Cupcake's Revenge

Smitty Sandine managed to turn his life around during senior year. I honestly didn't think such a monumental feat was possible. Nobody else did either, but Smitty managed and he made a name for himself at Talcott High. Smitty happens to be in a few classes with me this year. We both know each other and grew up in the same neighborhood just a couple of blocks apart. Sometimes we'd stop and say hello to each other in the hall during passing period, but I wouldn't say we were anything more than acquaintances.

Smitty is the fat quiet kid in class; the strong silent type who usually keeps his feelings to himself. Nobody knew how diabolical he really was until Monday during fourth hour English. Smitty and I have Mrs. Cantrell for English this year. Unfortunately for Smitty, he had Mrs. Cantrell last year too. She is a truly awful woman; the personification of evil.

Mrs. Cantrell is old as dirt, and she's been teaching English at Talcott since the time of Christ. She is a tall skeletal woman with this ugly mop of curly reddish hair piled up in a nasty bun. She has an evil raspy voice, and her wrinkled face is a mask of clownish make-up applied with the accuracy of a dead drunk firing a loaded cannon. Since the first day of the school year, I've felt sorry for Smitty because Mrs. Cantrell always targets him for bullshit.

Other than committing the crimes of being fat and quiet, no one really knew why old Cantrell had such a fixation on punishing Smitty. Almost every day like clockwork our entire class bears witness to the hell Smitty catches:

Mrs. Cantrell loves to make a huge issue out of Smitty's penmanship. She often enjoys holding up his papers or calling him up to the blackboard just so she can point it out to the rest of us.

About a month ago, she accused Smitty of committing vandalism. Somebody wrote "Cantrell should burn in hell" in black permanent marker on a locker just outside her classroom door. It turned out that Rob Oberlin wrote it. Rob is in Mrs. Cantrell's first hour class and he's on the football team. He was pissed off at Cantrell because she failed him on a test and his coach benched him when he got wind of it. Of course, Mrs. Cantrell never apologized to Smitty.

One day, Mrs. Cantrell failed Smitty on a paper assignment. She held it up to the class and loudly said: "See Mr. Sandine? Do not be him. This is someone who is bad and is a failure. You will end up in jail one day if you are him."

Smitty almost always seemed to take these injustices in stride. But Mrs. Cantrell's most atrocious act of cruelty was committed against Smitty last year in freshman English.

Although he is quiet, Smitty sure likes to eat. His momma, Mrs. Sandine, is a jovial woman who volunteers a lot of time between Blake Methodist Church and the Talcott Booster Club. She also loves Smitty to pieces and likes to indulge her son. Old Cantrell had no idea that Mrs. Sandine happens to be one of the most respected members of the Booster Club. She also had no idea that Mrs. Sandine attended college with Mr. Bowen, the principal. Mrs. Cantrell sure is a fucking idiot.

It was Smitty's eighteenth birthday, and Mrs. Sandine packed a few moist and gooey cupcakes to go with his lunch. According to some of the kids who were in class that day, Smitty couldn't wait until lunch to tear into his mom's delicious homemade cupcakes. He sat in the back row near the ditto machine and started eating while old Cantrell droned on about proper sentence structures before making everyone open up their workbooks.

My friend, Jake Holder was sitting two desks away from Smitty near the window. He described things that day as being quiet and routine; almost boring. But when Mrs. Cantrell's eyes zeroed in on Smitty eating one of his mom's cupcakes, all hell broke loose. The old witch tossed aside the textbook she was reading from, and she promptly asked Smitty:

"Just what in the hell do you think you're doing in my class, Mr. Sandine?"

Smitty just kind of paused between bites and said his mom made him some cupcakes for his birthday. He told her that he just got hungry, but he's been paying attention the whole time. Smitty even apologized, but that wasn't good enough for Mrs. Cantrell.

"Well by the looks of things, I'd say you've already had enough cupcakes to last you two dozen birthdays!"

The whole class erupted in laughter. Most teachers would have ended things right there and moved on, but that's not Cantrell's style.

Mrs. Cantrell stomped over to Smitty's desk at the back of the room and leered menacingly at him for several uncomfortable seconds. Then for some reason, probably sadism, she instructed Smitty to take the remaining cupcake, place it on his chair, and then sit on it for the rest of the hour.

Smitty tried to plead his case. He offered to throw it in the trash and go down to the office, but Cantrell wouldn't have it. Perhaps he figured there was not much else he could do at the time. Smitty quietly took his last cupcake while the old witch stared him down and he squashed it into the seat of his JC Penney twill pants.

At the end of the hour when the class was filing out of the room, it was clear to everyone that Smitty now had this giant brown skid mark on his ass. A few sticky brown threads of icing with equally moist brown crumbles of cake added a scatological element to his already present humiliation. For the rest of the year, everyone called him Shitty Smitty Sandine.

Smitty never said a word to his mom, but she found out anyway. One afternoon, Mrs. Sandine came to pick Smitty up from school early for a doctor's appointment when she heard some of the kids talking in the hall:

"Did you hear what old Cantrell did to Smitty Sandine...?"

"Oh my God, she made him sit in it?"

"Say hi to Shitty Smitty when you see

him! Ask him if he needs another set of pants."

