I Want To Be The Girl With The Most Cake

A bomb goes off in a high school parking lot and a guidance counselor finds herself trapped in her office with no way to get to the restroom.

 

“I Want To Be The Girl With The Most Cake”

 

On a Thursday, sometime in late February, at approximately 1:22 PM, there was an explosion in the back parking lot of Heidegar Public High School.  Shocking as it was, the only victims of this crime were a large fur tree and the unsuspecting Buick LeSabre it landed on.  Be that as it was, it still caused an uproar—being that said incident occurred during school hours.  This caused the administration to declare a state-of-emergency and put this building on lockdown (a hasty decision, most thought, considering there could have very well been a bomb somewhere in the building as well).

                Meanwhile, in the guidance office, Claudia Rutherford (guidance counselor to juniors A through N, and seniors O through Z) was passed out underneath her desk after having a rum-and-valium cocktail for lunch and was completely unaware of pandemonium going on outside of her office.  It was then that someone came knocking at her door.

                “Miss Rutherford!  Miss Rutherford, we have a situation!”  The voice on the other side of the door exclaimed, jolting her into consciousness and causing her to hit her head on the desk—this might have phased her, had she not been so strung-out on liquor and medication.

                She crawled out from under the desk and staggered over to the door.  She opened it to find a man entirely too gray for his age standing in front of her: it was the principal, Mr. Cartwright.

                “… What?”  She asked.

                “Miss Rutherford, did you pass out on the job again?”  He asked.

                “Mr. Cartwright!  I’m insulted! … Insulted!”  She replied.  “… But, yes, if must know, I might have dozed off a little.  My job is very stressful!  Do you understand how much it sucks listening to kids b***h about how they want their schedules changed all day?!”

                “… They throw garbage at me.”  Mr. Cartwright said, becoming very solemn.  There was a moment of awkward silence before Claudia spoke up again.

                “… Did you want something?”

                “Oh!  Yes!  HPHS is under a state of emergency.”  He told her.

                “What for?”

                “Some kid blew up a tree.”

                “… A tree?”

                “A tree.”

                “… Gawd!  Kids are so stupid!”  Claudia exclaimed.  “If they were gonna blow something up they should have blown up that god-awful Buick LeSabre sitting out there!  It’s such an eyesore!”

                Mr. Cartwright glared at her.  “That’s my car… And the tree they blew up landed on top of it.”

                “… Oh.”

                “Yeah… So no leaving the office until further notice.”

                “But I have to pee!”

                “Tough.  You shouldn’t have spent your lunch hour getting sloshed.”

                Claudia scowled.  “What are you implying?”

                “That you’re a sloppy drunk.”  Mr. Cartwright told her, very simply.

                “… Well I resent that.”

                “… Have a nice day, Claudia.”  And with that, he was off.

                “But I still have to pee!”

 

 

                Fourty-five minutes later, with no word on whether or not the state of emergency would be lifted any time soon, Claudia was beginning to crack under the pain of her suffering bladder, and decided it would be in her best interest to urinate in the potted plant in the corner of the room.  It was the perfect crime; no one would ever suspect.  This, however, proved to be a more complicated endeavor than she had previously anticipated.  She was forced to pull the plant out into the center of the room, where she would have more space to maneuver around in.

                Finally, after ten or so minutes of struggling, she was in position overtop of the unsuspecting fichus plant.  Just then, Claudia heard the door latch and a young girl utter “Oh dear…”

                In a panicked frenzy, Claudia thrashed around on the floor, trying to pull up her underwear.

                “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?!  DON’T YOU KNOW WE’RE ON LOCKDOWN?!  WHAT THE F**K’S THE MATTER WITH YOU?!”  She exclaimed.

                Stunned, the girl replied, “The lockdown was lifted just a minute ago.”

                “… Oh.”

                “Uhh…” The girl had lost her train of thought.  “I… I had an appointment… with you... at, uhh… 1:45…but the lockdown and, umm… I’ll just reschedule.”  And without another word, the girl took off out of the guidance office like terrified rabbit.

 

 

                After being stuck in their classrooms for over two hours, the students of Heidegar Public were drunk with liberation.  Laughing, running, playing, and singing and impromptu version of “Hey Jude” could be heard and witnessed throughout the facility.  But Claudia Rutherford had no time for such nonsense: she was a woman on a mission.  That mission, of course, was the make it to the faculty bathroom before she pissed all down her leg.  Rampaging through the halls, she knocked over several unsuspecting students without remorse and kept going, until she reached the faculty lounge.  But she wouldn’t soon find relief.

                “Miss Rutherford!”  A shrill voice called as Claudia burst into the lounge.

                “NO TIME!”  Claudia exclaimed and darted towards the ladies’ room—but she was cut off.

