WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOo by Anonymous

Nov 18, 2015

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOo
It isnt normal. Those sounds she makes. It bellows from within and rises
through the air like a kite on high. Eurgh. Its monday. That means Ill have a
lesson with her. And that bitch Sue is annoying, but that Freds ok, albeit a bit
too quiet. Thats why Im the target. Every day I get called a pest
9:00
The school bell (buzzer, horn, trumpet, trombone, bassoon, hooter, contrabass saxophone, virtual noise machine, ringding?) goes off 5 minutes too
early. I feel like Im living in the past and future simultaneously. We grab our
bags and walk, uniformly, to the study room. Last week we stained the whiteboards with mathematical blood, Im sure Shell have something to say about
that.
9:03
Were here. Alone. Sues telling me im short. I fucking know Sue, you
slag. Joe looks around aimlessly, his mother behind, cuppa tea in hand. Where
is SHE though?. We just kicked out the gay nazi and his friends, but where is
SHE? Joe, do you know? No. Oh. Well, guess we must wait. Sue flicks her
bag onto the table and lets out a sigh. Something in the air is different. Its
warmer, and its not just the heat coming from the coffee (tea, I dont fucking
know). Maybe its the giant server thing, droning on endlessly through gigabytes
of network data.
9:10
I just hit Sue and tweeted it. Two favourites. Great. Joe is drawing a
cube on the board. The joke is old now, stop. She has been late before, but
usually her network of ravens has informed us of that before hand. The cofftea
has gone very cold, no thermal energy from the brownian motion of particles
within it anymore. Absolute Zero.
Weve been talking about how amazing we are at maths and how sad it
is that we have 12x1090 exams this year.Through all of this, though, I could
hear a fourth voice. Distant, faint, but present. The lights feel brighter, and
the conversation turns to another in-joke. I think, once you have more than 10
in-jokes, they stop being jokes and become signs of insanity. Such is maths.
9:25
We have given up. Sue and Joe are looking down at me (of course, the
bastardy skyscrapers), and tutting about how that was our only lesson. We try
to revise, but end up writing a horror story about Mrs. Grimshaw. I can still hear
it, and Joe can too. That careful whisper, a word we both recognise. It cant be.
I run back to the study room, moving through left-right steps and shimmies all the way. There she is. I call Sue and Joe, they lumber themselves over
to me. Wait, why isnt she responding to our appearence? I dont know, Sue,
maybe shes gone blind. And deaf? And deaf.
She is staring at the work on the board. Our mathematical madness, in
orange blue and brown splattered all over the place. I can see her eyes working
over it. She doesnt understand. Ill try to explain. Its maths miss. No response
Its our revision A harsh breathing comes from her.

writer.bighugelabs.com

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOo by Anonymous
Nov 18, 2015

I remember, when I taugh in Africa, the children were so enthusiastic.

Oh, really, miss? Yes. You are all so fantastic. Joe moves into the corner, he
doesnt want to be dragged into this. SUe sits down. No deary, dont. Look at
me, and stand there.
Oh no, shes gonna WOWOOOOaooowoPPOPOPOoOOOOOWWWOWOW
us to death.
I was right.
9:30
I can feel it all reversing. The equations on the boards shift and solve
themselves, endlessly. Newton-Raphson warned me about this. This is recurring. Her glasses are crystals, and the the words maths written over them. Joe
begins to cry (fucking finally), and Sue tweets a photo of it.
This is dire. A wind picks up, making a woo sound as it whips around us.
Miss, whats going on. I try to escape, the door is locked and blinds closed.
Sue was the first to fall (shes tall, so you know the saying)
SHe went away as though into a distance, tending to infinity. I can feel
myself changing, too. Joe. Oh god, not Joe. He is split into hundreds of pieces,
then stacked and reiterated as many times as I could imagine, through to the
final iteration; a monster, now just some Joe that I used to know.
Im last.
I warned you, you pest. Stop being a pest (pest). What a besty clever
sticks your are.. No your work UNIFORM and that, woooooooo. Are you ok
dea(woo)ries.
Then, a liquid forms at my feet. In it, complex numbers floating about. It
rapidly fills the room, and reeks of something indescribable. Im up to my neck
in maths, now. Im not sure what to do. Then..
Im submerged, drowning. I surrender to it. As I draw one last breath I
hear, through the awful liquid:
Youre in the soup.

writer.bighugelabs.com