The Field Trip Part VII

“Mr. Vancouver, come out with your hands raised in the air,” the police officer says over his bullhorn.

“Could you hand me the pimp's hat, Ginny?”

“Thank-you my dear,” I say, taking the hat. “Mr. Pimp this really is a very fancy hat.”

“Fuck-you,” the pimp says and spits on me.

I rear back and kick the pimp in the crotch and then punch him in the mouth. A single gold tooth goes squirting across the floor. Billy follows the tooth across the room, picks it up and eyes it carefully. “You won’t be needing that where you’re going,” I say to the pimp who is now doubled over on the floor. “Peter, please duct tape Mr. Pimp’s mouth shut.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Vancouver,” Peter says.

From his backpack Peter removes a roll of duct tape and goes about taping the pimps mouth shut.

The whore struggles and kicks at her restraints. “When I get outta here I’m gonna put a cap in your ass,” she screams.

“Your stockings have a runner in them,” I say.

The whore claws and kicks at me but it does no good. Peter comes up from behind her and jabs her arm with a syringe and she nods off.

Larry Cutler’s hand shoots up. He’s a product of the American fast food industry, as wide as he is tall with halitosis that would fell a full grown Bull elephant.

“What is it Larry?”

“Mr. Vancouver, you have funny underwear,” Larry says.

The students laugh.

“My wife gave me these before she left me,” I say.

“Why did your wife leave you?” Amber asks.

“Mr. Vancouver, we will ask you again to please come out with your hands above your head,” the police officer yells through the bullhorn.

I walk up to the window and pull the curtain back a smidgen. Outside there are police cars, ambulances, worried parents and of course the media. I let the curtain slide shut.

“My wife left me because she wanted more out of life. I don’t make that much money you see. She wanted to travel and have fancy clothes. She left me for a famous jockey.”

“You mean one of those little skinny guys that ride horses?” Ginny asks.

“Yes, one of those skinny guys that rides horses, Ginny...Billy take the pimps tooth out of your mouth. It’s dirty and in this case we do know where it came from. I wish we didn’t and then I wouldn’t have to worry about you catching a communicable disease.”

“Sir, I have given every student a cup of Kool-Aid,” Peter says.

“Did you mix it just like I asked you to?” I say.

Peter salutes me. “I sure did. It’s got all the special ingredients you wanted.”

“Good boy. Now, I’m going to take Mr. Pimp here and release him,” I say.

“You sick bastard,” the police officer says. “You won’t get away with this.”

“I already have. Now, you just sit back and relax before I jam this cattle prod into your nut sack.” I push the pimp forward, threatening to light him up with the cattle prod if he pulls a fast one. Billy runs up to my side. “What are you doing, Billy?”

“I’m coming with you,” he says. “You’re the only one that ever treated me like a person, Mr. Vancouver.”

“I’m changing that B- to an A+, Billy. When I’m gone you make sure that they give you that A+. It’s the only one you’ve eve gotten.”

“Yes, sir,” Billy says and salutes me.

“Is the explosive device properly attached to the pimp, Peter?”

“Yes, sir,” Peter says.

“Remember if there is any funny stuff I want you to blow the pimp up.”

“Yes, sir,” Peter says.

“Open the doors, Peter,” I say.

Peter obeys and thrusts the doors open. Sunlight overwhelms the room and Billy followed by me and then the pimp walk out onto the sidewalk.

“Release the boy and the pimp,” the police officer barks over the bullhorn.

“When I say duck you duck, Billy.”

“Yes, sir,” Billy says and salutes me with the marble penis.

“Okay, Billy, duck,” I say, pushing him to the ground and falling on top of him.

Shots are fired and a bullet rips through my suit coat just below the heart. Bullets tear through my pants and even one through my brown loafers. I feel nothing but complete and utter joy.

“Cease your firing,” the police officer says over the bullhorn.

Billy and I get up off the sidewalk. The pimp lies dead on the sidewalk in a puddle of blood. My suit, the one he is wearing, is torn to bits.

“Mr. Pimp,” the police officer says over the bullhorn.

“Yes,” I say, tilting the pimp’s hat on my head.

The police officer with the bullhorn slowly raises his gun. He realizes they’ve just shot the wrong man dressed in my clothes.

‘That’s no pimp,” the officer cries. The other officers look confused and are unsure of how to proceed.

I’m quite sure this is the end that my day and life are to be determined here on the sidewalk in front of the school at which I teach. I look down the barrel of the police officer’s gun.

“No,” Billy cries. With a dexterity I didn’t think the boy possessed he rears back and chucks the marble penis at the police officer and to my utter surprise it nails him in his right eye. He falls back in pain against the hood of his cruiser.

Billy and I start to run back to the school. We hear a horrible explosion. We are pelted with pieces of the pimp. Peter must have thought blowing him up would be a good distraction.

I shut the doors behind us and take off the pimp's cape.

“Mr. Vancouver, some of the kids started to drink their Kool-Aid,” Peter says. “I tried to stop them but they wouldn’t listen.”

“Damn you,” I yell. “I told you not to DRINK THE KOOL-AID!”

I rampage through the class room tipping over desks. The children scream and cry.

“I didn’t drink my Kool-Aid, Mr. Vancouver,” Billy says.

“I know you didn’t, Billy. I know you didn’t…and Billy?”

“What Mr. Vancouver. Take the pimp’s tooth out of your mouth.”