by CSyphrett, with Martin Maenza
Joshua Cantrell had endured four agonizing days of detention with the infamous Mrs. Peel. The first day had been a torturous lesson in the art of getting thrown to the ground repeatedly. It certainly hadn’t been pleasant, as he discovered that gravity had a cruel way of reminding you just how hard the earth could be.
The second day had been dedicated to fencing, during which Joshua learned firsthand the excruciating pain of being constantly slapped with the flat of a blade. It seemed that Mrs. Peel had a particular talent for inflicting discomfort.
Chasing golf balls in Mrs. Cable’s natural area had been the task for the third day. Josh couldn’t help but wonder if his punishment was intentionally designed to be more ridiculous than the last. But the pain of crouching down and searching through shrubs for tiny balls was nothing compared to what lay in store for him the following day.
On day four, Joshua had found himself in the relentless pursuit of dodging tennis balls for a grueling two hours. It felt as if Mrs. Peel had taken pleasure in seeing him squirm and suffer, her sadistic tendencies reaching new heights.
With only one more day of this nightmare left, Joshua longed for freedom from Mrs. Peel’s clutches. He couldn’t comprehend why he had been so unfairly sentenced to a whole week with de Sade’s wife, when the first-year Tim Hunter had only received a single day working at the Bestiary with Adam Frankenstein. The injustice of it all gnawed at him, casting a shadow over his already dim prospects.
As Joshua waited near the gym, a putrid stench reached his nostrils. He wrinkled his nose in disgust, searching for the source of the foul odor. His eyes scanned the area, trying to pinpoint the origin of the offensive smell.
Suddenly, Mrs. Emma Peel emerged from around the corner, clad in her customary attire of black athletic clothes, along with a tank equipped with a sprayer, and a gas mask obscuring her otherwise lovely face. Joshua’s heart sank at the sight of her, knowing full well that his suffering was about to escalate.
Mrs. Peel declared with an air of authority, her voice muffled by the gas mask, “You have five seconds to start running, young man.”