Westbury Academy Boy’s School Murders
The Westbury Academy Boys School (or WABS as it’s known) is like Hogwarts if you replaced wizards with cunts and it’s where I teach English to a bunch of boyishly haircutted, ugly smirking, future banker types whose fathers are all assholes and whose mothers are all whores. There is no exception, there is no scholarship student with redeeming qualities who over the years gains the respect and admiration of his peers. Just a school full of lucky pricks with huge flat screen HD LCD TVs in their rooms. Perhaps the worst subject to teach is the one I’m paid ridiculously large amounts to teach to these seething pubescent furious masturbators because deep within their brainwashed mind they have come to understand that ‘English’; words, poems, or more accurately made up fiction is (a) beneath them (b) of no consequence and (c) cannot possible make you ‘big’ money. While they may be right in all three cases, i.e. (a) not accessible to them (b) philosophically arguable but not in the context they mean and (c) 100% true, and that this explains their general moronic behaviour when attending my lectures, it still does not excuse them from inciting me to slit each and every one of their throats during the night and in doing so know that I have made the future I plan on living in marginally better. The first ‘house boy’ I killed was a fifteen your old podge-faced red head, a crown to sole freckled little asshole. Nothing worse than an ugly chubby ginger scoffing at Kafka, so naturally I made the clever, life affirming move to mix in some/a lot of granulated sulfuric acid in with his white sugar the fat fuck heaped liberally on his wheat bix every morning. He actually managed to get through Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday like that, coughing and spluttering and otherwise woofing those bix down, not really caring that his insides were disintegrating and, god be praised, was too ashamed to tell anyone about the blood he was shitting out. Thursday was different, he didn’t feel like eating but, you know, the combination of peer pressure and general gluttony made him take that fourth and final bowl. Oh he got through it, sure, but lets just say I didn’t see him in fourth period English.
I just realised how horrible and animalistic and simple I must sound. Instead of going back and editing and perhaps all together deleting all of that I think it more pertinent to describe my situation more clearly. And again, no, I wasn’t harassed or had eggs thrown at me or whatever other horribly devastating things these low-level leaders of tomorrow could imagine would actually hurt a person, no, nothing like that. This is more of a…a…correction, to the world. I would be remiss in my duties as a teacher, a leader, a guide to these young men if I was to simply release these creatures into the world unschooled, unaware, unwittingly free to become the people we despise tens of years on throughout existence. And lets face it, if WABS, given its heritage, is in fact the breeding ground for future Ministers and Kings and CEOs then, yes, there should be some kind of test, some kind of conditions in which they are allowed to progress to such integral positions that affect all of everyone else. Right?
The term super hero has been, I mean, really misused and pretty much claimed by both the comic book kingdom and Neitzsche. Oh and god no I am not pretending I am a super hero, a regular hero? No not even. Let’s forget I opened with that. What I want you to understand is that, okay, imagine if there was a way to prevent the horrors of tomorrow’s bad decisions from every happening? Okay? And that’s what I’m doing. I’m stopping the worst people from progressing to their falsely pre-ordained if-the-shoe-fits roles that, ultimately, will end in the destruction of everyone/thing. Some part inside of you is agreeing I know, I know. I don’t like it either, hell, I strangled a thirteen year old down in the laundry room! How do you think I feel! It’s not about that though and I know, all you have to do is nod a tiny little bit and we can move on. Can I get a little nod? Not to killing children god no. I’m not about that at all. I just think you and I can agree that, hey, perhaps some of these undeserving close minded ‘borne to be leaders’ types, perhaps, maybe, actually don’t deserve to and worse shouldn’t ever be leaders.
