I’m in the halls of Century Middle School, where there are not enough classrooms for everybody. In this tiny school in a little city up in Colorado I’m stuck teaching math, wondering what boring surprises I will find. Of all the subjects. I just had to pick this one. The one that I have always despised, and tolerated, throughout my whole life.
I strut into my rather large classroom. I right down my name on the board.
“Mr. Reagan the math teacher,” I say in boredom.
I’ve always wanted to be an NFL player, or a cameraman for a the NBA, or a news anchor for ESPN. Heck, I’d like to be the President of the United States for all I care. but I end up with this stupid job teaching algebra, and criticizing punks who think they own everybody, running
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Time is going by a lot slower, as I’m starting to lose my rhythm, as the next period comes in.
It’s now fourth period; the end of my day, and I am not getting very nervous, even though Nixon is much more intimidating than me.
Finally, as I start to walk in the office, I see Nixon’s colossal shoulders, and hefty nose lurking through the glass, staring at me. I stride into his office, and squat onto a chair.
“Ok,” He begins to talk, “I am leaving the school on Monday to run for president.”
“Wow,” I say in awe, “I did not expect that when I was walking into this room.”
“I was wondering if you would like to take my place as I am gone, as principal.”
“Well of course not! I want to run for president. If it means me being president over you, I’m in the whitehouse in a blink!”
“Well if that what you think, then you’re fired.”
“Well okay then. I don’t need this stupid job, or your fat nose to tell me how I live my life. Now give me my severance by tomorrow.”
I storm out of the room, heated, I pack my things up, get in my Toyota corolla, and start driving down to Washington