BAM! The front door slams open. Cheering, the man wearing a red shirt calls out to the inhabitants, “We’ve got reason to celebrate. We’re getting married. Drinks on the house! All night long.” It takes a few times for it to sink into the brains of the residents of the bar, but the cheer increases until the place is almost rowdy.
Hand in hand they walk up to the bar and sit on the spinnable stools. "Gimme a Bloody Mary," says the man, "and the lady, here will have an Angel's Tit. Isn't that right, Sweetie?"
"You know me so well, Darling." She smiles looking into his eyes.
After the orders for drinks slow, one of the patrons slides up next to them and the bartender stops in front of them, "It's so sweet that you two are getting married. How did the two of you meet?"
"Oh no, no," the man smiles as he protests shaking his hands in front of himself. His fiancée chuckles at him.
The customer next to them nudges them in the ribs, "C'mon. We should hear sumthin' from our graysus bene-- bene-- people buyin' ussss drinks."
"Very well," begins the lady sliding her red sunglasses up into her brown bangs, "Here's how we met."
-*-*-*-
The young teen girl looks around the classroom. Surrounding her are various other students in uniforms facing forward despite the fact that the teacher isn't even in the room yet. Well, most of them anyway. There is one boy near the rear of the room, leaning back in his chair, tie loose, and feet on the desk. She ignores him. I don't want to meet him. Trouble is what got me here at Willard G. Rosewood Preparatory Academy. if dad hadn't won that bet, I wouldn't be able to go to school.
She sighs, "I'm not so sure about this place." Setting down her manila envelope filled with papers, she recalls some of the things her parents told her, "No students fails. The best teachers who are experts in their subject matter and excellent teachers. Average graduate GPA is 4.1."
"Looks more like a correctional facility than a school," she says looking around at all the cookie cutter students around her. Then a thought crosses her mind about how fun it would be to mess with these stiffs. She quickly squelches that thought.
A straight backed older model of the students enters the room. Almost everyone sits a little taller. "Miss Durant, please come forward." Apprehensive at her name being used, she walks to the teacher.
"You can call me Kendra," she says trying to be friendly.
The teacher hands her a paper. "Here is your pop quiz, Miss Durant." Then turning to the rest, she announces, "Pop quiz everyone."
One groan is heard. She looks back to spot the slacker. "Please pass these out and then start your own. Come back up here when you are done." The teacher hands her a stack of papers.
"But Miss Stanford," She, at least, knew the name of this teacher, "this is my first day."
"It's very simple, Miss Durant. If you pass your one question quiz, your time here will begin fresh. If, however, you do not pass, your grades and record will transfer here."
"But what--? I haven't been in this class."
"Yours is on the information packet you were given at home to study before arriving." The teacher taps the manilla envelope in the student's hand. She gulps, passes the papers out, and then sits at her desk again.
"1. What does the 'G' stand for in Willard G. Rosewood's name stand for?" She reads the question twice then three times. It seems so simple. I should know this. But I didn't read the packet. Her eyes dart to the closed envelope then up at the teacher watching her. Well, I skimmed it. I'd better guess. She looks at the question again. Still, nothing comes. G... g... g... Garfield? We had a president with that name, right? Yeah, someone who created this place was probably a Garfield.
She writes down the name and then starts to turn it in. As she hands it near the teacher, she lets her see the answer on her paper and watches the teacher's face to see if they'll alert her to the correctness of her choice. Passive, she gets nothing. She hands it over and walks back to her seat. Looking back one more time, not that it matters at this point, she tries to read the teacher's face to no avail.
Miss Stanford collects the papers and scores the group before starting the lecture on the flight patterns of birds. Once she finishes, the teacher leaves and another enters. Through the back door more people enter. This teacher is more friendly or at least she smiles more. She has a pretty smile. She is also wearing a black gi or something. She looks like a ninja.
Other people enter the back of the room. Kendra spots some of those in front of her glance back then forward again. A quiet murmur fills the room. "They're going to do it?" "Who's going to get it?" Figuring there's a taboo about looking around but it's her first day, she takes a risk and looks back.
There in the back of the room are two pairs of people holding a painting each. One is of the slacker. The other is of her. Oh no. A fifth person is doing something under each picture as each pair struggles to lift and hang the picture. The sound of a motor is heard repeating a motion then stopping.
