Smells Like Demon Spirit
Chapter 3

He stared hesitantly at the contents of the glass he was holding. Its foul, rotten stench wafted up his nose as he sniffed hesitantly. Disgusted, Zorton beat down the urge to retch as he looked at the other chemical. It had a bright, obscenely bright, purple color to it that left a burn in his eyes.
Corners of his mouth twitching down, he looked at the brown chemical again. Its ugly color and stench matched its awful consistency as he shook it.
The strange substance started to bubble as he did so, and, with a touch of panic that he would never reveal, he poured the other chemical in to make it stop. Good thing his head was hard.

* * *

Frya sighed as another student nodded off to sleep as one sitting in the front row cursed and swore. The class, bluntly, was horrible. No one wanted to listen and they were rather unkind, and as she thought about it, she frowned. Had she done something wrong?
She paused in her lesson about grammar and sent a quick death glare to the cussing student.
A large explosion rocked the very foundations of the Earth, the cause of her pause, and she could smell a strange scent of an experiment gone horribly, horribly wrong. Her mind wandered back to when Zorton had accepted to be a "Science" teacher.
Paling, she forced a weak smile at the class and a quick, "Be gone for a minute," as she grabbed the doorknob to the classroom and attempted to pull it open. It didn't budge.
Twisting it again, she placed her feet on either side of the door and pulled. She could hear wood splinter, but it still didn't budge. Frown deepening, she pressed her forehead against the glass and looked down. She saw a large metal barricade in front of the door.
"What?! They locked me in?!" She screeched before curses that would make the student from before blush, and did, rolled out of her mouth.
Taking a breath, she looked at her class, then back at the barricade and muttered, "Well, I can see why. Every teacher from before must have run out of here in fear or been fired for murder."
Her mind went back to Zorton and she scowled, not liking the feeling that she couldn't do anything.
Grumbling in annoyance, she stalked to the front row and glared an icy death glare at the rude student. He gulped and quickly shut his mouth, hiding the paper airplane he'd been about to throw.
"Shut. Your. Face." She said shortly, scowl deepening as she grabbed the paper airplane. Her glare was so fierce that the student thought that she would set it on fire just from her gaze.
And she did too, completely disobeying the fine laws of science.
Dropping the burning paper onto his desk uncaringly, she pivoted shortly and walked stiffly back to her desk. Frya's hand reached under the wood and groped around before finding what she was looking for.
She brought out the cloth-covered package from under her desk and walked towards the offending door. Uncovering it, several, well, the few that were awake, gasped at the sight of a long, metal sword.
Eyes narrowing, she called out, frustrated, "Klinges des Feuers!" The entire sword, besides the hilt, burst into a crackling flame.
Without hesitating, she rammed forward and swung her sword into the wood with a mighty swing, completely splintering everything in her path. Shards of the door showered the classroom.
She breathed in and then out, blowing a fragment from its perch on her nose, then brushed off her pants.
"Well, that takes care of that," she said happily, completely catching everyone off guard as she jumped over the metal.
Silence was left in the classroom; the only sound was the slight plunk as a chunk of wood hit the floor.
Finally, one student called out, "Whoo! Free period!"
Cheers greeted that and the whole class turned to mayhem, and those sleeping magically awoke as if they never HAD been asleep before. Some danced on the desks and a few even jumped out the window in happiness. I suppose that they forgot that they were on the third floor, and that the window in question faced a busy street.
Needless to say, the principal wasn't happy when he walked into it, hearing complaints about a rather loud class.