                “Miss Rutherford, I really must talk to you now!”  The woman with the shrill voice insisted, standing between Claudia and the door.  It was the unpleasant home economics teacher:  Mrs. Sandra Carington-Buschmeyer.

                “It can wait!  I have to pee!”  Claudia cried.

                Mrs. Buschmeyer made a sour-looking face.  “That’s hardly any business of mine—and no, it can’t wait.  I have to get across town to pick up my four kids from grade school.”

                Mrs. Buschmeyer was known among the faculty as the “Girl With The Most Cake”.  The nickname predated Claudia’s employment at Heidegar, so she wasn’t exactly sure of the origins of it, but one can assume that it had something to do with the fact that, being the home economics teacher, she did indeed have quite a bit of cake.  However, in a rare moment of lucidity, Claudia had theorized that “cake” was being used as a metaphor for “the most going for her”.  Mrs. Buschmeyer was still young (in her early thirties), married to a wealthy businessman, with whom she had four children and a modest house in the suburbs, and she was still relatively thin, in spite of her occupation and rapid-fire pregnancies.  This was part of the reason why many of the younger faculty members disliked her so much—although, certainly the aspect of her being a nagging b***h factored into that as well.

                “Listen woman!  If you don’t get the hell outta my way, I’m gonna pop a squat right here in the faculty lounge—with everyone here watching—and piss all over those hideous penny-loafers you’re wearing!”  Claudia shrieked.

                “No you listen!  You said you were going to chaperone the Valentine’s Ball this weekend and you just bowed out at the last moment and now we’re short on chaperones!”  Mrs. Buschmeyer retorted.

                “… Are you f*****g kidding me?!  Are you kidding me?!  I don’t care!  I don’t care about some goddamn dance that’s been postponed twice already!  My fiancé and I are going out of town this weekend!  I can’t do it!  There’s no way around it!”  Claudia raved.  In all truth, she really did care that the dance was going to get canceled, but at this point the students almost expected it.  As she had mentioned, it had already been postponed twice due to bad weather from the Great Valentine’s Day Blizzard of 2006, and at the time she agreed to chaperone, she had every intention of fulfilling that agreement.

                “Girls, c’mon, let’s be civilized about this!”  A small woman with dark hair interjected.  It was the English teacher, Miss Jane Sloan; it was her first year teaching.

                “But out Sloan!  This has nothing to do with you!”  Mrs. Buschmeyer snapped; Claudia and Jane were friends and she knew this.

                “Now hold on, I’m just trying to help here.”  Jane assured her.  “I have a solution that’s gonna make everybody happy.”

                Claudia and Mrs. Buschmeyer looked at her quizzically.

                “… Well go on; I still have to pee you know!”  Claudia said.

                “I’ll chaperone the Valentine’s Ball this weekend; that way Claudia can go on her trip with her fiancé and there will still be enough chaperones.”  Jane explained.  “Sound good?”

                Mrs. Buschmeyer gave her a dirty look, but there was nothing she could say to contest that plan.  “Fine, so be it.”

 

 

                After that ordeal was finally finished, Claudia dashed into the restroom and into the nearest stall.  Jane followed her, but only went over to the sink to touch-up her make-up.

                “Oh holy Mary mother of God!”   Claudia cried out in relief.

                Jane laughed.  “Feel better?”

                “It was almost worth holding it that long, just to finally let out.”  Claudia replied.  “And I’da done it too!”

                “Peed on Sandy’s shoes?”  Jane asked.

                “Hell yes.”

                “I’d believe it.”

                “The nerve of that woman?!  Trying to tell me I have to stay home this weekend because of some goddamn dance that was supposed to be over and done with two weeks ago!”

                “I know, she’s crazy.”  Jane said.  “So, are you looking forward to your weekend away with Nathaniel?”

                “No really.”  Claudia replied from the stall.

                “Oh?  Why not?”

                “He’s cheating on me.”

                “You’ve been saying that for a while now…”

                “Yeah, but now I’m sure.”

                “What happened?

                “She bought him a watch.”  Claudia said.  “I found it in a box in his coat pocket.  It had a note inside of it…”  She became quiet.

                “… And it was incriminating.”  Jane said, after a moment.

                “Yeah.”  Claudia replied.  “Very incriminating.”

                “I’m sorry Claude…”

                “It’s not your fault; it’s not like you’re sleeping with him… You’re not, right Jane?”

                “Claudia, it’s been so long since I’ve had sex with anybody that I’m pretty sure there’s actually dust and cobwebs inside of my vagina.”

                Claudia laughed.  “Ya know… sometimes I with I was the girl with the most cake.”

                “No you don’t.”  Jane assured her.  “Have you seen the way her ankles swell up, or worse: her stretch marks?  It’s a sight to behold, lemme tell ya.”

                “Oh… I guess you’re right.”  Claudia said, emerging from the stall.  “Then forget I said anything.”

                “Forgotten.”

 

[end]