Mrs. Sandine was furious to say the least. Later that same night she decided she'd go straight over to Talcott in the morning and have a talk with Mr. Bowen, but Smitty talked his mom out of it.

I remember how shocked everyone was. Smitty never said anything to Mrs. Cantrell, Mr. Bowen, or anyone else. It looked for all intents and purposes like Smitty was letting old Cantrell walk all over him, except he never forgot what she did to him that day. He subsisted off hatred for Mrs. Cantrell, nursing a grudge of legendary proportions.

As a sophomore, everyone still called him Shitty Smitty Sandine until Monday when everything changed. Over summer vacation, Smitty wiled away several hours with his momma learning how to cook. By then, Mrs. Sandine figured her son was able to take care of himself, so she forgot the whole thing with Mrs. Cantrell and the cupcakes. Besides, Mrs. Sandine thought it was a great way to occupy her son's time while tackling the necessary chore of feeding the family.

On Monday morning the Talcott student commission held its annual faculty breakfast. Smitty's sister Emily is a member of the student commission, and in an indirect way she ended up helping her brother exact his revenge against Mrs. Cantrell.

With the help of his momma's recipe cards, Smitty went to work Sunday afternoon baking dozens of moist gooey chocolate cupcakes to pass out at the faculty breakfast. Emily protested at first. She told Smitty that he should have made muffins instead. But when Smitty explained that the cupcakes could be handed out after the breakfast, Emily thought it was a neat idea.

"Mom always says you're so thoughtful!" She said. "Now the teachers can have a cupcake to go with their lunch!"

Of course Smitty didn't forget Mrs. Cantrell. She never missed the student commission breakfast, so she'd be sure to get her cupcake too. While mixing up the last batch, Smitty made a very special cupcake just for Mrs. Cantrell.

The finished cupcakes were a sight to behold. Any rational person with a sweet tooth would agree that Smitty is a baking progeny. The cake was moist and decadent while the dark cocoa frosting was light and fluffy and not too sweet.

When they arrived at school Monday morning, Smitty helped his sister carry the cupcakes to the cafeteria. He asked if Emily would serve Mrs. Cantrell the special cupcake he'd set aside just for her. I kind of suspect that Emily knew what was going on, but no one could actually prove it. She agreed, and Smitty walked away.

Besides being an idiot, Mrs. Cantrell is a hypocrite. Smitty quietly observed the several occasions when the old witch would eat cakes, pie slices, or sandwiches at her desk during class in front of the students. Sometimes she would reason that she was hungry and couldn't wait until lunch.

"This is my classroom, and I make the rules." She'd snap.

It was almost the end of fourth hour when tragedy (or comedy, depending on who viewed it) struck:

The class was studying Aristotle's methods of convincing. They were just wrapping up discussion about ethics in the textbook when everyone heard this rumbling sound and a bestial moan coming from old Cantrell as she dropped her textbook and clutched her gut. At first nobody but Smitty realized that the fates finally had brought their swift Karmic justice as Mrs. Cantrell suddenly released a very audible fart which was followed by a foul smelling dark brown and yellowish liquid shit that soaked the teacher's skirt and ran down her legs.

After a couple of seconds of stunned silence, the room was a blitzkrieg of hoots, hollers, and the laughter of pure shadenfreude. And Mrs. Cantrell was not done. She was still shitting herself when she tried to make a hasty exit from the classroom. But in all the commotion and humiliation she'd lost her footing. The old bat slipped in the puddle of shit that was quickly forming underneath her and toppled onto the floor where she released the rest of her bowels just as Mr. Borland, who has his classroom next door stuck his head in the door to find out where all the noise was coming from.

By now several kids in the class took the commotion as an opportunity to dart out the door and skip school for the rest of the day. Those who stayed bore witness to the hellish scene of Mr. Borland (who meant to tell everyone to quiet down) stop dead in his tracks at the sight of Cantrell flopping around on the floor in agony.

Time stood still as the remaining kids saw Mr. Borland open his mouth wide enough to swallow the trash can by the door as he projectile vomited all over the floor and Mrs. Cantrell. John Ford who was sitting next to Smitty described it as disgusting goo consisting of partially digested scrambled eggs, milk, bacon, and sour stomach acid. The stench quickly overpowered everyone else but Smitty, and a few of the other kids projectile vomited as though they were cursed by a satanic chain reaction.

It wasn't long before one of the assistant principals showed up with the school nurse and everyone was ordered out of the room. By the next day, everyone was talking about what had happened in Mrs. Cantrell's room. Once they got Mrs. Cantrell and Mr. Borland down to the nurse's office, I heard that they'd taken Cantrell's clothes and bundled them up before taking them outside by the dumpster. Supposedly one of the janitors was told to burn the evidence, but no one really knows what happened.

No one knew for sure what caused Mrs. Cantrell to get sick until Smitty's sister Emily mentioned handing out cupcakes at the faculty breakfast—then some of the kids put two and two together. After that, a lot of the kids decided that Smitty was all right especially since Mrs. Cantrell retired right after the incident without bothering to finish out the year. That's okay by most of us though. Thanks to Smitty we got Miss Lubbock who has these nice big tits and likes to wear low cut tops.