D-20

You wolf down the cookie in three quick bites as you walk back to class.  Wiping stray crumbs from your chin, you hear a ruckus coming from one of the biology classes across the hall.   As you look into the room to find the source of the disturbance, an amorphous gooey mess comes flying towards you.  Before you can react, it lands on your head.

You stand in stunned silence. 

Everyone in the classroom is hunched over small trays and staring back at you.  There is a clatter as unattended scalpels and tweezers fall to the floor and in your periphery you can see a jock begin to swoon.

“Dude – you just got frogged,” advises an apparent luminary from the back of the class.  Rivulets of amphibian run-off find their way to the corners of your mouth.  You just stand there, unable to move.

“Oh my god!” says Miss Herman, rushing up to you and knocking off your carcass chapeau.  “Are you okay?”

She looks even better now than she has in the countless fantasies you’ve had about her since she joined the school for her first teaching assignment.  Her limpid eyes…  her gorgeous brown hair…  her voluminous chest...

You vomit cookie chunks onto on her legs and shoes as the taste of formaldehyde and frog innards overwhelms you.  A solitary red M&M sticks to her kneecap.  Falling to the floor, you try to apologize but your words are defeated by further retching.  You lie there in your own mess, a heaving, twitching failure, unsure what to do now.

Do you…

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