* * *

Frya raced down the hallway towards the awful stench, and eventually saw a room with its whole wall blown out, and she could literally see the fumes wafting out of it.
She dodged a few panicking students and leaped over the remains of the wall to find the oddest sight she had ever seen in her entire life.
Zorton was sitting on the ground, sobbing as he fingered the burnt ends of his spiky hair, curled up in a fetal position.
"My hair! My beautiful hair! Meine Liebe! Meine Liebe!" He said in between sobs.
For a moment, she simply stood there, disturbed deeply by Mr. I-Don't- Give-A-Crap-About-Anything's crying. Never in her years of traveling with him had he cried. Well, there WAS that time where the little space monkey had destroyed his first gun, but he said to forget about that and it was an odd story anyway.
"Hey, Mr. I'm-So-Tough himself is crying! And over hair, no less!" A student called out jeeringly as he leaned against the wall in a superior manner.
The whole room went quiet, and even the man, er, demon in question's weeping had stopped. He looked around nervously as if asking, "Was that a little TOO superior?" "Of course it was, stupid," the looks at him seemed to say.
Slowly, Zorton lowered his hands from his singed hair and stood up, sniffing a bit, then looked at the student with a death glare that put the one Frya had used to make the paper airplane spontaneously combust to shame.
The glare was of such intensity that it set the student's head on fire, and he ran around screaming, "Help me! Help MEEEEEEE!! MY HAIR IS TOO YOUNG TO DIE! TOO YOUNG I SAY!" before he eventually ran into a wall and fell unconscious.
No one said anything, until one bold girl said, "Finally. That idiot was getting annoying." Murmurs of agreement rose, and then finally turned into "Hurray!"s at their teacher.
Zorton rubbed his eyes, crossed his arms, and smirked. Turning, he saw Frya, then his smirk widened, saying confidently, "And THAT, Miss I-Bet- I-Can-Teach-A-Class-Better-Than-You-Can, is how you teach a class." He turned back to the students and raised his voice slightly so he could be heard over the applause, "And that is a lesson about never to mix brown disgusting liquid, if it can be called that, with obscenely bright purple liquid."
Some would be saved later on in their lives from that one lesson.

