One of my craziest high school memories is one that is hard to believe. It was my sophomore year of high school. I was working hard to complete an English assignment that I had just started. This is for one of the hardest teachers I have ever had, Mr. Monty. As I am finishing my intro paragraph for this essay, Mr. Monty appears in my room. I could hear him breathing behind me with heavy breaths. I turned around and was startled by his appearance. Mr. Monty’s head was huge. His nose was red, like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. My teacher’s hair was greasy, and looked wet as if he used too much hair gel. His dress shirt was really tight, and his muscles were nearly popping the buttons right off. This man’s eyes are opened as wide as they can go. He sits there staring at me as if he wants to say something. Finally, as I’m finishing a sentence, he said, “Are you sure that’s a good opening hook?” This is typical of Mr. Monty to say because opening hooks are not my strongest area in writing, and he would give me a hard time about them. Suddenly, his wife appeared on his shoulder. She had always bragged about her being a better teacher, and used to give Mr. Monty a hard time about his teaching methods or his assignments. Only this time, my teacher’s wife didn’t say a word. She just stood there and stared at him with crossed arms. After what seemed like forever, she yelled, “At least help this student with his middle paragraphs!” Then like magic, Mrs. Monty disappeared into thin air.

Mr. Monty walked over to my desk and pointed to one of my paragraphs. As he began to speak, his words started to slur, and the volume of his voice kept varying from super quiet to screaming. He also was talking in varied pitches. One word his voice would be super deep, and then the next word he sounded as squeaky as a teenage boy going through puberty. Eventually, his voice became stuck in a helium tone. Frustrated at this, my teacher’s face was bright red from embarrassment, and his hands shaking from nervousness at what is happening. He began to scream at the top of his lungs. I told him to calm down, but it only seemed to make matters worse. To prevent him from going out of control, I ran and grabbed my car carrier from when I used to take him to the veterinarian, and with a little bit of effort, shoved my teacher into the cage and locked it. At the bottom of this container is cat feces. Mr. Monty is nearly throwing up and screaming at me to let him out. Amused by my power over him I placed my teacher outside my front door on the stairs. I then proceeded to shut the door and lock it. Now I can finish my assignment in peace.