The teacher starts ignoring the sounds, "Today we will be continuing our lessons on feudal Japan. In specific, we will be covering the ninja--"
-*-*-*-
"Way, way, wait," gushes the drinker on the bar stool, interrupting the story.
All at the bar go quiet waiting for him to continue. He doesn't immediately, so the TV drones on, "Police are baffled that no footage is available this time due to birds hovering in front of all the cameras."
"Shake him a little," advises the bartender.
Since Kendra is closer, she nudges him and he starts awake. "Huh? Wha?"
After sorting out the confusion and reminding him of where they are in the story, the drunk continues, "Wha're duh pissures fer?"
The future husband smiles. "I was just about to get to that part."
-*-*-*-
The teacher with her back to the back wall, reaches up behind the paintings and pulls things down and stuffs them in her pockets. "By donning dark colors, they could blend in with the night and be hard to be seen." She wanders the room, all eyes tracking her with a few lingering on the paintings a little too long. "As so, using stealth and trickery they were able to get whatever they wanted, which is why they have a reputation of being bad."
She stops by Kendra's desk, "Miss Durant, please stand up." She stands up and looks to the teacher. She slaps a white band on her wrist. "Thank you. Please follow me." Curious as to what's going on, Kendra does what she's told.
The fifth man steps away to reveal that under each picture is a name plate. One has her name and the other has -- "Jonathan Freeman," says the man who bolted the name plates below their pictures, "Come here."
"No way," the slacker stands and crosses his arms.
"It doesn't matter," he says with his arms crossed. He starts again, "Mr. Freeman, because of you bad behavior and low grades, you will spend time in detention until your grades improve."
His eyes go wide at this declaration, "It's okay. I'll bring them up."
Instead of answering, the man turns to Kendra, "Miss Durant. Due to your record before arriving, you will need to spend time in detention until you learn the material up to current."
Surprised, she asks, "I failed the quiz?" Ninja teacher nods. "Detention?" She nods again. It's then that Kendra notice that her teacher is no longer at her side, she is under the pictures again. She reaches behind the pictures. The heavy pictures swing forward indicating that something was pushed.
-*-*-*-
A patron walks up. "Another for me," he says as he drops his stein on the wooden bar. All stop to look at him. The barkeep takes the mug and puts it under the tap.
The television continues with its report as they wait for him to finish, "The police have no suspects at this point, but the M.O. is consistent with several other recent burglaries."
"There you go," the bartender nods as he hands the man his drink. He looks to the sleeping drunk next to them before turning his attention to them, "So, what happened next?"
-*-*-*-
Something starting pulling on my arm. But what caught my attention was the slacker boy, Jonathan was sputtering and protesting, "What? How? How did this get on me?" He is also wearing a wristband and trying to rip it off.
The history teacher laughs, "I'm a ninja." The five men, having done their jobs, step to the side. Kendra's arm lifts up drawn to the pictures. Something, where the pictures are, pulls and pulls to the point where she has to step forward to regain her balance.
Because she is closer now, the pull is stronger and harder to resist. She looks over at Jonathan who is closer still to the pictures and also, nearer to her. He is stumbling a little faster as he passes in front of her.
The teacher gasps, "Oh no!" She starts forward, but the announcer guy holds her back. Kendra, confused, tries to figure out what's going on. That's when she notices that the slacker is almost touching her portrait hanging on the wall. Why is he touching mine?
In a last ditch effort to avoid whatever is going to happen to him, he stretches toward her with the unbanded hand. Then Kendra sees something impossible. Jonathan's arm starts getting sucked into the picture of her. He struggles and tries to pull away. But the hold on him is unwavering. It pulls him in faster and faster.
In order to keep himself out of the picture, he walks up the wall backwards. This only pauses the effort for a moment. Then his foot slips. His feet and legs join the trapped arm. With almost nothing left to keep him out, he gets drawn in. After his head sinks in, he uses his last hand to grasp the frame. Kendra watches as her body squirms inside the portrait. Then the man lifts Jonathan's fingers one by one until the last of him is consumed.
