“Good morning, class!” April sing-songed to her kindergarteners. They picked their noses and giggled in response, scooting closer to her on the faded blue storytime rug. “Who’s ready for a story?” Hate rose in her throat.

Her voice made her sick, so syrupy and thick you could get stuck in it. Her eyes felt like they were going to burst from her head, and all the while the kids flicked their boogers at one another and shrieked. She pulled the thick book of fairy tales from the podium next to her squishy story chair. The green faux-leather arms threatened to squeeze her tight, crushing her to death while the little monsters laughed on.

“So, children, today we’re going to learn about the Pied Piper of Hamelin.” she began, closing her eyes against the pain in her skull, the uncontrollable rage she felt as Billy frowned.

“I don’t like that story.” he pouted, eyes filling with spoiled crocodile tears.

She pulled a gun from her coat pocket, aimed at his little snot-filled head. “Maybe you’ll like this one.”