The luckiest boy in the world

It all started when I realised my life was in danger.

There was only one portion of lasagne left in front of Daisy – the lovely, friendly, clean dinner lady – and if I didn’t get to it, I’d have to get my lunch from the serve yourself salad bar guarded by Dirty Betty – the most disgusting, snotty, mud-smeared dinner lady of all time. Just looking at her reminded me of the time that me, Mum and Dad got food poisoning on holiday in Greece and had to get the hotel to give us another room so that we didn’t have to share one toilet. Gross. I did NOT want that to happen again, thank you very much.

Alright then, Gilbert. What’s your problem? Get the lasagne and calm down, I imagine you would say.

If only it were that simple, I would reply. (I would then gaze wistfully into the middle distance mysteriously until you shook me hard to return me to my senses. My imaginary self is a pretty mysterious guy).

But truly, it wasn’t that simple. The problem was that there was a small crowd between me and the lasagne. A quick risk assessment told me that I could discount two of them; Rani always brought food in from home and Jake doesn’t eat anything but chips. Bad news was that still left two year 6 rugby players, one small but nimble looking first year girl and Gnasher Dawson.

Gnasher (real name unknown) got his name back in nursery school when he became famous for biting everyone. All the time. You’d think he would have grown out of it by now but Oliver Teal in 5D swears he has a permanent teeth marks on his shoulder from last term’s inter-form hockey match, he’ll show you the scar for 50 pence.

Now, going up against Gnasher Dawson for a portion of lasagne – or really anything – is not something that an intelligent guy like me would normally even consider but desperate times call for desperate measures. I started walking as fast as I could towards Daisy’s smiling face without drawing attention to myself, wishing as hard as I could that something would happen to stop the others getting there first.

Gnasher noticed me and an evil grin appeared on his face. The first year reached for a tray. Gnasher kept his eyes locked on mine as he walked towards the first year. The first year picked up a tray. A loud noise came from the other side of the canteen. Gnasher ignored it and kept on coming. The first year turned round to see what it was and swung her tray right into Gnasher’s face. Gnasher went down. The first year screamed and dropped the tray heavily onto his face. Teachers came running to see what had happened and check that everyone was okay. I used the distraction to slip the lasagne onto my tray and quietly disappear into the crowd feeling smug.

As I walked away, I felt like the luckiest boy in the world – the only thing that would make this better would be if Gnasher lost his teeth in the accident.

‘What’s that?’ I heard someone say from the middle of the kerfuffle. ‘On the floor covered in blood. Is that – oh my god, it is – that’s his teeth.’

Yes, that’s when it all started. And it just got better from there.

The original prompt for this post came from 642 things to write about: young writer’s edition by the San Francisco Writer’s Grotto.

“You notice that all the clocks have begun to move too slowly”

It sparked off so many ideas that the finished piece doesn’t really bear too much resemblance to the prompt but that’s why I love using them so much!

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