Floored
Image courtesy of Ashton
Community Science College.
Coach Gage Strickland eyed the inflatable planetarium befouling his basketball court with ever growing disdain. Everything about it was wrong: the swirling nebula that covered the top and middle of the thing, the cratered moonscape printed around the bottom, and especially the buzz of the small generator echoing off the parquet floor. The thing did not belong in his gym, and it was that new science teacher, Ms. Campbell, that was to blame. Something had to be done.
The final bell rang and the students that attended Sam Houston Middle School poured out of the building like water gushing out of a car rescued off the bottom of a lake. As soon as they were gone, Coach Strickland, who at 6'3" still had the body of a swimmer, marched towards Ms. Campbell's office. He reached her door just in time to catch it with his forehead as it exploded open. Strickland fell backwards and smacked the back of his head against the concrete floor.
"Oh my god!” Strickland heard, and suddenly Ms. Campbell wavered into view inches way from his face. She had hair as black as the ace of spades and cut just as sharp, along with perfectly shaped almond eyes the color of jade. She wore a subtle perfume that was both musky and floral, and suddenly Strickland was dumbstruck in a way that had nothing to do with bashing his head twice.
"Seriously coach. You alright? I mean, I didn't even see you there."
"I'm, uh. Well, I'm fine."
Ms. Campbell let out a sigh of relief and said, "Good. I'm glad I didn't hurt you."
"Me too. Particularly if this is your idea of a friendly greeting," the coach said, trying to grease the wheels.
Ms. Campbell laughed, which made the coach smile, despite himself. "Not to worry, I don't always beat people in order to make them—smile,” Ms. Campbell said in a light tone that caused the coach’s gut to clench. "Now then, coach, what is it that you came to see me about?"
"The planetarium..."
"Oh good,” and for a fraction of a second Coach Strickland swore she ran her eyes over his body. “It’s up."
"Yeah, but nobody asked me if they could put it up on my basketball court," Coach Strickland said, picking himself up off the ground. "I don't like having that blower on the floor. It's creating a hell of a racket."
"Is it?" Ms. Campbell said, as continued to drink in the coach’s well-toned form. "Well, I was going to check it out. Why don't you come with me?" she said, and brushed by him as she switched her way towards the gym. Coach Strickland was again hooked by her musky perfume, and as he watched her walk towards the gym, Coach Strickland could think of a few things he wanted more at that particular moment.
As soon as they entered the gym though, another scent reached the coach’s nostrils, and he could tell it was coming from the inflated dome. Ms. Campbell obviously also smelled it, because she started creeping towards the planetarium. Coach Strickland pointed to the large zipper that ran up the side of the planetarium and Ms. Campbell nodded. She stationed herself on one side of the entrance, opposite from Coach Strickland. They then heard two young, male voices.
"Come on. You've already had some. It's my turn."
"Shut up, man. You're gonna ruin my buzz."
“Yeah, but this is stupid. If we get caught, we're totally burned."
"Who's gonna catch us, dumbass? Coach is gone."
"What about that science teacher? Ms. Campbell."
"Aw, shit. She can catch me. I mean have you seen her? She's smoking hot!"
Coach Strickland caught Ms. Campbell's eye, and while holding her gaze nodded his agreement. Then with a swift, almost violent motion, he ripped the zipper open.
"Oh, shit,” said a boy with bad acne, and who was holding a straight stem pipe that looked to be made out of cherrywood and was stuffed full of smoldering marijuana. This he desperately threw behind him and then put up his hands to show they were empty.
“I told you,” screamed a second boy, who was whip thin, wore glasses, and sported a grey t-shirt that said "Dope," with a diamond representing the letter O.
"You two idiots are toast," Coach Strickland said, as he stepped into the huge plastic dome.
"And if you ever talk about me like that again," Ms. Campbell said as she stepped into the inflatable, "then I will personally make sure you fail every class you take for the next six years. Do I make myself clear?"
The two boys mumbled “Yes, Ms. Campbell."
"Good," she said. "Now, what're your nam..." But she never got the word out. There was a sound like a cannon blast and the planetarium began hemorrhaging air like a whoopee cushion. The noise distracted the adults, who instantly moved to investigate, as the inflatable began to collapse around them. The two boys took advantage of this distraction and darted between the teachers and out of the rapidly collapsing planetarium. Ms. Campbell reached the lit pipe, which had burned a hole through one of the plastic seams and caused it to burst. She whipped around so she could chase the boys, but in the process she collied directly into the muscular form of Mr. Strickland, knocking him onto his back, and dazing them both.
As they lay there recovering, with the plastic dome collapsing around them, Ms. Campbell sighed, "Those two are history."
“Uh-huh”, the coach agreed, but at least you floored me, and not some door.”
“Well, thanks for catching me,” she purred.
