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Ghoul School


Mary Vigliante Szydlowski

Text Copyright © 2017

Mary Vigliante Szydlowski

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without the express written permission of the publisher

except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

To Frank and Carrie,

Thank you for all your love and support through the years. I couldn't have done it without you!

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

A Note from Mary Vigliante Szydlowski

About the Author

Chapter 1

Mr. Gordon looked up as teachers and staff members rushed into his office.

"These children are monsters!" Mrs. Davis cried as she wiped a glob of lasagna from her face. She was in charge of the cafeteria. "The third graders didn't like today's lunch. They went crazy! They started a food fight.! Now there's peanut butter and jelly, pudding, and globs of tuna and egg salad all over everything. The ceiling, the walls, the floor. It looks like a bomb went off in the cafeteria. It’s a mess!"

"You think that's bad?" complained Mr. Schwartz, the art teacher. "Look at this!" He held up a can filled with crayons.

"What's the problem?" Mr. Gordon asked.

"The children didn't want to do the project I planned for today. They poured glue all over the crayons. Now we can’t do any work because there is nothing to color with. I've got twelve buckets of crayons in the art room and every single one of them looks like this," he said, holding up a sticky clump of crayons.

"Never mind about that," Miss Turnbill, the librarian, interrupted. "The children clogged the sinks in the upstairs bathrooms and left the water running during recess so the library would flood and they wouldn't have to do their research projects. Even worse, they glued the pages of this month's featured reading books together. We have no more books on autumn! No more books on Halloween! No more books on identifying colored leaves or fall crafts! Everything is ruined! They even hid volumes M, B, and U of the encyclopedia!

The words were barely out of her mouth when Mr. Gordon heard splishing and splashing.

Suddenly water gushed through the door. It soaked the carpet. Everyone jumped out of the way. Everyone except Mrs. Rollins. She was bent over and couldn't move very fast.

It was then that Mr. Gordon noticed she had a chair stuck to her back. "What happened to you?"

"The fourth graders didn't want to take their English test. They put glue on my chair so I couldn't pass out the papers." Mrs. Rollins started to cry. "They didn’t use paper or wood glue. Oh no! They used the bad stuff. The stuff that bonds to anything. The stuff you can lift a car with. And now I’m stuck here. My skirt is glued to the chair. My underwear is glued to my skirt. And my bottom is glued my underwear,” she wailed.

"There, there, don’t cry. We’ll get you unstuck,” Mr. Gordon assured her. “We’ll call 911. I’m sure the fire department can figure out a way to free you.” He looked over at Mrs. Ramos. His eyes widened. Her nose was bright red. Like a cherry. "Did something happen to you too?" he asked.

"The first graders didn't like the story we were going to read a…a…achoo today. So someone put black pepper a…a…achoo in my handkerchief. They thought I'd be so busy sneezing, I wouldn't be able to a…a…achoo read it to them," she explained between sneezes.

"That's not all of it," Mr. Schwartz blurted out. "Someone in Mrs. Kerplotkin's second grade put a black rubber spider on top of the globe. When she spun it around to show the children where the Pacific Ocean was, it flew off, landed in her hair, and she fainted. We had to carry her down to the nurse’s office. And poor Mrs. Bloomberg ran screaming from her room. She’s hiding in the janitor's closet. Her third graders kept scraping their fingernails across the blackboard and dumping their books on the floor. It drove her crazy. She’s sitting on the floor, rocking back and forth. She’s got a pail on her head and she’s babbling. I think she needs to go to a hospital!”

"The children are out of control. They’re acting like little savages,” Mrs. Rollins sniffled as Mr. Schwartz tried to pull her off the chair. "They're destroying the school!"

Mr. Gordon tried to help Mr. Schwarz. So did Mrs. Davis and Mrs. Turnbill. But it was no use. Their efforts made things worse. The chair broke, but poor Mrs. Rollins was still stuck to the seat.

"They don't want to learn," Mrs. Ramos chimed in, blowing her nose. "All they want to do is a...a…achoo fool around."

Just then the school nurse, Mrs. Romero, came running in. "There are 10 teachers in the faculty room!" she announced. "Someone poured brown shoe polish in the coffeemaker. It made them all sick. And the 5th graders took the screws out of Mr. Unger's chair. When he sat down, it fell apart. He's lying on the floor. He says he's seeing stars."

"Mr. Gordon! Mr. Gordon!" two voices cried. It was Sara Jane Kendall and Hector Fuentes, the smartest kids in 5th grade. Their faces were covered with splatters of blue ink.

What happened to you?" The principal looked dismayed. Just what he needed…another problem!

"Justin Cooper, Kyle Swenson, Liz Cowen and Tommy Susa exploded pens in our faces because we both got 100 on the math test and they failed it!" Hector sputtered.

"How awful," Mr. Gordon grabbed some tissues and tried to wipe the ink off their faces. The ink didn't come off. It smeared. "This isn't working," he told them. "You'll have too wash it off with soap."

"But we can't use the bathrooms," Sara objected. "There's water all over the floor."

"Well go downstairs then. And hurry before the ink stains your skin blue."

"Great," Hector muttered, pushing Sara out the door. "I've always wanted to look like a Smurf."

