... If Snitchholme doesn't want to be seen, he won't be."

         The woman nodded. The man started twirling the battery between his fingers again.

         "Beth, Snitchholme said that Lord Prankster keeps in touch with his acolytes with batteries such as this one..."

         He set the battery down on the desk once more.

         "He said that they are meeting somewhere in the building. They only admit those who tap on their door five times, then show them this battery. They peek out through the door's keyhole, so they don't have to open the door..."

         The old secretary eyed the battery with distrust.

         "What do you suggest we do, Principal?"

         Principal Middleson rose from his chair and shuffled to one of his cabinets. His back creaked ominously, his secretary looked at him, worried. The old man opened one of the metal cabinets, flipped through folders, then let out a triumphant "Ha!".

         He returned to his desk and slapped a folder down before Mrs. Parkinson. The principal eased into his chair, slowly, wincing all the while.

         "Snitchholme cannot enter their group, he is too important, I do not want his cover broken, even in his last couple of weeks here. This student - " he gestured at the folder. " - will be more than adequate to do the job. She is smart, devious, and hopelessly adventurous. She will be more than happy to try and infiltrate their evil little club... A certain amount of awards will persuade her."

         Beth Parkinson smiled, upon seeing the student's picture in the folder.

         "Halee Nofsire? She's the best student in her year! How do you know they'll accept her?"

         Principal Middleson smiled warmly, a smile his students had learned to fear.

         "You'll see, Beth. You'll see."

*

         Halee Nofsire sat in the school's library, reading a book in one of the corners, behind a book case. This was her favorite place, here no one saw her. Mrs. Koboscae, the librarian, was the only one who knew she was here, but didn't say a word. The woman liked Halee very much, and directed every other student entering the library to a different part of the maze of shelves.

         The school day had ended, almost everyone had gone home, but Halee always stayed until the library closed. Which was in a couple of minutes, so she stood up, and placed the book back on it's shelf. She closed her notebook, filled with notes for English, stored her pen in the little holder she taped on the book's side, and slowly walked to the front of the library.

         Mrs. Koboscae smiled at her. They scarcely spoke to one another, it always seemed as though the librarian could read Halee's thoughts.

         "Good bye, Mrs. Koboscae," she said.

         The woman nodded.

         "Good bye, Halee"

         The girl left the safety of the library, and strode through the halls of Lowlington High. There was no one in sight, which was good, because Halee had no desire to speak to anyone. This was just one of those days, one of those hellish ones, when she was morose, sad, and exhausted all at once. The end of year was near, her grades were perfect, but still she crammed like no other. So she was so, so very tired.

         At least it will all be over soon. She had already written all of her exams, so now all that remained was getting the results. She had always been a pessimist, so she hoped that her grades will be okay. Everyone told her that she was brilliant, the best, but still, she had her doubts.

         She walked to her locker, took out her backpack (she always kept it in there when she was in the library - she didn't like leaving it at the library's entrance, unsupervised), and slowly walked toward the school's exit.

         "Ms. Nofsire."

         Halee turned around, and found herself before Mrs. Parkinson, the principals chief secretary. The girl gulped, stories about this woman were abundant throughout the school - tortures chambers in her rooms, evil detentions, writing parents with false accusations - and she had no intention to be part of any of them.

         "Yes, Mrs. Parkinson?" she asked sweetly, innocently. Even though none of her classmates noticed it, she was a first rate actress. How was she supposed to weasel out of not writing homework on occasion? Oh, they thought they knew her: bookworm, goody-goody, teacher's pet. Little did they know that all of these were her tools at getting the best grades. Her future was a stake, she had to achieve well.

         The secretary was one member of the staff who didn't buy her act, but who appreciated it none-the-less. This little Halee reminded her of her younger self, she liked the girl.

         "Dear, I have a special assignment for you."

*

         Principal Middleson sat in his office once again, though this time the blinds were drawn apart, letting the sunlight bathe the room in yellow colors. It was the day after, Snitchholme stood before the principal's desk, straight, haughty, and serious. He had news.

         "Mr. Principal... Halee Nofsire has been accepted into Lord Prankster's little society."

         The old man before him clapped his hands together in glee.

         "Excellent news, Snitchholme!"

         The boy nodded.

         "Thank you, Sir. I have managed to gain a list of Lord Prankster's helpers from Ms. Nofsire."

         He took out a piece of paper, and lightly placed it on the principal’s desk. The man grinned.

         "Snitchholme! You get a week off for this!"

         The boy bowed slightly.

         "Thank you, Sir. Ms. Nofsire would like to know when she can quit this assignment. She says there is nothing else she can do, Lord Prankster never comes to the Society's meetings. She will never have a chance to give you a name. Not even the senior members, who are all on this list, know his true identity."

