On a cool dewy day in October
In the depths of room 603,
A student was studying vocab,
Unaware of what was to be.
The student was arrogant,
Selfish and crude,
Unimaginative, illiterate,
And frankly quite rude.
Hunched over desks,
The students were draped,
Hunched over study books
Their pencils scraped.
On today of all days
He was feeling miffed
Over the schools potholes
He had Tokyo drift.
On this dreary day,
He devised a plan,
So dark and unthinkable,
Throughout the land.
He would stand up and shout
At the top of his voice,
The teachers first name,
What a bold choice.
The teacher in question
Sat in his chair,
Grading essays,
With meticulous care.
The student arose,
With confidence poise,
The teacher turned,
To the sudden noise,
A deep breath inhaled,
Voice strong and loud,
He shouted the name,
That shocked the crowd.
Silence pursued,
The deadly kind,
(SILENCE)
The calm of the storm,
Was at its peak,
As the silence waned,
The students’ knees grew weak.
From his perch on the chair,
Like the gaze of a hawk,
He stared down the student
Who let out a squawk.
On the very next day,
The student didn’t arrive
People began to wonder,
If he was still alive.
From that day on,
There came a forced peace,
After the disposal of He,
Who called him Maurice.