"Mr. Gordon," another voice boomed, "What is going on around here? How can I possibly be expected to keep this school clean and everything in working order when the children are running wild." It was Mr. Pratt, the janitor. "The spitballs are an inch deep on the floors, someone put gum in the computer disk drives and the kick balls in the gym have pinholes in them. The kids scribble all over their desks and mark up the walls and blackboards too. They've got no respect for school property! Right now the kindergarteners are dumping sand out of their sandbox and rubbing it in each other's hair. The 1st graders are rubbing paste on the walls. The 2nd graders are throwing their spelling books out the windows. The 3rd graders are grinding pieces of chalk into the floor and pounding each other with the chalkboard erasers. The 4th graders are racing up and down the halls knocking on doors. And the 5th graders made a pyramid out of their desks and are swinging from the light fixtures. The students have taken over! This is a zoo, not a school!"

While he was talking, Mrs. Davis, Miss Turnbill and Mrs. Romero were busy trying to figure out a way to separate poor Mrs. Rollins from her seat. Mrs. Davis held onto the chair, while Miss Turnbill and Mrs. Romero each tugged on one of the woman's arms. "OK, on the count of three," Mrs. Davis said. "One, two three." They pulled with all their might. There was a loud rip as Mrs. Rollins went in one direction and the chair went in the other. Unfortunately part of her outfit remained glued to the seat, leaving a huge hole in the back of her dress.

A loud bang shook the walls.

"What was that?" Miss Turnbill screamed.

A few moments later Mrs. Bloomberg staggered in.

"What was that noise?" Mr. Pratt asked. "It sounded almost like an explosion."

"It was an explosion!" Mrs. Bloomberg answered, trying to catch her breath. "The 4th graders used their chemistry set to blow up the music room piano!"

The teachers looked at each other and shook their heads. This was terrible! P.S. 19 was out of control! Whatever would they do?

Chapter 2

Mr. Gordon scratched the bald spot on top of his head and tried to think. "You know, I just saw an ad about a company that solves school problems like this."

"Where?" Mrs. Ramos wanted to know, trying to keep from sneezing.

"In a magazine. It's got to be here somewhere."

Papers went flying as the teachers dug through the mess on top of his desk. They searched through his drawers and bookshelves. And the cardboard boxes piled one on top of another in the corner. But the magazine wasn't there. Mr. Gordon finally found it in his wastebasket.

He quickly thumbed through the pages as the teachers gathered round. "See. Here it is." He pointed to the ad.

"Witchery and Spells Education Services," he read aloud. "We help problem schools. Are you having trouble teaching? Would your students rather fool around than learn? Are they loud and badly behaved? Do they refuse to pay attention and follow directions? Would they rather play than study? Let our staff of trained professionals help you. Just like magic we'll change your school for the better. Our special program motivates students to pay attention, study hard, and behave."

"There's not much chance of that happening here," Mr. Schwartz snorted.

"It's worth a...a…achoo try," Mrs. Ramos insisted.

"What's the number?" Miss Turnbill asked.

"It's 1-800-WITCHES," he responded. "Do you really think we should call them?"

Everyone nodded.

Mr. Gordon dialed the number.

"Witchery and Spells" the voice at the other end cackled. "How may we help you?"

"This is Miles Gordon, principal of P.S. 19. We're having a bit of a problem with some of our students and were wondering if maybe you could help."

"Why certainly," the voice replied. "I'll send someone right over. Goodbye."

"But…but..." before he could finish the sentence they'd hung up. " I didn't get a chance to tell them our address," he told the others. "I'd better call back."

Chapter 3

He was dialing the number again, when he heard someone knocking. He looked up and saw a strange looking woman standing in the doorway. She was wearing a black dress, black stockings and short black boots with laces. She had long dark hair and was quite pretty, except for her skin. It looked green. Maybe she wasn't feeling wel1.

"Can I help you?" Mr. Gordon asked.

"No. I'm here to help you!" she stated.

"Excuse me?" Mr. Gordon was puzzled.

"I'm from Witchery and Spells Education Services."

Mr. Gordon looked shocked. Mrs. Rodriquez was amazed. Mr. Pratt couldn't believe his ears.

"But we just called, not more than a minute ago," Mr. Gordon said. "How did you get here so fast?"

"We pride ourselves on quick service," she told him.

"But how did you know where we were? I never got a chance to give the lady our address."

She ignored his question and continued. "The students seem to be acting up today. Are they always like this?"

Mr. Gordon looked at Mrs. Bloomberg. Mr. Schwartz looked at Miss Turnbill. Mr. Pratt turned to Mrs. Davis. Mrs. Ramos just continued to sneeze. But no one said a word.

"They're not always this bad," Mr. Gordon blushed, embarrassed. "Just sometimes." He didn't sound very convincing.

"Do you think you can do something with the little monsters? I mean dears," Mrs. Bloomberg asked.

"I'm sure of it! One day with our highly trained staff and the children will become model students: well-behaved and eager to learn."

"You must be kidding," Mr. Schwartz muttered. "You'd have to be a magician to turn these little devils into angels."

"Our staff is very capable," she reassured him.

"Yes. I'm interested in learning more about your staff Miss..." Mr. Gordon didn't know her name.

"Oh I'm sorry," she apologized. "I've forgotten to introduce myself haven't I? My name is Winifred Witcher. I'm the owner of the company.

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