The Wizzle War Read Free Page B

points for all breaking of rules: Anyone accumulating ten demerit points will see me in my office, and I will assign the appropriate punishment. Demerits can be assigned by any member of the teaching staff. There will be frequent dormitory inspections, so we expect a lot of spit and polish in the rooms, hmmm?”
    Mr. Wizzle paused and beamed at them. “You are probably asking yourselves how I can do all this work. Well, I have a special assistant. It’s called WizzleWare — the most advanced educational and administrative software program in the world today. Join with us as we bring Macdonald Hall into the vanguard of Canadian private schools.” He stopped for applause. There was none.
    “That is, of course, not without some feedback from you students,” Wizzle continued. “There will be a suggestion box in the front hall of each dormitory. I welcome your suggestions on how we can all make Macdonald Hall a better place.”
    “I know how we can make Macdonald Hall a better place!” growled Bruno under his breath. “Kick
him
out!”
    Mr. Wizzle pointed to Bruno. “You in the fifth row — yes, you with the red tie. What’s your name?”
    Bruno stood up. “Walton, sir. Bruno Walton.”
    From his jacket pocket Mr. Wizzle produced a note pad and pencil. “Bruno Walton,” he said scribbling on the pad. “Five demerits for unseemly conduct during assembly.” He gazed out over the crowd. “That will be all. You are dismissed.”
    No one moved.
    Mr. Sturgeon stood up. “You may go,” he said quietly.
    The boys began to file out of the auditorium. Sidney Rampulsky got to his feet. An odd look came over his face and he announced loudly, “I don’t feel very well.” He tottered a few steps and then keeled over, out cold. An entire row of chairs went down with him.
    “It’s his tie!” bellowed Bruno, pushing his way toward the fallen Sidney. “Loosen his tie! Stand back! Give him air!” He shoved at someone in a grey pinstripe suit.
    “Kindly stop pushing, Walton,” said the cold voice of Mr. Sturgeon, who had rushed from the platform to Sidney’s aid.
    Sidney’s eyelids fluttered open, and he looked up, smiling sweetly. “Oh, Mr. Sturgeon, I had a little accident this morning.”
    The Headmaster sighed. “I’ve told you to be more careful with yourself, Rampulsky. What happened to you this time?”
    “It was all because of the dress code, sir,” piped Bruno. “He was —”
    “Thank you, Walton. Rampulsky is capable of speech.”
    “I was tying my tie,” explained Sidney weakly, “when suddenly the fixture came down on my head.”
    “See?” said Bruno triumphantly. “The dress code!”
    “Bruno Walton,” called the voice of Mr. Wizzle. “Your remarks and interruptions are uncalled-for. That will beanother two demerits.”
    Mr. Sturgeon suppressed a strange smile. “Come along, Rampulsky,” he said, helping Sidney to his feet. “I think perhaps you’d better spend some time in the infirmary.”
    * * *
    “Bruno, will you calm down!” exclaimed Boots in exasperation.
    “Walter C. Wizzle!” steamed Bruno in disgust. “The demerit system!”
    “You’re only upset about that because you got slapped with the first ones,” argued Boots.
    “Your turn will come,” Bruno snarled. “He’s out to get all of us!” He ripped off his tie and threw himself backward onto his bed. “He called Macdonald Hall out of date — ‘in danger of becoming a dinosaur!’ Well, let me tell you right now that
this
dinosaur is going to stomp all over his face!”
    Boots sat down heavily at his desk. “What can we do about it? He was hired by the school, probably by the Board of Directors.”
    “Well, we sure can’t let him ruin the Hall like this!” exclaimed Bruno. “Where’s that suggestion box?
I
have a suggestion!”
    “You’ll only get more demerits for that kind of suggestion,” warned Boots.
    “I don’t intend to sign it,” said Bruno. “Anyway, it’s all decided. Wizzle must