They were going to fire him. Him. The man who had been teaching shop at the school for forty years. He had tought generation after generation how to create the perfect wooden shelves, toy ducks, you name it. Without this job, he would have nothing. He leaned back in his soft, leather chair. It squeaked loudly. It needed to be oiled. The man stood up and walked over to a band-saw. With the loud click of a switch the machine roared to life. He began to fee it into the rapidly moving teeth of the saw. The sound was deafening. Matter from the object flew in all directions. He quickly removed the piece of wood from the band-saw and examined it. "Perfect." He almost whispered.

He was in jail now, awaiting his hearing. He should have thought this through more, been more careful. The police knew exactly where to go when they found the principal with a wooden stake jammed into the back of his neck.

The End

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