Natasha Ferrier and the Mystery of...the VooDoo Doll

Everyone has had a teacher whom they absolutely despise. The teacher who makes you wanna scream. The teacher who makes you wanna hurl. The teacher who makes you wanna yell, "YOU SUCK!" in the middle of class. The teacher who makes you wanna yell, "TRUE DAT!" right after the kid who had the guts to yell, "YOU SUCK!" in the middle of class. The teacher who you can't even get away from once you leave school, because then you have nightmares featuring teach-who-must-not-be-named. The teacher who makes you wanna pour a vat-load of applesauce into her chair. The teacher who's butt jiggles like a vat-load of applesauce. The teacher who's so dumb, she actually believes that applesauce comes in 'vat-loads.' The teacher who you make a little voodoo doll out of and torture, desperately praying she's feeling every punch, poke, poop (the dog's of course...), and pinch. At least that's what I did.

"Man, I HATE Ms. Glover."

"Ha, more like Ms. Run For Cover."

"Okay that was lame."

"Yeah, but I still hate her."

"Yeah she sucks."

"Really sucks."

"Man! She sucks!"

"Really really sucks."

"Yeah she's stupid."

"Really stupid."

"Man! She's stupid!"

"Really really---"

"Okay that's enough."

"I wish we could, like, put a curse on her."

"Yeah, or like, get a thingy where you stick the pins in it and stuff."

"I have one!"

"A thingy?"

"A voodoo doll!"

"No!"

"Yes! Hold on...VOILA!"

"Wow...who is it supposed to be?"

"I don't know, I've never actually made it be a person. I just find it kind of creepy if I made it someone and then sat in my room by myself sticking pins and tacks in it to put that person in severe pain, all while laughing maniacally and feeling no guilt whatsoever."

"Good point."

"But that means we can make it Ms. Glover!"

"YES!"

"Okay, you...are...Ms...Glover....NOW!"

"Is that how you do it?"

"I mean, yeah."

"Now what do we do?"

"Whatever we want."

"POW! BANG! SHAZAM!"

"Shazam?"

"RIGHT-IN-YOUR-STOMACH!"

"Way to go...keep up the good---"

"RIGHT-IN-YOUR-ABDOMEN!"

"Hang in there...you're doin---"

"RIGHT-IN-YOUR-ESTOMAGO!"

"Spanish...way to use your resources..."

"RIGHT-IN-YOUR-TUM TUM!"

"Okay, I think we're running out of synonyms now."

"Really? Was tum-tum not intimidating?"

"No, you were doing great! It just loses the whole "scary-torture" effect when you're using the vocabulary of a toddler."

"Oh..."

"But it was cool when you said the Spanish one!"

"Really?!"

"Yeah, it made it seem more like a spell."

"Yeah, I was debating on whether to use that one or not."

"Nice. Soooo...what do we do now?"

KABOOM!

"What was that?"

"The broom just fell. I'll get it...GASP!"

"What? What?"

"Look...on...the...handle..."

"A product of...GASP!"

"Glover Industries."

DUM DUM DUUUUUUUMMMMMM!

We never knew what it was that made the broom suddenly tip over that cold October night. Was it the wind? A mouse? Could be. Or it could have been something else...something beyond our control...all I know is, after we had thrown the doll out of our sight and vowed never to do magic again for as long as we lived, something had not felt the same way we did. For the following morning, as I strolled into Room #341 and prepared myself for another one of Ms. Glover's painfully lulling lectures, I noticed that the woman standing at the front of the classroom was not Ms. Glover.

"Good morning, class. Ms. Glover will be out today due to a severe...STOMACH ACHE."

DUM DUM DUUUUUUUMMMMMM!!!