“My pleasure. And just so you know, that kid was right about you,” Coach Strickland said, as his fingers brushed against her zipper. He saw a sly smile touch Ms. Campbell's lips, as she caught his hand and then overwhelmed him with her musky perfume.
The final bell rang and the students that attended Sam Houston Middle School poured out of the building like water gushing out of a car rescued off the bottom of a lake. As soon as they were gone, Coach Strickland, who at 6'3" still had the body of a swimmer, marched towards Ms. Campbell's office. He reached her door just in time to catch it with his forehead as it exploded open. Strickland fell backwards and smacked the back of his head against the concrete floor.
"Oh my god!” Strickland heard, and suddenly Ms. Campbell wavered into view inches way from his face. She had hair as black as the ace of spades and cut just as sharp, along with perfectly shaped almond eyes the color of jade. She wore a subtle perfume that was both musky and floral, and suddenly Strickland was dumbstruck in a way that had nothing to do with bashing his head twice.
"Seriously coach. You alright? I mean, I didn't even see you there."
"I'm, uh. Well, I'm fine."
Ms. Campbell let out a sigh of relief and said, "Good. I'm glad I didn't hurt you."
"Me too. Particularly if this is your idea of a friendly greeting," the coach said, trying to grease the wheels.
Ms. Campbell laughed, which made the coach smile, despite himself. "Not to worry, I don't always beat people in order to make them—smile,” Ms. Campbell said in a light tone that caused the coach’s gut to clench. "Now then, coach, what is it that you came to see me about?"
"The planetarium..."
"Oh good,” and for a fraction of a second Coach Strickland swore she ran her eyes over his body. “It’s up."
"Yeah, but nobody asked me if they could put it up on my basketball court," Coach Strickland said, picking himself up off the ground. "I don't like having that blower on the floor. It's creating a hell of a racket."
"Is it?" Ms. Campbell said, as continued to drink in the coach’s well-toned form. "Well, I was going to check it out. Why don't you come with me?" she said, and brushed by him as she switched her way towards the gym. Coach Strickland was again hooked by her musky perfume, and as he watched her walk towards the gym, Coach Strickland could think of a few things he wanted more at that particular moment.
As soon as they entered the gym though, another scent reached the coach’s nostrils, and he could tell it was coming from the inflated dome. Ms. Campbell obviously also smelled it, because she started creeping towards the planetarium. Coach Strickland pointed to the large zipper that ran up the side of the planetarium and Ms. Campbell nodded. She stationed herself on one side of the entrance, opposite from Coach Strickland. They then heard two young, male voices.
"Come on. You've already had some. It's my turn."
"Shut up, man. You're gonna ruin my buzz."
“Yeah, but this is stupid. If we get caught, we're totally burned."
"Who's gonna catch us, dumbass? Coach is gone."
"What about that science teacher? Ms. Campbell."
"Aw, shit. She can catch me. I mean have you seen her? She's smoking hot!"
Coach Strickland caught Ms. Campbell's eye, and while holding her gaze nodded his agreement. Then with a swift, almost violent motion, he ripped the zipper open.
"Oh, shit,” said a boy with bad acne, and who was holding a straight stem pipe that looked to be made out of cherrywood and was stuffed full of smoldering marijuana. This he desperately threw behind him and then put up his hands to show they were empty.
“I told you,” screamed a second boy, who was whip thin, wore glasses, and sported a grey t-shirt that said "Dope," with a diamond representing the letter O.
"You two idiots are toast," Coach Strickland said, as he stepped into the huge plastic dome.
"And if you ever talk about me like that again," Ms. Campbell said as she stepped into the inflatable, "then I will personally make sure you fail every class you take for the next six years. Do I make myself clear?"
The two boys mumbled “Yes, Ms. Campbell."
"Good," she said. "Now, what're your nam..." But she never got the word out. There was a sound like a cannon blast and the planetarium began hemorrhaging air like a whoopee cushion. The noise distracted the adults, who instantly moved to investigate, as the inflatable began to collapse around them. The two boys took advantage of this distraction and darted between the teachers and out of the rapidly collapsing planetarium. Ms. Campbell reached the lit pipe, which had burned a hole through one of the plastic seams and caused it to burst. She whipped around so she could chase the boys, but in the process she collied directly into the muscular form of Mr. Strickland, knocking him onto his back, and dazing them both.
As they lay there recovering, with the plastic dome collapsing around them, Ms. Campbell sighed, "Those two are history."
“Uh-huh”, the coach agreed, but at least you floored me, and not some door.”
“Well, thanks for catching me,” she purred.
“My pleasure. And just so you know, that kid was right about you,” Coach Strickland said, as his fingers brushed against her zipper. He saw a sly smile touch Ms. Campbell's lips, as she caught his hand and then overwhelmed him with her musky perfume.