Sometimes Twitter makes you do things. Sometimes those things include writing a one-sentence story. Everyone else’s stories are here. God bless Twitter.
I told my teacher, the great and terrible Mrs. Glork, who once brought sulfured frogs for lunch and liked to tell us how the steam-vents on her home world perfumed the air with gentle poisons and who had taken the title “Mrs.” although none of us were sure she was married or even female, about the chemical spill at the lab table in the back–but she (great and terrible) sniffed her wide nostrils at us, and said we ought to be old enough to handle it ourselves, so when the vapors rose and began knocking us down a row at a time, she squatted at the front of the room, breathing fumes through her great and terrible nose, and watched us fall (despicable teenagers!), and watched us writhe (human scum!), and as we fought each other to get into the hallway, she opened her cavernous mouth–and she laughed.