prologuaaaaaaaaaghhhehruhgh

"You're hired!"

These are the two universal buzzwords that would light up a totally-not-desperate-unemployed-who-doesn't-want-to-be-homeless-and-get-stabbed-in-the-middle-of-the-night man's heart and eyes. Such was the case for Ken Troden. A man who didn't waste four fulfilling years on a useless degree. A man of passion's passion, a master of resumes and a master of sending an application to every nearby school.

"--for a substitute temporary position, you focking twat. Welcome to Oakwood Park Academy, brother."

Damn it.

"Seriously?" Ken asked. "T-Thank you, master! I'm really g-grateful!"

Is not what he said.

"FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU I ASKED FOR A PERMANENT POSITION!" said Ken, bawling his eyes out, tears and snout comically dripping from the orifices.

And not that as well.

Silence is subtext. Ken affably smiled at the principal, offering the soundwaves of the air as his token of gratitude. The rotund principle smiled back, and he extended a hand.

Ken internally frothed.

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK! Well, that's okay.

"Sir? Are you gonna shake my hand or not?" 

"No-- I mean yes!"

First time. First day... Nothing could go wrong, and substitute teachers get paid lots more than permanent douchebags anyway, am I right?

Anyway, this is what Ken Troden's first day was like.

Stay up at 1 AM talking to a wall and monotonously introducing yourself to the class, but blushing like an anime girl every time he flubs his line. Wake up at 4 AM in the morning. Brush your teeth. Eat a slice of bacon. Drive your Honda Civic to the school's parking lot. A cup of coffee by the coffee trailer and coffee man.

REPORT TO THE PRINCIPAL OFFICE.

"Alright, maggot, you'll be assigned to a year 7 math class in the H block in the morning and some more classes throughout the day. Also, it's the dumbest class ever, so good luck, soldier. Now go," said the chubby principal. 

"Okay."

Ken checked his phone as he walked out of the office and onto the courtyard, his thumbs navigating his screen UI to the school's timetable. Fresh air tinted with sunlight inhaled through his nostrils. The sound of happiness, laughter, and teenage giggles travelled to his eardrums approximately at 343 meters per second. He raised his eyes from the phone and scoured the courtyard. Little year sevens in their little gangs. People playing handballs. And, of course, the cerulean sky, like the good ol' days except the little year sevens. 

Calculations appeared everywhere he looked. Math is useless, they say, tsk, tsk, tsk.

That's one way to make use of my schizophrenia. 

Ken sighed and looked down at his phone.

"Tsk." 

He tilted the palm holding his phone, abating the flare reflecting in its mirror and thereby adjusting the angle of inclination. Looking through the school's timetable, mentally memorising the location and time of the other classes the principal mentioned he'd to be punctual of. 

A little kid came up to him.

"Eshay bah!"

Ken glared down at the little shit. Toothy grin, misaligned front teeth, and acne everywhere. He resisted the urge to divide him by zero and deeply exhaled, looking around.

"Fuck," he quietly muttered to himself.

__________________

RING, RING, RING!

9:00 AM.

The beginning of doomsday. 

Ken steepled his hands on the teacher's desk, pores slightly ajar, cheeks clammy with perspiration. Waiting for the little kids to show up, that's all. What could go wrong?

First day, first second.

First child.

The children entered the classroom in a single file line, glued to their phone screens and dispersing to sit on their allocated row of seats. All of them.

What the hell?

He stood up, shuffling his feet on the floor to draw attention to himself. No one paid attention to him. All he heard was, "skidibi toilet ohio gyatt rizzler kai cenat," said the most Alvin chipmunk voice ever... on repeat.

Ken's eyelids twitched. He feigned a smile and cleared his throat. One kid looked at him from his phone to his soul. Parched, red eyes, either he was on crack, or he had pulled up an all-nighter... I don't know, beating his meat to whatever insidious mindless media consumption he was consuming, partially due to the testosterone generated by puberty, if those kids have any... 

 "Gentlemen," Ken said. "Take out your math notebooks. I heard your teacher left you some work."

"Shut up," a frail kid said. 

Ken raised a brow into his forehead.

"S-sorry... I didn't quite hear that. What did you say?"

"Shut. Up." The frail kid stood up. "I can do whatever I want."

Ken sat down and folded his arms on the desk, leaning in. He sighed. He wasn't surprised as he half-expected this and did not.

"Oh yeah?" He said. "Go to the principal office, now--"

"I am the alpha, and you are the beta male!" the frail kid shouted. Some other kids looked up from their phones and simultaneously stared at Ken's soul. The frail kid continued.

"You will NOT tell me what to do. You are the embodiment of a weak, pathetic… beta cuck, nnnghh… JEFFREY!"

"Mewing. He's not mewing guys," another kid chimed in. Ken watched in horror as the kid showed off his profile and traced his nonexistent jawline with his index finger. 

"Wow, that is so ohioooo~."

"Bro is just a simple, stupid substitute teacher 💀."

"gyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaatt!"

Uh huh. Yeah.

A nerve bulged in Ken's forehead. He tried his best to maintain his smile. He had to employ the profound strategy he gained from a Reddit subthread now. Ken plugged in his laptop and connected it to the screen's whiteboard.

In this day of modern technology and the internet...

He continuously tapped on his laptop's mouse pad. Blue light flashed on his weary, saggy brows, eyes and lips.

He opened a new tab. Opened TikTok.

Searched Subway Surfers. 

And played the video on a loop connected to the whiteboard. Now, according to calculations, if this works...

You can only teach with brain rot against brain rot.

Ken raised his eyes from the laptop's monitor to the kids. He whistled like he'd just seen a baddie's ample rump. Perfect. All the kids had their heads and eyes detached from their phones, mesmerised by the perfect, steady load of information and stream of dopamine exacerbating the ruins of their dopamine receptors. It's like he had all the power and control in the world. 

"Kuk..." Ken let out a chuckle.

Oops. A-Almost let it all out…

"KUHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHA!" Ken stood up and sent his throat full throttle. He'd found the method. The secret. The tree and fruit of knowledge. Now it's time to shit on those stupid kids.

"Oi," Ken pointed at the frail kid. Drool dripped from his lips as he flusteredly looked around before stopping his eyes at him.

"H-huh?"

Ken narrowed his eyes.

"What's one plus one?"

"Uh… Uhhhhhh…"

A white magic circle abruptly glowed beneath Ken's feet. It seemed to whistle, too, from the view it had of Ken's ass. Ken alarmingly looked down.

"Kya!-- wait wtf." His smile twitched as he furiously blushed. 

Oh shit. Wait.

Then everything went white.