The Lesson by Wity Idgara

The Lesson

Chaos ruled okay in the classroom,
As bravely the teacher walked in.
The hooligans ignored him,
His voice was lost in the din.

“The theme for today is violence
And homework will be set.
I’m going to teach you a lesson.
One you will never forget.”

He picked on a boy who was shouting
And throttled him then and there.
Then garrotted the girl behind him
The one with the greasy hair.

Then sword in hand he hacked his way
Between the chattering rows.
“First come, first severed’ he declared
‘Fingers, feet or toes.”

He threw the sword at a late comer,
It struck with deadly aim.
Then pulling out a shotgun
He continued with his game.

The first blast cleared the back row,
Where those who skive hang out.
They dropped like rubber dinghies
After the plugs pulled out.

“Please may I leave the room sir? ”
A trembling young vandal enquired.
“Of course you may” said the teacher
Put the gun to his temple and fired.

The head popped a head round the corner
To see why a din was being made.
He nodded understandably
Then tossed in a hand grenade.

And when the ammo was spent
And there was blood on every chair,
Silence shuffled forward
With its hands up in the air.

The teacher surveyed the carnage,
The dying and the dead
He waggled a finger severely
“Let that be a lesson” he said.

-Wity Idgara -

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