Why Marla Ansbury Peed in English Class

Abigail MacSnorter infuriated Marla Ansbury the day in April 1959 when Bob Saxon asked her to the prom. Abigail didn't know why Bob had chosen her. After all, she had average mousy brown hair, forgettable facial features and an ordinary body. She preferred to blend in rather than shine with the star quarterback.

Abigail asked, “Why me?”

“You're new this year and I figured you might not be asked, so I request your presence. Besides, you are far more beautiful than you look.” Bob smiled while Abigail contemplated what Bob could possibly mean by saying she was more beautiful than she looked.

Rather than make a fuss or draw attention to herself, Abigail accepted. Unfortunately, accepting a prom date when you're the new kid in school is just as likely to outrage the other girls as would a rejection. Accept and you discover the boy in question was already taken as far as the other girls were concerned. Refuse and you declare war on the rest of the senior class because the star quarterback with the movie star body somehow isn't good enough for you.

Marla Ansbury's fury derived from her position as head cheerleader, leading candidate for prom queen, and the class-designated future trophy wife of Bob Saxon. Marla believed these things but had some doubts since the night last summer when Bob dumped her. While Marla possessed most of the qualities a man could want from a girlfriend, he preferred girls on the college track which in 1959 actually required high performance in high school math, science, literature and several long dead languages.

Things quieted down until the Wednesday evening before the prom. Marla knocked on the door to Abigail's apartment where she lived with her grandmother. When Abigail opened the door, Marla fired both barrels of her dad's 12 gauge. The recoil knocked Marla on her butt in the hallway. Abigail flew back into her living room with a massive wound to her midsection. Blood splattered about the room and soaked the carpet. Without a word, Marla stood up and strolled out of the building.

The next day, Abigail sauntered into English class, smiled at Marla as if nothing had happened, and plopped onto her desk. Marla turned ashen. She peed through her skirt enough to form a large puddle under her seat.

If Marla had stayed longer the previous night, she would not have missed the show. Instead, she would have witnessed Abigail “Snipgridixz” MacSnorter's teenage alien hermaphrodite shapeshifter body reabsorb her blood. She may have seen Abigail's internal organs reshape into their proper alien form, which is somewhat different than human anatomy. However, she would not have observed much after Abigail's skin expanded to seal her massive wound.

Abigail never did figure out what Bob Saxon meant when he said, “You are far more beautiful than you look.” It was enough to make a girl wonder if ol' Bob knew more than he let on.

THE END

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When Tom Stone Failed to Impress

When Tom Stone failed to impress his chemistry teacher, Mr. Boron ordered him under the class emergency shower. Tom obliged, clothes and all. Within a minute he began to sing America the Beautiful. The usual wiseguys joined in until Mr. Boron ordered silence. “Rush to the nurses office,” he ordered Tom.

“It's okay, Mr. Boron. My hands are better.” Tom held them out for inspection.

Mr. Boron checked Tom's hands, front and back. “Impossible. You spilled sulfuric acid. Your shirtsleeves are half eaten away so should the skin on your wrists and forearms, but they're not. You splashed sulfuric acid on your shirt and pants. Your clothes have the holes to prove it, yet you have no burns. How is that possible?”

“Somebody watered down the acid?” Tom suggested.

Mr. Boron issued the final word on spilled sulfuric acid. “Nonsense. Head down to the nurse's office this instant, young man. Tell her what happened. Go.”

It was the final word for Tom Stone. He padded down the hall out of the science wing headed for the front entrance of Claymore High School in the tiny town of the same name located a few miles northeast of Madison, Wisconsin. The year was 1952. Tom preferred to stay until graduation, but he knew from experience that Miss Atkins, the school nurse, would ask too many questions. She was inquisitive that way. Meanwhile, Mr. Boron would research the possibilities for the instant healing from acid burns. Sooner or later he would run across rumors of shapeshifters walking the earth and men in black.

Back home, Snipgridixz removed his wet clothes and shifted his Tom Stone body in the female direction. Small teenage boobs popped out on his chest. Strange things happened down below. Since she lacked clothes appropriate to a teenage girl, Snipgridixz changed into one of her “Grandma” outfits and morphed into her sixty-something Grandma persona. Her boobs sagged, her hips spread, her knees bent low and her old lady clothes fit. Her hair turned gray and frizzy, her face wrinkled. “Perfect,” Snipgridixz said.

On the way out, she couldn't help but notice the black 1951 Dodge sedan cruise into the parking lot. Four tall thin men stepped out. They wore black suits, white shirts, black neck ties, black shoes and black hats. They had covered their eyes with sunglasses. “Excuse me, ma'am,” shouted one of the men. “Have you seen this young man. He lives in this apartment complex.”

Snipgridixz Grandma stepped close to the men. She smiled to reveal cracked teeth and receding gums with many gaps. “I know the boy. He should be in school at this time of day.” Her words included enough spittle to spot the closest man's sunglasses.

The men gagged on Grandma's breath. “Thanks, ma'am.” The men shuffled into the apartment building.

Snipgridixz Grandma drove off in the direction of the afternoon sun. She glanced at the empty seat next to her. “Don't worry, dear, you're so pretty and Grandma will buy new outfits for when you begin high school in our new hometown in Arizona.”

THE END

7 PREDICTIONS YOU CAN MAKE ABOUT ANY STORY
Do you ever wish you could better predict the end of the movie you're watching or the novel you're reading? Do you envy friends who always seem to know what will happen next in a story? Want to learn their secret? Send for your FREE copy of my new guide – 7 PREDICTIONS YOU CAN MAKE ABOUT ANY STORY. It's FREE plus I'll email occasional updates on my new releases, current novels and more (Never more than once a month. Cancel anytime.) Click here to signup now.