Mr. King was in a cabinet, two miles in the air.
Mr. King didn’t want to be, but he knew deep down inside that he was in fact a pedo. He tried not be, very hard he tried. He actually never acted out on his pedo thoughts and feelings. He just knew that it was a matter of time before he slipped into what the state of Maine called, “illegal”.
What made this even more trying for Mr. King was the fact that he was a high school English teacher. After being fired from Hampden Academy for using the “N” word repeatedly, he looked all over for a teaching job while selling his short stories of the macabre to magazines across the country. He finally landed at a high school whose name has been redacted.
Mr. King was twenty-four years old and because of his geographical monopoly on age and gender with the faculty, he was the best looking twenty-four year out the high school. The female members of the faculty would giggle and blush when he spoke with them and the old men who had tenure, despised his youth. The female students really took a shine to him as well. So much so, they would catch him up in double entendres in class that would leave him sweating and red as a tomato.
Young girls would always come into his class during his free period on the pretense to get help with a problem from his curriculum. This made him extremely nervous and he would jump up and run to the door to make sure it was open. He would also try to keep one of the boys in his class during his free period if he knew one of the female students would be coming in.
The strange thing about this was that Mr. King wanted to act out on his feelings. He even took all the shelves out of the large cabinet in the back of the class, the one that he was in at this very moment, in case he ever had the perfect opportunity to take one of his female students in there. He got the idea from his own high school English teacher, Mr. Hunter, who constantly took the girls form his class in the cabinet. What happened in there was anyones guess, but the young Mr. King used to day dream about it all the time.
Because of these feelings he had, that he knew were wrong and he knew were illegal in redacted state, he always felt a sense of impending doom. He couldn’t shake it. He always felt that that cabinet would be the thing that ended his life as he knew it. He would stay after school sometimes and stare at it, thinking of all the horrible things he could do while inside of it, and then the beads of sweat would collect on his forehead, his glasses would fog up and his intense sense of guilt would kick in and he would want nothing more that to break the cabinet apart with an ax!
Carrie and Christine were the girls that Mr. King knew would be the ones that would end up in the cabinet with him. They were very flirtatious and if the stories he overheard the boys say in his class were true, they were also very promiscuous. They would constantly try to get his attention in class by pulling their shirts down lower and the skirts ups higher. He knew he shouldn’t look, but he did so anyway. Every time he did, he would get caught by the girls and instead of them being outraged, they would smile and laugh out loud.
On this day, the day that Mr. King was in his cabinet, two miles in the air, he knew Carrie and Christine would be coming by during his free period. They had a final tomorrow and that was all the pretense that they would need. He couldn’t concentrate. He couldn’t focus on anything else. He turned on the radio he kept on his desk to try to take his mind off of it and he couldn’t stand the extra noise. He clicked the radio off just as a special news bulletin was about to come on.
If Mr. King had listened to that report, he wouldn’t be trapped in a cabinet, two miles above the Earth’s crust.
Carrie and Christine walked into the room as Mr. King was wringing the sweat out of a handkerchief.
“Hello, Mr. King,” the girls said in unison.
“Um…Hello.” He starred at them in silence as he toyed with the mathematical equation of it it would be possible for all three of them to fit inside the cabinet. The constant sounds coming out of the mouths of the girls made it difficult for him to do any math at all.
They walked over to his desk, went behind it, on his side of the desk, the only thing that separated him from his potential victims, and they stood on either side of his chair. They leaned over him, their hair brushing against him. The scent of it… The touch of their skin,,,
His mouth dried out. His hands were clammy.
Was this it? Was this the day he would test out his disgusting fantasies and see how many people could fit in his cabinet?
A siren screamed.
“I haven’t done anything yet!” He shouted.
“What’s going on?” Carrie asked.
“It must be that tornado,” Christine said. “I heard that we could have one today but they said it unlikely.”
A man ran by the door and shouted that it wasn’t a drill and that a tornado did in fact touch down not too far from there. Mr. King would never be sure of who that man was.
Mr. King wiped the steam off of his glasses and pointed to his nemesis. “There! Girls, get in that cabinet!”
“Are you sure?” Carrie said, worriedly.
Mr. King smirked and said, “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
The three hurried into to the cabinet and to Mr. King’s dismay, the fit was so tight, that even if he wanted to actually become the legal definition of a pedo, he never would have been able to do it. They were crammed in there like sardines in a can.
The scream of metal ripping apart, wood cracking and glass shattering filled the busy air. That was followed by the deafening screams of Carrie and Christine inside the cabinet. Mr. King tried closing his ears by squinting his eyes.
The cabinet was sucked up into the air at great speed. They were airborne for nearly fifteen minutes before the tornado finally let them go and gravity did it’s job.
Mr. King, never became a pedo.