Chase Me (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 4: All The World's a Stage

"Good afternoon, class," Mr. Strident bellows as he marches into the room. His voice cascades throughout the vast auditorium, filling in each little crevice with sound and volume. "I hope you've had a wonderful first day so far; only 364 more days to go until you can finally leave."

We all nod in silence.

Mr. Strident stares at us peculiarly as if we'd just told him he's pregnant.

"My goodness, seniors!" He screeches deafeningly, causing me to twitch in surprise. "Thy voices are of equivalence to the sound of a pin dropping on hardwood floor. It's almost as if your taste for life has vanquished, as if the color from your palettes have been drained."

Mr. Strident speaks like this quite a lot, as it only adds to his exuberant and theatrical personality.

"I understand that you are of senior age, but that does not mean you are simply to drop your love for education," Mr. Strident adds, motioning flamboyantly around him. He's now made his way on to the stage, and is posing in front of us like he's holding the world on one hand. "Even in times where we feel it is not necessary, we must still strive for only the best. Only those who utilize their passion and drive become the most successful."

Tristan, who's sitting next to me, raises his eyebrows, as we watch Mr. Strident dance on stage while reciting his own monologues about the meaning of life.

"He's very weird," I whisper to him comically. "He thinks he's the reincarnation of Shakespeare."

Tristan giggles at my remark, and nods his head in my direction. "I can see that," he replies back.

"... then soon, only after you choose to ignore the proverbial expectations of society, can you fully encompass the butterfly waiting to hatch inside of you." Mr Strident is now on the floor of the stage, with his hand out pointing towards the audience and the other holding his chest. He is imitating the very moment in which Macbeth is stabbed by Macduff in Shakespeare's world renowned play Macbeth. Everyone else around me seems to have failed in relating Macbeth's death to Mr. Strident's sentiment about ignoring societal expectations, as did I. But nevertheless, I stood up and began clapping for him enthusiastically in an attempt to halt him from saying anymore.

Soon enough, everyone else in the class got the jist and followed my lead by clapping and cheering for our theater teacher as well. Tristan smiled at me in amusement. "Thanks for that," he whispers over me.

"I couldn't take any more of it," I whisper with a smirk.

"Thank you, everyone, please, really," Mr. Strident yells out to the class as he bows and indirectly motions for us to continue clapping. He's extra, like me. After his ego was finally satisfied, he then asks the class to sit down and does the same on the edge of the stage.

"So, what did I just do?" Mr. Strident asks, almost as if he was looking for an answer on the philosophical realm. The students looked at one another for answers, unable to provide him with what he wanted. No, really though, what did he do? No one knows for sure.

A girl in a pink Versace jacket raises her hand hesitantly, her dreads bouncing at the suddent movement of her head.

"Yes, Janelle," Mr. Strident points to the brave soul.

"I'm gonna take a wild guess here, but did you just do a reenactment of Macbeth?"

Pretty sure that was everyone's guess.

"Precisely," Mr. Strident answers through his rimmed spectacles. "But not quite. Don't look at the physical aspect of it. Reach into your psyche and try to understand it poetically." This just made it even more confusing. The class again looked around for another willing soul.