Mr. Kornelly was my teacher during the 97-98 school year. I was a sophomore then, and his English class was my first of the day. One of my fondest memories of him occurred one wintry day that year, bright and early in the morning. It was an unusual start to the day. Before class began, all of us students were standing in the hallway, half-asleep, outside our locked classroom. After a long time waiting for Mr. Kornelly, a woman from the English department, who wed never seen before, came by instead. She unlocked the door and said that shed be taking over the class for the day. She informed us that Mr. Kornelly was running late due to the inclement, snowy weather. Rumor had it that his car wouldnt start. As we groggily gathered in and took our seats, the woman settled in as well, standing at Mr. Kornellys desk. All eyes were on her, minutes later, as she was all set to take attendance. BUT THEN-- as soon as she turned to face the class, she looked to the other corner of the room, and let out a blood-curdling scream. Startled by the intensity of that scream, we all looked as well. Standing in the doorway, a few feet away, was a tall man wearing a black ski mask, just staring at the woman. No words, no movement, no emotion... all menace. It freaked us students out as well. However, before we could let out a corresponding shriek of our own, the woman started laughing hysterically, confusing us all. She finally said, through her intense chuckling... Doug! We were still very much in a state of confusion, as none of us knew who Doug was-- other than the masked man from our nightmares who was about to turn our young lives into a scene from a classic horror flick. Finally, ending our confused and freaked out emotions, the threatening man named Doug broke his silence. In a deadpan tone, he spoke through his black ski mask... El Niño sucko. It was then that we got it. You could suddenly feel a collective sigh of relief among the students in the classroom. That man had Mr. Kornellys voice. That man was Mr. Kornelly himself. So much for his car not working. And so much for us being half-asleep. B| HAPPY 68TH BIRTHDAY to that tall, menacing man that scared us shitless one morning. To this day, I can still feel the adrenaline and cortisol running through my veins. Thanks a lot, El Niño.
Posted on: Tue, 20 Jan 2015 23:55:48 +0000
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