School Days

         Johnny sat at his desk doodling in his school workbook what he considered a humorous picture of Chester Cheetah with huge dick laying limply in a pile of his own semen.  This, of course, was just a distraction from listening to his 8th-grade teacher ramble on about US history, or geography, or whatever-the-hell this class was he was sitting in.

         He closed his workbook, English!  That’s the class, he remembered.  Johnny looked up at his teacher, who, for being in her late forties, was fairly attractive.  Yeah, I’d hit that! 

       Suddenly, he heard machine-gun fire out in the hallway. Holy shit!  Johnny had been in training for the past three years, just for this kind of situation.  Never once did he think he’d ever have to use his specialized skills in Middle School Tactical Warfare, but now that the occasion had arisen, his years of training started to flow through his veins, behaving as natural instincts.

         As his classmates started to freak out, his teacher instructed all the students to take cover under their desks, as she headed to lock the door.

         “No!”  Jonny screamed at his teacher, but it was too late.  Shattered glass scattered throughout the classroom as a stray bullet whizzed through the small door window and struck his teacher in the forehead.  Blood, brains and pieces of skull splattered across the room as her lifeless body fell to the floor.

         For Johnny, everything at that moment started flowing in slow motion.  He grabbed his government issued Glock from his backpack, lept over his desk and slid to a stop at the door.  He braced his back to the door and listened intently.  He could hear several different patterns of weapon fire going off in several different locations of the school.  Johnny knew there were at least three different perpetrators in the building, using an arrangement of various weapons to carry out their destruction.

         Just then, one of the gunmen tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge because Johnny had his weight braced against it.  Johnny instinctively rolled onto his back and pushed off the door with all his might, sliding across the classroom floor.  The gunman flung the door open with his automatic assault rifle ready to unload, but to his surprise, he never got the chance.

         The gunman’s menacing look froze on his face as Johnny’s single shot fired from his Glock and hit the gunman in his left eye, killing him instantly.  The gunman fell onto his knees with his assault rifle still in his right hand, his body awkwardly staying in that position, defying the fact that he was dead.

         Bullseye, motherfucker!

         Johnny leapt to his feet and moved to the door.  He peeked his head out and looked down the hallway.  He couldn’t see anyone, but he could hear the high-piercing sound of gunfire and kids screaming hysterically.  Johnny stepped over the fallen gunman and headed down the hall.  He knew he needed to act fast before more innocent lives were lost.  As for the not-so-innocent, those lives would be lost today.

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