The fourth and final sequel to Revenge of the Homework. Enjoy.


It's been a long time since I've seen that face. Yet I don't miss it. How could I miss him, the mastermind, the villain, the murderor. Sherman. He's finally shown his true colours. They've been hidden for so long now, it seems. Hidden under the disguise of a teacher, like the face of a monster cloaked in a cover of darkness. And a monster is indeed very appropriate. Words cannot convey the amount of hate I bear for him. But yet, I am intimidated by his presence. I mean, a man capable of such wickedness would have no qualms about finishing me off. I was never a strong character. Like I care anymore, I think. Then Sherman spoke. He seems to be saying something about fixed expressions. I gulp. Perhaps he is going to bore me to death. Or maybe he'll assign twenty-seven compositions with a deadline of an hour, a task impossible for any sane human being to complete. The posibilities are endless. My death sentence might be more lenient, at any case. Fifteen practice papers to be finished at the end of two hours. Whatever. I'm going to die anyway, so what does it matter. Suddenly, I'm jerked out of my daydream. His piercing scream has just broken my train of thought. Now he's yelling about something, but I'm not listening. I collapse. What with swimming through a seemingly endless sea of homework and suddenly being confronted by my arch enemy, I'm exhausted. Sherman towers above me, that infuriating smirk plastered all over his face. He calls me a weakling. As I said, I was never strong. I feel like a tiny mouse, cowering in fear at the sight of the elephant, monstrous, mighty. I am left powerless at his feet. He cackles loudly, hurling insults and poking fun at my friends and me. Hearing those cruel words fall from his lips, the anger inside me grows, slowly but surely. All of a sudden, memories come flooding back to me. Then I recall: An elephant is afraid of a mouse. The confidence, courage and strength that had previously abandoned me come flooding back all at once. Then, my hand brushes against something, half-buried in the sand. It is a coconut. My energy returning, I look back to the direction where Sherman is standing, now babbling about past participles. I take to my feet and grab the coconut. The next thing I know, he's lying sprawled on the ground. I know it won't take long to pick himself up. I grab a big piece of driftwood that is strewn across the beach. Sheets of stray homework flies everwhere as I jump into the sea, paddling with all the remaining energy that I could muster. I drift further and further away from the little island until it becomes nothing but a speck in the horizon. It's going to be a long swim.