A Quick Burst of Prose, With Reference to the Mafia
The bell had gone for lunch break, the children rushed to the teacher's desk to hand in their homework, grab their packed lunches and enjoy the sunshine. Waiting until he was alone with the teacher in the room, 7 year old Timmy, sauntered up to the desk with purpose. He paused to check his reflection in a nearby urinestain before continuing his progress to the front of the class.
"Timmy, where is your homework?" Asked the Teacher, a condescending look settling on her grim features as she set eyes upon his empty hands.
"Well miss. I was thinking that it might be in your best interests if I don't hand in my homework this week." Replied Timmy, twiddling his pimp cane idly.
"You see, it all makes sense." interrupted Timmy, keen to emphasise the necessity of the situation.
"For the last time Timmy, where is you're homework?" The Teacher folded her arms in a firm gesture of finality. As far as she was concerned the matter was closed. Timmy still seemed to think otherwise.
"The way I see it miss is that I don't hand in my homework everything will stay, shall we say, 'peachy'."
"My patience is wearing thin. Give, me, the homework."
"Let's just say that if we forget about this homework then no one will have an, unfortunate accident."
"Are you threatening me?"
"Not at all miss. Not at all. All I'm saying is that unless you drop the whole homework issue right now, I will hunt you down and kill you like a dog. Figuratively Speaking."