* * *

Terri rubbed her temples again, annoyed at the stupid equations in front of her. They didn't need any of this back on her planet! Why did she need to teach it now?
Attempting to once again, and failing, conquer the headache she felt coming, she wrote the equation in the textbook on the board, then looked back to all the students sitting in their chairs. Raising an eyebrow, she scoffed softly to herself.
"Some dump of a school this is," she said to herself. "Are they used to just sleeping with no one doing anything about it? Well, we'll just have to change that."
She smirked. Evilly. It was so evilly evil evil, that she put Zorton's, or Zorty's, to shame.
The frying pan from the previous day materialized out of nowhere again, and she slinked forward, careful not to wake her sleeping class. Ever so slowly, she raised the pan to the side, then brought it swinging in to hit one student in the side of the head.
A large "pang" interrupted the silence, but no one moved, not even the student who was hit.
Eyebrows drawing together, she lifted her head by the nose cautiously, and let it drop back onto the desk with a plunk. The way they were sleeping, Terri may have been acquiesced to think they were dead if she knew for a fact that they weren't.
She grumbled to herself in annoyance and wondered how she could wake all her sleeping beauties. Smirking as she got an idea, she stuffed her hand in her pocket and pulled out a random object that had been there for no apparent reason, but served its purpose to this particular plot, so the authoress just decided to put it there for her convenience.
Terri pulled out a small, metallic object vaguely reminiscent to a whistle, only it had no slot and didn't make noise when she shook it. Putting it to her lips, she blew as hard as she could, and a loud, shrill noise that was far louder than a whistle's attacked the students' ears. The noise was so loud that the windows cracked and shattered. Of course, the entire incident would be blamed on a chipmunk somehow, but let's not go there.
Jerking upwards, everyone awoke, then looked to see their math teacher magically disappear and reappear in army clothing. Dog chains hung around her neck, and her brow was furrowed as her mouth was turned down in a fine scowl. Combat boots donned her feet. She placed her hands behind her back and paced in front of the class before targeting one student.
"And just WHAT do you think you were doing, sleeping in MY class, private?" She asked in the tone a general would use.
"Um. . .I'm not in the ar-"
"Do not rebut my logic, mortal fiend!" Standing rather imposingly now, Terri stood with large black wings and grew about a foot in height. Two red horns sprouted out of her head, and a pitchfork covered in fire was in her hand, somehow not burning her hand.
Okay, the student was really confused now. His teacher went from quiet math teacher to army general and now to devil-type person with wings.
"Wha? Aren't-Aren't we all m-mortal in this c-class?" he stuttered.
Gasping, she pointed accusingly and screamed, "A non-believer! YOU SHALL BE PUNISHED FOR YOUR DISBELIEF!"
He drew his eyebrows together before complete fear washed over him. All thoughts of how odd his teacher was raced out and were replaced by absolute fear of the demonic presence in front of him.
"You shall be punished by. . .The great doom-bringer of DEATH!" With a cackle, she disappeared in a puff of smoke and reappeared holding the arm of a confused man holding a History textbook.
"Um, Terr, are you in one of your.*moods*.again?" Sallutier asked her in a hushed voiced.
"Do not question me!" She said harshly under her breath in a demonic voice, and lightning flashed even though it was a clear day. Everyone heard the whisper anyway. Turning back to the class, she said loudly, "You shall all see the Doom-Bringer of Death punish this foolish, disbelieving mortal!"
Waving his hands in front of him, textbook and all, he said meekly, "Whoa, whoa, I'm no Doom-Bringer of Death. I'm just a guy trying to teach a History class before you came out of nowhere and grabbed me!"
Under her breath, Terri said through her teeth, "Play. A. Long. I'm trying to teach the class in a rather interesting way that will at least keep them awake."
"What does this have to do with math?" He asked in bewilderment.
"Shut up and move," she snapped back almost inaudibly.
He was confused, but decided not to argue with her and tucked his textbook into some random dimension rip. Clearing his voice, he said in a low, deep, doom bringing voice, "Yes! I shall now punish this foolish mortal for ever doubting!"
Leaning over slightly, Sallutier asked her, "What do I do now?" while barely moving his mouth.
"Just do something random - I'll help out."
He figured that she would use some of that random magic-out-of- nowhere again, then stalked forward to the "disbelieving mortal fiend." Holding his hand above him, he yelled, "Let the power of the immortal rid you of your 'stylish' clothes and replace them with something that shows your TRUE inner self!"
Terri smirked as she got an idea, and contained her snickers as she made the student disappear and reappear with a frilly pink dress on. The entire class burst into laughter as Mr. Cool blushed.
"I'm not girly! Really!" He shouted desperately.
"Then what is this?" Terri asked condescendingly as she held a notebook with "Diary" and "Flower Power" and "Girl Power!" written all over it in large bubble letters. Opening it, she read in a mock tone of voice, "Like omigosh, there was, like, this jock, and, like, he walked up to me and said, 'Hey man,' and I was like, 'Hi,' and it was like omigosh! LOL ROFL U R TEH GEY LOLZ!!2!2!!!112!2! OMG DD U C THT NU BRIT SPEARS ALBUM?!/212 SHES LIEK MY EYEDOL LOL!2!!2!" She even pronounced the ones, twos, at signs, and horrible misspellings correctly.
"I can't even decipher that," Sallutier muttered to himself.
"I NEVER WROTE THAT!" The student screamed, blushing heavily.
Suddenly, everything disappeared, including the lightning, Terri's demonic clothing, and the frilly pink dress. The 'Doom-bringer of Death' also was transported back to his own class, but not before he said under his breath, "I don't see why your class is so difficult; my class is full of angels!"
"Now," She said, going back into teaching mode, "Can anyone tell me the odds against * that *actually happening?"
A student with glasses on and tape around the middle raised his hand hesitantly. After getting a nod from her, he said, "1,866,773,439.3 repeating to 1, give or take a few values."
"Excellent!" She said happily, then clapped her hands once. "Now then," she grinned, snapping her fingers to bring a textbook out of nowhere. "Please open your textbooks to page 331. You will see that they completely do the math wrong and give us the wrong odds, as Mr. . ."
"T-Tai," he stuttered, blushing at the looks everyone was giving him.
"Right. Mr. Tai would tell us. . ."
The class continued on in a similar manner, and none of the students fell asleep again.
Sallutier's class had been fairly average over all, amazingly, and Frya had a nice lecture from the principal about not leaving a class to its own devices. Zorton's class was mainly about how his Molekül-Schmeltze worked, and the students' respect for him grew.
All in all, it may have been chaotic, but it wasn't a bad first day.