Chalk & Glock: The Armed Teacher

WARNING! This story is for mature audiences only. It contains strong language, extreme violence, and explicit sexual content. If you are underage or not mature enough, please refrain from reading this story. I have other writings that are more suitable for general audiences. I am not responsible for any hurt feelings.

DISCLAIMER: This story was written when I was around 20-21 years old back in 2017-2019. At that time, I found the world to be so absurd that it felt almost satirical to me. This story reflects that perspective at that time. It’s important to understand that this story is intended for mature readers who can appreciate the satirical elements within the writing. This story does not represent my general body of work, as I have refined my writing content and style over the years.

In a future where all teachers carry guns, a new teacher finds that his job is not what he was expecting.

Breaking News: Jetpack Shooter at Local School

In front of the school, emergency vehicles crowded the scene, their flashing lights casting an eerie glow. The news reporter, smirking with a sardonic twist of her lips, began her report. “This massacre marks the 767th mass shooting in America this year alone, breaking records as well as the number of dead when a student flew in on a jetpack and fired a laser rifle before crashing into the main office building, killing himself and many more.”

Suddenly, a man with a tinfoil hat burst onto the scene, pushing the reporter aside and seizing the microphone. 

“Jetpack fuel doesn’t melt school buildings! This is just a false flag by the government to take our laser guns away!” he ranted. 

The camera crew, disgusted by his antics, tackled the man, punching and stomping him into submission, yelling, “You’ve had your 15 minutes of fame!”

The camera returned to the reporter, who calmly continued her segment, the crazed individual being subdued in the background. “Back to you, Dave.”

Dressed in a suit, Jimmy Reese sat in the waiting room, his nerves evident as he fidgeted with his thumbs. “Mr. Stark will see you now,” the receptionist announced.

Taking a deep breath, Jimmy steeled himself as he recalled the interview questions, prepared for what awaited him. He entered the office, finding Mr. Stark, an older man with a cybernetic eye, absorbed in his holographic phone. The office walls boasted an array of sports players and their robotic teammates.

“Sit,” the grizzled man instructed without looking up.

Jimmy complied, waiting for Mr. Stark to acknowledge him. Finally, the older man put down his phone and fixed his gaze on Jimmy.

“So, why do you want to be a teacher here?” Mr. Stark asked, his expression unimpressed.

“Well, you see, Mr. Stark, I—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Mr. Stark interrupted, “I get it. You love kids. You have a doctorate degree in business, completed your training, and now you want to share the knowledge with the youth of America. How quaint. But let me tell you something—this isn’t 2020 anymore. Education isn’t enough.”

Jimmy furrowed his brow, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Do you know how many school shootings occur each week, on average? Five. Do you know how many times the same school is attacked? At least twice a school year. And you come here, a place where we haven’t had a good one in 5 years. You know what that tells me? It tells me you don’t want any of the action. But I’m sorry to break it to you— in order to have this job, you need these.”

Jimmy looked down where he noticed Mr. Stark clutching his own pair of nuts while staring Jimmy dead in the eyes across the table. 

Uncertain, Jimmy responded, “Sir?”

“Balls, my friend,” Mr. Stark said, staring intensely into Jimmy’s eyes. “And you need this.” He brandished a laser pistol from his desk, waving it in the air. “This right here is your baby. It’s your pride and joy. It’s your second cock, you hear me? But unlike your cock, no woman can take it from you because anytime it’s in her mouth, that means she’s getting her head blown off for blowing my brother’s load. You feel what I’m saying?”

Jimmy hesitated before nodding. “I think so, sir.”

Mr. Stark pointed the laser pistol at a target on the wall and fired, causing the target to disintegrate. 

“What are you going to do when a student points his laser rifle in your face and says, ‘Drop now motherfucker!’ Huh?” he demanded.

“I don’t—”

“Too late. You’re dead. But I’ll tell you what. I read your file, and among all the degrees and experience, one thing stuck out to me. You served in the military, and that’s the kind of person I need for this job. I served too, in the Continental Wars, so I know if you want a job done, you ask a Marine.”

“But, sir, I cleaned toilets. I never saw action.”

“Who cares? These days, people are so blinded by ‘patriotism’ that a plumber stationed in San Diego gets told, ‘Thank you for your service.’ It’s ludicrous! Do you want the job or not?”

Jimmy hesitated for a moment, contemplating the gravity of the situation. His mind raced, weighing the risks against the opportunity to make a difference. He swallowed hard, his resolve strengthening.

“Yes,” he finally answered, determination in his voice.

“Congratulations, you’re hired,” Mr. Stark announced, shaking Jimmy’s hand with force. “You’ll be sent to your training right away.”

“Training?”