Examples. Of course. Bradley McPherson (no relation to Elle). Oh my god you should have seen him (yes dead now). He looked forty five already, a nice round paunch, receding hairline, double chin! Really, a more suitable candidate for General Manager I have never seen. And he was sixteen! And this appearance, this sluggish gait and general under-qualified-but-a-prick-anyway demeanour wasn’t scolded, it was respected and (get ready to vomit) celebrated! He was awarded ‘most likely to succeed’, ‘leader of the debating team’, ‘executive on the student council’, ‘advisor to the bursar on excessive spending’ (after his year eleven ‘thesis’ on profitable school management). I mean, he cut off about 65% off gratuitous spending for students and was applauded. Now I mean, these are the people I am dealing with here, knowingly serving the body corporate, instinctually forgoing services in aid of revenue, approving negligent cut backs for the sake of shareholder (namely, their parents’) investments. I mean, to deliberately cut off your own amusement for the good of the insular economy of one (namely WABS) is existentially insane. He had to go.
Now as a teacher this one students’ contributions to the school did not disadvantage me at all, in fact, they actually heightened the luxury spending for the faculty because of the un-forecasted profits returned to the school. We have the most comfortable staff room in the country, replate with leather bound armoires, fully stocked libraries with many first editions, state of the art technology and 18 hour access to a fully stocked kitchen with a full time staff of eight. No, the exorbitance is not (or never) the problem in such regimes. It’s the complex balance between haves and have nots, the blatant disregard for your fellow man which results in a gluttonous over compensation for the ‘overlords’ coupled with the fact that this ingenious thinking is welcomed by those meagre individuals who (a) have been deprived and (b) see there depravation as directly enhancing their superiors, and worst (c) applaud and respect this outcome because in their mind they are working their way up to become the fat pigs in the upper echelons who will be rewarded in the end from cutting off and depriving the ‘lower class’ from receiving what they deserve or even what they had as a necessity.
Can I let you in on a secret? I really enjoyed this one way I dispatched this little bucktoothed capitalist prim-and-proper kid. I know it’s horrible to say but hear me out. In my position I was able to use the god-tool of grades to persuade this Bradley (no, it was not abbreviated to Brad for his friends, well, no one really had friends here, associates…yes they say that) that he needed help to up his English grade so that he could get into Harvard Business School. Almost instantly and without questioning (even though several of his housemates have died mysteriously) he agreed to meet me at seven pm in my office to negotiate a way to increase his grade. He arrived at seven on the dot, plonked a briefcase on my desk and opened it, clearly having watched too many movies, unclasped the locks and revealed, I don’t know maybe twenty or thirty thousand dollars in cash (all fifties…what the fuck is wrong with these kids?).
“Ah Brad., that’s…”
“Bradley”
“Yes, Brad, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. You know that you, and several of your classmates, aren’t really doing well in my class and…”
“Who else?”
“Brad, it’s not about that”
“Bradley. And maybe you’re a shit teacher then? Maybe I should report you to the board?”
“The board? There’s no board Brad. It’s the faculty. You’re not in business yet son”
“I’m not your…”
“Shut up I knew you’d say that, that’s way I said ‘son’. That’s why I keep saying Brad. Do you get it?”
“No…I…”
“Of course not. I’ll tell you why, Brad. Subtlety. Subtlety. One word, very simple, but completely lost on all of you. You see Brad, you don’t care what you look or sound like, you just want results, is that true?”
“Well…yes…I came here with, this bag and…”
“Yes I know, and this the point Brad. Ahhhh let me think”
And after that I went to my drawer, and pulled out a long knife and was trying to pretend to explain something about life and fear and culture but was really just trying to get closer to him and when I was close enough I just sank it into his heart. Funny really, it just goes in. He actually looked up at me and then looked down at the knife and then died. There was blood everywhere and I rolled him up in the rug and dragged him into my en-suite. I didn’t know what to do so I went back to my room. Here’s the good part, the very god damned next day the police came and I, naturally was panicked out of my mind, I mean, there was a dead fat boy in my bathroom but what happened next was they shut down the school, all the boys returned to their rooms and the announcement was made to staff that Henry Thompson, Religious Instructor and Pastor, was being arrested for child sex offences and that he was responsible for the missing boys of late and that investigations were ongoing. Yay!
