Unprincipaled
by Stephen Sottong
About the author:
Stephen Sottong lives in beautiful northern California behind the Redwood Curtain. A full list of publications is at: stephensottong.com
Stephen Sottong lives in beautiful northern California behind the Redwood Curtain. A full list of publications is at: stephensottong.com
Principal Taylor was a dapper dresser. Even on the hottest days he wore a sports coat and carried his cane to his job at Jefferson Junior High. Today the short, mustached man walked quickly through fallen leaves. He was late. Someone had let the air out of the tires of his prize new, red 1990 Mercury Cougar. He walked the mile to school and approached the front door at a crisp clip. Opening it briskly, he ascended the eight steps of the entryway stairs two at a time. At the top step, the baboon attacked.
I watched from the doorway as Miguel struggled to move the massive desk. Despite his being a solid, well-muscled man for all his fifty-some year, the desk refused to budge. I offered to help, but Miguel was of that old school that wouldn't allow a lady to engage in something as strenuous as moving a monstrous old piece of furniture. Not that I would have been much assistance — at sixty years old and five feet tall, all I could honestly hope to offer was encouragement.
Miguel lowered himself to the floor and examined the legs of the desk. "When was the last time this was moved, ma'am?"
"It hasn't been moved in the 18 years I've been principal. I suspect it's been in that same position since Principal Taylor acquired it."
Miguel pulled out a pocket-knife and scraped at the tile floor around the desk leg. "There must be twenty years of wax buildup. No wonder I couldn't move it." He moved from one leg to the next, freeing them from their encasement. "I never understood why he wanted such a big desk."
"He was rather a small man. I think he used the size of the desk to intimidate the students. I'm sorry to put you through this, Miguel, but my replacement thinks it takes up too much room sitting in the middle of the office."
Miguel didn't look up from his scraping. "He's right. I just wish he offered to help move it."
I laughed. "He is a good deal younger than either of us."
Miguel scraped for a while in silence. "I'm sorry to see you go, ma'am."
"I'm not sorry to leave. The students are more than I can handle any more. Having a young man who looks like he spends time in a gym as their principal should be good for discipline."
Miguel got up slowly and opened the top, right hand desk drawer and placed both hands under the top lip of the drawer, preparing to pull. Something within the desk clicked and a side panel popped open. I pulled the panel back, revealing a chamber
I watched from the doorway as Miguel struggled to move the massive desk. Despite his being a solid, well-muscled man for all his fifty-some year, the desk refused to budge. I offered to help, but Miguel was of that old school that wouldn't allow a lady to engage in something as strenuous as moving a monstrous old piece of furniture. Not that I would have been much assistance — at sixty years old and five feet tall, all I could honestly hope to offer was encouragement.
Miguel lowered himself to the floor and examined the legs of the desk. "When was the last time this was moved, ma'am?"
"It hasn't been moved in the 18 years I've been principal. I suspect it's been in that same position since Principal Taylor acquired it."
Miguel pulled out a pocket-knife and scraped at the tile floor around the desk leg. "There must be twenty years of wax buildup. No wonder I couldn't move it." He moved from one leg to the next, freeing them from their encasement. "I never understood why he wanted such a big desk."
"He was rather a small man. I think he used the size of the desk to intimidate the students. I'm sorry to put you through this, Miguel, but my replacement thinks it takes up too much room sitting in the middle of the office."
Miguel didn't look up from his scraping. "He's right. I just wish he offered to help move it."
I laughed. "He is a good deal younger than either of us."
Miguel scraped for a while in silence. "I'm sorry to see you go, ma'am."
"I'm not sorry to leave. The students are more than I can handle any more. Having a young man who looks like he spends time in a gym as their principal should be good for discipline."
Miguel got up slowly and opened the top, right hand desk drawer and placed both hands under the top lip of the drawer, preparing to pull. Something within the desk clicked and a side panel popped open. I pulled the panel back, revealing a chamber
Like the sample? Read the whole story in the Summer 2021 issue of Guilty Crime Story Magazine!
