Baldi's wife divorces him and the Principal offers to allow Baldi a place to stay until he gets back on his feet. Drunken passion unleashes hidden feelings, while Baldi's ex-wife seeks revenge. What could possibly go wrong?
Cover art by: Ask-the-sc...
The wind whipped the trees on the sidewalk, as numerous cars whooshed by the highway making the same repetitive sound.
Baldi's body ached in pain, especially his legs, from walking so long. It had been at least two hours of nonstop walking along the never-ending highway. His eyes were red and puffy, and watery from exhaustion.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Photo by: baldi._.in._.liminal._.spaces on Instagram
He looked up at his destination, a metallic and cold-looking building with only a bus stop and bench nearby to the left. "Hereville House to End Homelessness," the worn-out sign read in black letters with no background.
Baldi walked inside, checking in as he had been for the past two weeks, filled with shame and humiliation as he passed the volunteer check-in lady.
As he passed the counter several homeless people were in groups gathered together. They didn't like Baldi—they all could tell he was just a former middle-class reject.
Baldi's eyes were sore and before he made his way to his usual spot he grabbed a newspaper from the black metallic stand next to the restrooms. He walked cautiously to his designated bed somewhere in the center of the masses of beds. Luckily, it was unusually quiet; he hoped to read in peace for once. He flipped over to the job listings immediately and began looking desperately for any teaching positions.
Baldi scanned for the words 'education,' 'teacher,' or 'school.'
"Nothing. As expected," Baldi grumbled miserably. Baldi let out a frustrated puff of breath and wiped his forehead from sweat. There was no air conditioning on his side of the shelter. "Enough of this, there's no hope for me here," Baldi thought to himself in agony.
Baldi flipped out his smartphone, with just 10% battery left on it. He had to be quick, Internet was only allowed during certain hours of the day.
"Teaching positions near me," Baldi entered into the default search engine with a frown.
The phone took what felt like hours to load. Baldi grabbed his ruler from under the bed and acted like he was about to hit the damn phone. That's when 1 million search results popped up. All of the positions were at least 300 miles from his current location. Baldi sighed and grabbed out a notebook from under the bed and jotted down all the phone numbers he possibly could in 15 minutes until his phone died.
Baldi grabbed his chin and placed his elbow on his thigh and glanced at the 35 different phone numbers in the notebook on his lap. He had a lot of calls to make and a long line to the public phone to fight through before the end of the day.
~
Playtime swung on the swing set with a creak each time she went up in the air. The Bully leaned against the green metal frame as he watched Playtime go up and down in the yellow swing.
"So, we need to think of a plan fast," Bully echoed looking up and down, eyeballing Playtime.
"Yeah!" Playtime exclaimed as she slowed down, jumping from the swing landing only a couple of feet from the swing. She darted up to the Bully and asked "but what?" with her head tilted to one side.
"Hmmm..." Bully mumbled. "Maybe just find a way to get Susan fired? Or my dad?" Bully suggested with an uncertainty.
"Bully, how can we get them fired? They are grown-ups... Plus how can we get Mr. Baldi back?" Playtime doubtfully added with a pouty frown.
A large shadow was behind them and engulfed the two children, startling them. "Eek!" Playtime and the Bully squealed.
-
"Well, well, well children..." a brash woman's voice came from the large figure behind them.
The two children froze in fear, turning around inch by inch to see their doom.
"Huh—Mrs. Pomp!?" Bully echoed with surprise.
Playtime clasped her hands together, looking up at the large shoe lady with a mixture of fear and relief.
"Yes children, I volunteered to watch recess for Joe, your father, right Bully?" Mrs. Pomp admitted with her creepy clown-like smile. "I have to confess when I heard you two trying to get rid of Joe and his... Assistant. I was beyond puzzled." The Bully and Playtime gulped simultaneously and looked at each other and back at Mrs. Pomp. "We aren't in trouble, are we?" Playtime whimpered.
"Ho ho ho...!" The large curly blonde shoe lady bellowed. "Of course not..." she assured with her nose crinkled.
"I'm actually delighted!" She hopped playfully and returned her crooked gaze to the children. "See, I absolutely HATE the two new teachers here." She pursed her big red-painted lips and looked to her left, at the door inside, to be sure no one was eavesdropping. "And I, like you two seem to, I miss Baldimore." She cleared her throat loudly, "I will do anything to accompany you on your little scheme," Mrs. Pomp cheered.
Bully and Playtime looked at Mrs. Pomp with squinted eyes and a daze of confusion. "So, you're actually with us on destroying their careers?"
Playtime leaped with joy "And to get Mr. Baldi back?!"
"Yes! In fact, I am... But you mustn't tell ANYONE about this. OR ELSE," she said with a darkened and disturbing facial expression, her mouth open showing her yellow teeth.
"Okay..." the Bully echoed with a look of relief as the children continued to make loud noises and playing and whatnot in the distance.
"We are planning to get Susan and my dad—Joe—fired," Bully said with a naughty gleam in his eye and his hands running together. "But we want Baldi back too, I mean Playtime says the Principal is acting weird without him," Bully said unclasping his hands and pointing to Playtime. "Do you have any ideas?" Bully asked hoping it was worth a shot.
"Hmmm... Find some way to create evidence they are doing something wrong! Like uh photos or a tape recording," Mrs. Pomp beamed with her ego polished "I know Principal of the Thing, he has to see it to believe it," she added.
"I got it!" Bully exclaimed with his finger raised, turning to Playtime. "We have to get a confession tape. Like in the crime movies!" He felt like a detective as he put the pieces together to sketch out a plan.
"Mrs. Pomp," Bully echoed as he looked her in the eye, cupping his chin. "Will you help us to squeeze a tape into the teacher's lounge?" Bully asked with a pool of doubt in his eyes.
A poker face invaded Mrs. Pomp's overly painted face making the two children nervous. In a jolt, she jumped up and smiled widely "Of course children! I'll set it up before I leave today and then we can see," her eyes glared in the sun intensifying her appearance "the results."