         The principal's smile faded.

         "No one knows who he is? No one?"

         Snitchholme shook his head.

         "No, Sir. He never appears before them."

         The older man sighed, and rubbed his temples.

         "Very well, Snitchholme. Thank you. Tell Ms. Nofsire that she will have to somehow sabotage their next prank."

         The boy inclined his head.

         "Will that be all, Sir?"

         Principal Middleson nodded.

         "Yes, my boy. You may go."

         Snitchholme left the office. No one saw him enter, or leave.

*

         Mrs. Parkinson sat in a chair behind the podium. Principal Middleson stood in front of the entire school, saying his speech.

         "Students of Lowlington High! Once again, a year has passed, you've all learned a great deal, written your tests, went on field trips, celebrated holidays, and had a Student's Day! Some of you have won awards or contests, participated in our foreign exchange program, and took it upon yourselves to raise money for the school's cause..."

         The students looking up at the principal didn't budge, didn't move. No one spoke. Mrs. Parkinson's eyebrows compressed into a fine line. This was strange. The students never remained quiet during the principal's speech. He always had to stop at least five times. The old secretary felt uneasy. Something was amiss.

         "...Also, the academic performance of more than one class has been above our fine State's average! Once again, Lowlington High proved to all that it's students are responsible, hard learning, reliable citizens of our fine country!"

         Mrs. Parkinson scanned the unmoving crowd with her eyes. For a brief second, she saw something raised high by one of the students. A battery? No, it couldn't be! The students on Snitchholme's list have all been questioned, they didn't admit anything. The school didn't have proof. Surely, they wouldn't try something, when they knew that she was watching! There! Another battery! And another! Five...ten...thirty batteries! What is the meaning of this?

*

         Principal Middleson was sweating. He was standing at his podium, saying his speech, when he saw the batteries. At first, only one. Then another, and another. Thirty, forty batteries, all raised high! He gulped. What was going to happen? What are they planning? Is this a sign, will something tumble upon him from the sky? Those batteries...

         Lord Prankster's past pranks were brutal. He doused the teachers in tapioca pudding, sent toilet paper flying during the school's ceremonies, even fiddled with some of the school's video cameras, blinded them with black duct tape. He was horrible, invisible, and cruel. The principal voice quavered, his hands shook. To be unmade by batteries... Simple batteries! The shame of it... What will happen now?

*

         Halee Nofsire scanned the crowd behind her, her hands trembling, the battery between her fingers glistening with her nervous sweat. They are watching her, she has to raise it high! What will Mrs. Parkinson think? She should have talked with them, not let Snitchholme take her message? What was going to happen?

*

         The old secretary looked at the crowd, aghast. Forty batteries! What are they going to do? Where's the Lord Prankster?

         The principal tried to continue his speech.

{indent"And... uhm - the new rules, prohibiting talking in the halls, guaranteeing that all of L - Lowlington Highs students behave as they – khm – as they should..."

         Mrs. Parkinson saw it now. They are trying to make him blabber, to stutter, to make a fool of himself! How dare they! Lord Prankster, he must be here! He must be savouring his triumph!

         The secretary looked around, searching for a gloating face, a mirthful eye. But all she saw were faces like these, snickering, laughing students, forty of them with their batteries held high. Where was he? Where was Lord Prankster?

*

         Principal Middleson would not back down. He admitted defeat, Lord Prankster got him again, but he will not bow down before Him! He will finish his speech, stuttering or not, and leave the podium gracefully - maybe it will work... If only he could calm down!

         "T-the school's brand new library system, along with the - uhm - the fixed doors and new signs for visitors thr-throughout the premises, are all our new - khm, excuse me - our new steps toward the future!"

         A single battery was thrown at the principal. It landed on the podium, on his speech, rolled a bit, and settled beside his shaking fingers. He looked up and saw a single, smiling face.

*

         Snitchholme laughed. After years of snitching on people (on those who deserved it) he finally got back at the principal! To think that they thought he was a groveling lowlife! Hah!

         The real Lord Prankster graduated a year before, and Snitchholme carried the title since. Now that he graduated as well, Middleson can't get him, neither can Mrs. Parkinson. He pulled a prank on the Nofsire girl, on the principal and his secretary, and all those dunderheads on his fake list!

         He was free, and with this failed speech, his four years at Lowlington High were over. With this, he was worthy of his brother.

         The Lord Prankster.

End

         Some strangeness:

         Halee Nofsire - rearranged: false heroine
         Mrs. Koboscae - rearranged: Mrs. Bookcase
         Lowlington High, Mr. Middleson Lance
         Snitchholme