When walls don’t explode, they hold pictures.
To most, Dilf was just some weird guy hanging out with pigeons. Harmless, really.
He wore a hat that obscured his face and ragged clothes that looked like newspapers stitched together. He sat on this little cardboard every day, and probably looked like he smelled.
And when his favorite wall broke down, Dilf was quite saddened. It was a community mural painted two decades ago, back when the community was different. Back when they cared. Humans tend to forget things like that.
Dilf looked at the crumbled mural in front of him.
A broken shell of what was once there. A reminder to those left behind to pick up the pieces.
He stood up straight, the bones in his body shifting, before settling down. He took off his hat, and the back of his clothes started rearranging themselves. Pigeons hopped towards him, as they melded back into gray, molted feathers of wings.
Wings. Dilf had wings?
Most of the time, it was like the view of the world purposely avoided Dilf. Like a photographer making sure their camera didn’t capture any unnecessary urban features, or worse, a hobo. But this time, the camera panned to the Dilf’s face.
Ever seen a pigeon's eyes?
* * *
Orange, red, gray. A painting that was in disarray.
But __ mind felt too blurry to think about that.
Only that…
Pictures disclose a thousand words. And when __ held his breath, he found a thousand more.
The scene before him was like a landscape painting. A dimly lit foreground. A messy, disoriented background. It was funny, in a way. His mind begged him to persist like the bristles of weeds he had seen before. But every stroke of rain washed the color seeping out of him.
Now that it was unearthed, he felt the feeling rearing its head with colors flaring around him. The hues within his veins mixed with the puddles of paint and he heard a sound far away from the darkness.
GONG!
The sound of a gong… And like a remote pressing the channel away, his view changed.
Everything morphed and he was now away from the canvas. At once, a spotlight shone upon him from above, and his eyes winced.
Using his hand to hide from the suffocating brightness, the boy looked up and saw a figure.
Draped in white cloth and inscribed with golden patterns, its black limbs were covered by glowing tattoos. With an ancient air radiating different prospects, the manifestation didn’t possess a humanoid face. Instead, where a face should have been, he found a bell.
'I am your greatest threat,' the bell figure warned. 'Ignore me, and you shall face great misfortune in your future. For I am the Waker, the harbinger of inevitability and consequence: a warning for DILATORINESS.'
‘Now, WAKE UP.’ The voice bellowed.
'Huh?' Steven quivered and blinked his eyes open to see the bright classroom. Most of the class had already scrambled away. He smacked his face, as he pulled himself up.
"Ugh," Steven muttered. “What happened while I was asleep?”
Zero told him nothing much, just that the janitor had to come to fix the walls, but then class resumed session.
Steven glanced at the time. They were going to be late. What did ‘dilatoriness’ mean anyway?
"I was gonna wake you up," Zero continued. “We were waiting.”
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He pointed to Mayo.
"It’s fine." Steven answered. "It's the first day. Teachers don’t mark you late on the first day."
Zero seemed like he wanted to say something but didn’t.
Dieze did though, gently reminding Steven that he was dumb. D-U-M-B.
Steven ignored it, heading out.
Once again, the group made their journey across the hall. This time, Steven crouched, narrowly avoiding a girl leaping past them. The late bell rang as they stepped in.
In front of the class, an attractive blonde lady stood casually, arms under her assets. She waved her hand in poised elegance, looked at the class, and introduced herself.
"Hello, class. My name is Jessica Simpel deVitch, Call me Jessica! I shall be teaching you simplified English." She paused for a second, "Oh, excuse me! American English, not that there’s much of a difference."
Ms. DeVitch held flashy, gorgeous jewelry that came off as tacky, and played with them one by one.
"So Mrs. DeVitch-" Calum called out.
“Excuse me?” Ms. DeVitch interrupted. "Do I look old to you?", her golden hair bouncing away from her face.
You’re Not…
Expecting…
Someone to say no, right?
(Call said something along those lines).
Ms. DeVitch exclaimed in displeasure, as she looked at the class, "Aaaaah uN-BElieV-Able! How dare y'all! Imma be shocked to be teaching ya… ya b-bunch of rascals!"
Naturally, not all Americans were cowboys, despite Jessica’s quick switch to the language. (Historically, most Americans were grass-fed cows.)
Ms. DeVitch's eyes bulged as she went on a rant.
‘Oh, teenagers.’ As she gritted her teeth, she crushed the ruler in her hand into fine bits of powder. Teenagers, so disrespectful these days! She opened her hand, and the granulated "ruler" bits fell out. Besides, even if she was more than a hundred years old now, she was “forever 21” in her heart!
Ignoring her, Steven focused on reviewing basic grammar skills. He took out a little blue book of grammar and punctuation, which he had brought from home.
Item: Blue Book of Grammar [D grade]
[Description: A nice book. A couple decades old. Contains words that can be read.]
And it was so soft and comfortable… for his head.
Muted snores drizzled out.
"..." Zero and Mayo looked at him, and then back at the teacher… whose eyebrows furrowed, oblivious.
Luckily for them, another student had caught the teacher's attention. On the side, a student had his leg angled out of the windowsill, like he was prepared to jump out.
“Sweetie, excuse me, where are you going?” Ms. Devitch smiled at the handsome lad.
“Sorry Ms. Devitch, I have an event to attend to?” The boy replied, squatting on the ledge. “I’m an idol trainee… Special exceptions.”
“Isn’t my class the most important?” Ms. Devitch struck a pose.
The boy looked at her, and jumped out of the window.
“Y-” Ms. DeVitch now exploded into screams about how annoyed she was at them. Students should know not to disrespect their elders. Elders! She came from a prestigious family of Simpel deVitch's. DeVitch's! They should grovel under her feet. Feet!
She smiled, knowing at any second now, they would apologize for their misconduct. After all, she was Jessica Simpel deVitch!
Her face beamed with pride.
For a while it seemed like the storm was over…
A nervous laugh rang through the room.
…But then, it started again:
“I have never seen such atrocious behavior in my class!” Ms. DeVitch batted her eyelashes in disgust.
The girls looked at her, then continued to read their books.
“Why are you not paying attention to me?”
“#FAE7B9.” The pink-haired girl said, which earned her a “what?” from Jessica.
“Your teeth.” The girl explained.
Ms. DeVitch looked up at the shade - a nice yellow-ish tint - before hissing and pulling out teeth whitening strips.
With a flash of anger in her eyes and a disdainful “hmph!” escaping her lips, she sashayed away like a storm. Gathering herself, Ms. DeVitch turned her attention back to the class, jumping around and berating one student after another.
But just when everyone thought it would finally end, Ms. DeVitch found herself another target: a sleeping boy.
“Why are you sleeping in my class?”
Snore.
“How dare you talk back to me!”
Snore.
“That’s it!” With a heavy sigh, Ms. DeVitch clapped her hands sharply. “I’ve had it with this class. You know, we have a point system for a reason, to encourage good behavior and to punish dis-respect-ful,” her voice came out a bit shrill there, “children. And what you’ve just done,” she pointed sternly at the sleeping boy, “has consequences.”
“MINUS 50 POINTS!” She screeched, the scream echoed through the room.
The class erupted in groans and complaints, and several pairs of annoyed eyes turned towards the sleeping boy. Zero nudged the sleeping boy, whose eyes fluttered open. It was almost lunchtime.
"What?" Steven shot up and ran out of class.
Zero blinked. The bell hadn’t rung yet.
“MINUS 20 POINTS!”