Then the picture stops moving with Kendra's face in fear. Then electricity charges across the face of the picture. "Okay, he's sealed in," declares the man who seems to be the boss.
"But! But," questions the ninja history teacher, "he's in the wrong one."
The man waves her comment away, "We'll sort it out later. Switch the pictures when she's done." and then leaves the room.
All eyes turn to Kendra. She looks away and her eyes fall on her hand touching his picture and then his placard below,
"Jonathan Freeman
Unacceptable Grades
Troublemaker"
-*-*-*-
"Then you went into his picture," the barkeeper finishes.
The almost married couple stop and stare at him. In the silence, "In case you missed it, tonight there was another in a long string of robberies that have police baffled."
"What?" The barkeeper shrugs, "That's where it was going, right?"
The woman nods, "Yeah, but it isn't as exciting when you cut it short. Some people like to hear all the details."
"I'm not one of them," answers the bartender. "But I am curious about what it was like in the paintings. That was the detention, right?"
The man answers this time, "Yeah, it was detention. It was boring. All we did was watch live lectures of each class and then we were given quizzes on the material."
"Quizzes appeared before our eyes, we answered them, then they disappeared."
"And when we didn't pass, we watched the pre-recorded video of the same lecture."
"It was non-stop videos and tests until our grades came up."
"It was horrible. No wonder the students didn't want to be stuck in those."
The bartender brings them back, "Uh huh. Obviously, you didn't stay in there, since you are here now. When did they let you out?"
They both say together, "When we had all 'A's."
Kendra continues, "I was at a 'B' when they put me in."
Jonathan adds, "And my records were abysmal from my other school. So it took us a while to get out of there."
"And, yet, you are still in each other's bodies," the bartender observes.
The sleeping drunk who is awake and paying attention asks, "Didn't dey straighten you guys out?"
"They forgot."
"We were in there for a long time."
"Yeah. Wasn't it like half a year?"
"With daily classes and then after school make-up classes. Definitely. Plus neither of us wanted to stop rebelling at first. I took some of those classes ten times."
"We were frightened at first going to each other's houses, at first. But each of took to it like a duck on water. Soon, we preferred being the other."
"He even gave my family pointers that lead them to financial success. So, now my family is set and fits in well with the 'Gardenia' reform school."
"Gardenia not Garfield, huh," comments the barkeep.
"Yup. We were a pair of sympathetic souls. Shortly after we left detention, we fell in love with each other and that brings us to today."
"He asked and I said yes." She shows the ring to the bartender and the drunk sitting next to them. She'd have shown it to more but everyone else seems more interested in their drinks.
"Well, congratulations are in order for you two."
"Thank you," Kendra smiles and bows her head a touch.
"Yes, Thank you. As an engagement gift to all of you, we'd like you to have this." Jonathan smiles and spreads a wad of 100's across the bar. "This is for you and all the patrons here." He raises his voice a little, "This is for all of you to celebrate on our big day. Thank you all."
They are answered with a group of mumbles and raised glasses. The happy couple raise their own glasses, clink them together, and down them in one shot before slamming them on the bar.
"What a pleasant stay at the bar," comments Kendra.
"Yes," Jonathan agrees, "Thank you, Bartender, for the drinks and the acceptable time." He flips a few more hundreds on the bar. "Will this cover all the drinks for the night?"
The bartender only nods. "Well, then we'll be off. Have a great night, everyone!" They are answered by moans and raised glasses again. And they leave closing the door behind them.
Noise gone, the television picks up again. The newscaster looks excited and a little dishevelled, "This just in!" It zooms in on a picture of the underside of a bird flapping. It zooms still more of a colorful dot between the ends of a wing. And once more to reveal the toe of a red high heel. "Police have identified on this frame of the video and this frame..." The camera switches to another grainy picture of the edge of a swinging red jacket, "proves that our suspects are wearing red. The police ask that if anyone has seen anyone suspicious wearing red to please call them at once at the number --"
The drunk at the bar turns to the bartender, "Those folks were wearing red. I think she had on red shoes and he was wearing--"
The bartender smiles and scoops up the money from off the bar, "Yeah, but they weren't suspicious, so it couldn't be them."
Handing one of the big bills to the drunk, the drunk agrees, "Yeah. Not suspicious at all."