“Yes, now get out of here. I have work to do.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Mr. Stark waved Jimmy off, sending him out the door. When he returned to the waiting room, he was met with a group of office workers, all facing him with smiles on their faces.

“Congratulations!” they cheered, clapping their hands.

As Jimmy stood there, he experienced a mix of emotions. Relief and happiness that he’d finally found a job, but also concern and anxiety about what he’d gotten himself into.

Jimmy entered a classroom filled with adults of various ages, engaged in hushed conversations. As he stumbled in, they hardly spared him a glance. He finally took a seat and surveyed the room. Suddenly, the door swung open, and a man with a silver buzz cut and a scar on his face marched in. He wore tan slacks and a tight, collar shirt that accentuated his muscular frame. Though short and stocky, his presence commanded attention.

“Everyone on your feet now!” he bellowed.

The room fell silent as everyone rose, Jimmy being the last to do so, still confused. The buzz-cut man paced down the rows, scrutinizing each person.

“I am Chief Sergeant McThundersnatch.”

A few stifled giggles emerged from the group.

“That’s funny, isn’t it?” McThundersnatch observed. “Well, it won’t be amusing when some lunatic student is threatening your life, will it?”

The laughter vanished, replaced once again by silence.

“My job is to whip you all into shape in the next two weeks so that when you leave here, you’re battle-ready and prepared to face any threat,” McThundersnatch continued, his face reddening as veins pulsed on his forehead. “Because right now, all I see is a group of inexperienced individuals who wouldn’t stand a chance against a third-grader armed with a pistol. And that makes me sick!”

“Understand that this is a place of equality. I don’t care what your race, gender, religion, or any other thing. I loathe you all equally, because you are all equally ill-prepared. My job is to mold you into efficient, fearless educators. Do you understand me?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” the room shouted.

“Wrong! I am a Chief Sergeant. You will address me as ‘Chief Sergeant.’ Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Chief Sergeant!”

“Pathetic! I’ve heard better from my deaf grandmother. Again!”

“Yes, Chief Sergeant!”

He continued pacing, scrutinizing each recruit.

“You’re all here for one of two reasons: one, you genuinely believe you can make a difference in these kids’ lives, or two, you just want the thrill of carrying a weapon and feeling important. Frankly, I don’t care which it is. All I care about is ensuring that you don’t catch a laser in the rear end out there. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Chief Sergeant!”

He stopped in front of a tall, lanky man with a smirk on his face.

“What’s your name, boy?” McThundersnatch asked.

“Willard Walls, sir!”

“Are you some kind of funny man, Mr. Walls?”

“No, Chief Sergeant.”

“Then wipe that idiotic smirk off your face.”

Walls’ expression turned serious.

“Why did you join my esteemed division?” McThundersnatch asked.

“I wanted to protect, Chief Sergeant.”

“Ah, a tough guy, eh? You think you’ve got what it takes?”

“Yes, Chief Sergeant.”

“We’ll see about that.”

The Chief kept walking until he stopped right in front of Jimmy, who didn’t flinch but swallowed hard, feeling nervous as his heart pounded.

“What’s your name?” the Chief asked.

“Jimmy Reese, Chief Sergeant.”

“Why did you join my esteemed division?”

“I want to make a difference, Chief Sergeant.”

McThundersnatch raised an eyebrow. “Well, we’ve got ourselves a true believer, don’t we? But let me tell you something, Reese, it’s going to take more than good intentions to survive in this line of work. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Chief Sergeant.”

“Good. Now, let’s begin.”

The first task they faced was a written examination, presented in multiple-choice format. Though it appeared simple at first glance, the questions were peculiar and perplexing.

A student has taken hostages, including both students and teachers. What do you do? A: Save the teachers B: Save the students C: Comply with the hostage-taker’s demands D: Fuck protocal, storm the room, and go balls to the walls in a blaze of glory. 

Jimmy scrutinized the options, unsure of which to select. He was fairly certain C wasn’t the answer, but in the end, he marked it anyway and moved on. Walls finished the test first, handing in his paper with confident strides. On his way back, he deliberately knocked Jimmy’s pencil from his grasp.

“Hey!” Jimmy protested, only to be met with Walls’ smug grin.

“Silence!” McThundersnatch commanded from his desk, engrossed in his phone.

Jimmy retrieved his pencil and resumed the exam. Once finished, they jogged around the school grounds, McThundersnatch leading from his motorized cart. Walls, running beside Jimmy, stuck out his foot and tripped him, leaving Jimmy face down in the mud as the others raced ahead.

“Get moving, Reese!” the chief barked, glancing back.

In the locker room, Jimmy wiped the mud from his face and changed his clothes. He couldn’t help but overhear Walls boasting to a group of recruits.

