The Headmaster of MacDonald Hall looked with cold, one might almost say fishy eyes at the boy
seated on the uncomfortable hardwood bench.
"Well, young man, you've had quite a busy day, haven't you? First, there was my underwear hanging from the
flagpole. Then there was the alarm clock hidden in the classroom, and set to ring so that your algebra class was
dismissed fifteen minutes early. And finally," the Headmaster continued, "we had the gelatin in the bathtubs. Quite
a bit of mischief for one boy to cause in one day, don't you think?"
"Yes, sir," the boy conceded, "but how did you know it was me?"
"Because," the Headmaster answered, "it's always you."
"I do not know what to do about that boy," the Headmaster complained to his wife.
"Oh," she soothed him, "there really wasn't any harm done."
"I suppose you are right," the Headmaster admitted. "Let's just hope that he will outgrow
his mischievous tendencies."
"Someday," the Headmaster's wife mused "that boy might even be the Headmaster of the school."
The Headmaster shook his head in disbelief.
William Sturgeon, Headmaster of MacDonald Hall?
Such a thing could never happen.