WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOo by AnonymousNov 18, 2015

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoIt isnt normal. Those sounds she makes. It bellows from within and rises

through the air like a kite on high. Eurgh. Its monday. That means Ill have alesson with her. And that bitch Sue is annoying, but that Freds ok, albeit a bittoo quiet. Thats why Im the target. Every day I get called a pest

9:00The school bell (buzzer, horn, trumpet, trombone, bassoon, hooter, con-

trabass saxophone, virtual noise machine, ringding?) goes off 5 minutes tooearly. I feel like Im living in the past and future simultaneously. We grab ourbags and walk, uniformly, to the study room. Last week we stained the white-boards with mathematical blood, Im sure Shell have something to say aboutthat.

9:03Were here. Alone. Sues telling me im short. I fucking know Sue, you

slag. Joe looks around aimlessly, his mother behind, cuppa tea in hand. Whereis SHE though?. We just kicked out the gay nazi and his friends, but where isSHE? Joe, do you know? No. Oh. Well, guess we must wait. Sue flicks herbag onto the table and lets out a sigh. Something in the air is different. Itswarmer, and its not just the heat coming from the coffee (tea, I dont fuckingknow). Maybe its the giant server thing, droning on endlessly through gigabytesof network data.

9:10I just hit Sue and tweeted it. Two favourites. Great. Joe is drawing a

cube on the board. The joke is old now, stop. She has been late before, butusually her network of ravens has informed us of that before hand. The coffteahas gone very cold, no thermal energy from the brownian motion of particleswithin it anymore. Absolute Zero.

Weve been talking about how amazing we are at maths and how sad itis that we have 12x1090 exams this year.Through all of this, though, I couldhear a fourth voice. Distant, faint, but present. The lights feel brighter, andthe conversation turns to another in-joke. I think, once you have more than 10in-jokes, they stop being jokes and become signs of insanity. Such is maths.

9:25We have given up. Sue and Joe are looking down at me (of course, the

bastardy skyscrapers), and tutting about how that was our only lesson. We tryto revise, but end up writing a horror story about Mrs. Grimshaw. I can still hearit, and Joe can too. That careful whisper, a word we both recognise. It cant be.

I run back to the study room, moving through left-right steps and shim-mies all the way. There she is. I call Sue and Joe, they lumber themselves overto me. Wait, why isnt she responding to our appearence? I dont know, Sue,maybe shes gone blind. And deaf? And deaf.

She is staring at the work on the board. Our mathematical madness, inorange blue and brown splattered all over the place. I can see her eyes workingover it. She doesnt understand. Ill try to explain. Its maths miss. No responseIts our revision A harsh breathing comes from her.

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WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOo by AnonymousNov 18, 2015

I remember, when I taugh in Africa, the children were so enthusiastic.Oh, really, miss? Yes. You are all so fantastic. Joe moves into the corner, hedoesnt want to be dragged into this. SUe sits down. No deary, dont. Look atme, and stand there.

Oh no, shes gonnaWOWOOOOaooowoPPOPOPOoOOOOOWWWOWOWus to death.

I was right.9:30I can feel it all reversing. The equations on the boards shift and solve

themselves, endlessly. Newton-Raphson warned me about this. This is recur-ring. Her glasses are crystals, and the the words maths written over them. Joebegins to cry (fucking finally), and Sue tweets a photo of it.

This is dire. A wind picks up, making a woo sound as it whips around us.Miss, whats going on. I try to escape, the door is locked and blinds closed.

Sue was the first to fall (shes tall, so you know the saying)SHe went away as though into a distance, tending to infinity. I can feel

myself changing, too. Joe. Oh god, not Joe. He is split into hundreds of pieces,then stacked and reiterated as many times as I could imagine, through to thefinal iteration; a monster, now just some Joe that I used to know.

Im last.I warned you, you pest. Stop being a pest (pest). What a besty clever

sticks your are.. No your work UNIFORM and that, woooooooo. Are you okdea(woo)ries.

Then, a liquid forms at my feet. In it, complex numbers floating about. Itrapidly fills the room, and reeks of something indescribable. Im up to my neckin maths, now. Im not sure what to do. Then..

Im submerged, drowning. I surrender to it. As I draw one last breath Ihear, through the awful liquid:

Youre in the soup.

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