Cough cough

In the ruins of an abandoned carnival, a middle-aged man in a cheap suit was on his hands and knees. He was having a coughing fit that just didn't seem to want to end.

"Where...where in Sam hill am I?" he asked no one in particular as he readjusted the coke bottle glasses on his face.

As he stood up, he let out a "Tsk," as he looked down at his brown pants.

"Well, this is a fine how do you do," he complained as he put his hands on his hips and shook his head. "This place is absolutely filthy, and now I've got dust all over my suit."

He readjusted the glasses on his face before he looked around. "Thompson! Is this some sort of prank young man? Your father and I will certainly have words if you don't step out here and fess up right this minute!"

The only reply he got was the metal creaking of a nearby ride rocking in the wind. He looked around and walked briskly towards a dust coated mirror. He pulled out a handkerchief from an inner pocket of his jacket and quickly wiped the mirror clear.

He appraised himself in the mirror and shook his head in disappointment. His eyes rose up to his thinning hairline, and he let out another, "Tsk," before he pulled out a small black comb and started to comb the hair from the right side of his head up over his receding hairline and to the other side.

After nearly a minute he seemed satisfied. He shook out his handkerchief and then returned it and the comb back into their place.

"They think they can pull one over on Harold Wormer? Hah! I've seen it all." He said to himself as he straightened his jacket. "Some rapscallions probably picked up my mattress while I slept and carried it to some abandoned park in the outskirts of town. No doubt assisted by some sort of drugging of my coffee."

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He chuckled to himself as he started to walk down the empty paths. "Oh no, there's always troublesome young people who think they can outplay me. But this?"

He looked around in disgust at the filth that surrounded him. "This is going too far. I'll see that they're expelled. And not just the culprits, but their children, and their children's children! Why none of them will set a foot near Stoneman high when I'm through with them!"

He looked absolutely pleased with himself as he wore a self-satisfied grin on his cleanshaven face. "It had to have been that Thompson boy. I always knew he was no good. A rotten apple from a rotten family tree. Should've been trimmed down to a stump generations ago."

"But he must've had help. I doubt such a screwup could have planned something like this. No, there were definitely accomplices, and I'll make sure they all receive the same fierce punishment." He continued to talk to himself as he walked around.

Each second he looked more and more smug. Just completely full of himself, and proud of his plans for revenge, or "just punishment" as he called it.

"Well, isn't this interesting." Abraham watched the man wander in his suit. He was standing on a rocking gondola of the Ferris wheel with the barrel still on his shoulder.

Abraham licked his lips as Harold continued to talk to himself. When Harold ended up at the base of the Ferris wheel, Abraham seemed unable to contain himself and he jumped down from gondola to gondola until he reached the ground.

"Good god man!" exclaimed Harold. "Where did you come from?" As Harold looked at Abraham's torn up attire his face turned to shock. "More importantly, what the dickens happened to your clothes?"

Abraham looked down at the tattered remains of his once fancy clothes and let out a laugh. He turned to Harold and smiled wide.

But Harold was already upon Abraham, with a cloth tape measure out. He easily grabbed his arms and was measuring out his clothes all while going, "Tsk, tsk, tsk."

Finally, Harold stepped back and pushed his glasses up on his face. "This won't do. Your attire is absolutely atrocious young man. I'm sure you're aware of the consequences for breaking the dress code so egregiously!"

Abraham was caught off guard. "Dress code? What are you..."

"And what is this you have here?" Harold scolded as he pointed up at the barrel. "Why, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that looks like some sort of alcoholic beverage. Of course, I know that's impossible, as that would be a flagrant disregard for the school's bylaws."

Abraham was obviously confused, but he quickly shook it off and grinned cruelly as he said, "I think you're confused. And if you value your..."

"Value? Hah! A troublemaker like you clearly has no perception of good, old-fashioned American values!" Harold scolded. "I have half a mind to reprimand you right here and now, but seeing as I'm a generous soul. I shall give you the chance to avoid trouble. All you have to do is lead me out of this place, and of course immediately change into proper attire while disposing of that filth on your shoulder."

Abraham blinked slowly. "Huh?"

HArold rolled his eyes. "Really now son, it isn't that complicated, or are you such a bad student that you can't even understand simple instructions?"

Harold had quickly taken charge, and talked circles around Abraham as he continued to verbally berate and belittle him.