“I can’t wait to get this job. I’ll be shoving my gun in these punks’ faces and teaching them a lesson,” Walls bragged, eliciting laughter from the others. Walls caught sight of Jimmy walking by, head lowered.

“Hey, weakling,” Walls taunted, the others jeering in unison. “What’s the matter?”

“What’s your problem, man? You knocked my pencil away and tripped me. Why?” Jimmy demanded.

“It’s simple. I don’t like you. There’s always a leader and a follower. I’m the leader, and I chose you to be the follower,” Walls replied.

“We’re not in the military, man. We’re training to be teachers. We’ll be colleagues, and you’re trying to one-up me,” Jimmy retorted.

“I don’t care if we were working with the elderly. Wherever I am, I dominate, and you submit,” Walls declared.

Disgusted, Jimmy shook his head and walked away, only for Walls to fling a soggy ball of paper at his head.

Laughter filled the room as Jimmy stopped then kept walking away. 

“What a pussy,” one recruit scoffed.

The following day, the trainees were led to the vacant football field, where an array of targets had been set up. Each target was a cutout of a young person holding a weapon.

“Here, we’ll practice our marksmanship,” Chief McThundersnatch informed them.

Beside them was a crate brimming with an arsenal of firearms—automatics, pistols, semis, and more.

“This is what I’ve been waiting for!” Walls exclaimed.

“Walls, quiet down!” the chief ordered.

Ignoring the command, Walls eagerly grabbed an automatic assault rifle from the crate.

“Walls, put that down right now!” Chief McThundersnatch insisted.

“What’s the issue, Chief Sergeant?” Walls asked, cocking the rifle and pointing it skyward. “I know what I’m doing.” He turned to Jimmy. “Hey Reese watch closely. This is what I’m going to do to your face”

Laughing, Walls sprinted toward the targets and fired at each one, hitting them dead center.

“Walls, return to your position!” the chief demanded.

Ecstatic, Walls continued firing. “This is incredible! I love—”

Suddenly, the ground beneath Walls erupted, catapulting him into the air. As he landed, they saw that he was missing an arm and a leg, while his other arm dangled precariously. Bones protruded, and blood smeared his face. Screaming in agony, Walls writhed in the dirt.

“This is why you listen!” Chief McThundersnatch roared. “These fields are laced with mines for training purposes. Let this serve as a lesson in the consequences of recklessness.”

“Please help me!” Walls sobbed. “I can’t take the pain!”

“Don’t move, you fool. I’ll need to disarm the mines, which will take about 45 minutes,” the chief informed him.

“No, I can’t wait that long!” Walls wailed.

“You should have considered that before trying to play the hero,” the chief replied coldly.

Ignoring the warnings, Walls began crawling toward the group.

“Stop moving!” the recruits shouted.

“Walls, another mine will detonate if you keep moving!” the chief warned. “Damn it all,” he muttered, grabbing a sniper rifle from the crate and aiming at Walls’ head.

“Please, I want my mom,” Walls whimpered.

“Don’t worry, you’ll see that old bitch soon,” the chief whispered under his breath.

The shot rang out, and Walls’ head burst open, his skull shattered and his brain exposed. The trainees gaped in horror.

“Why did you do that, Chief Sergeant?” Jimmy asked.

“If I hadn’t, he might have triggered more mines and ruined the entire course. Besides, he’s better off dead in that state.”

“But we have cybernetics. They could have replaced his limbs, Chief Sergeant.”

“Are you questioning me, Reese?” the chief barked. “I won’t waste resources on him. The contract and law allow me to perform a mercy killing.” He addressed the trainees. “Now, everyone line up and follow instructions!”

Throughout the day, the trainees practiced on the field. Some struggled, others fared decently, but Jimmy excelled, hitting every target without fail. As he struck one, another would appear, and he quickly adjusted his aim. Beside him, a target emerged—a cutout of a student holding another hostage. Instead of firing directly at the assailant, he shot the hostage in the head. He took cover as needed when cutouts of multiple armed students appeared. Counting in his head, he recalled the time it would take for each weapon to run out of ammunition before reloading. Then, he leaped up and swiftly dispatched them all.

“Good job,” Chief McThundersnatch commended. “It seems Mr. Reese is quite skilled with firearms.”

Jimmy couldn’t pinpoint the source, but something had ignited within him, fueling his adrenaline and prowess. It reminded him of a night when he had been assigned to clean toilets at a base under attack. It had been the only time he had ever killed with a weapon, but his training had kicked in, allowing him to survive. That same primal drive now surged through him, igniting his passion for combat.

At their graduation ceremony, Jimmy stood among his fellow trainees as the school principal addressed the audience. “These individuals represent the best our school has to offer. They are our first line of defense against threats to this institution. They are the reason our children can attend school knowing they’ll be safe while receiving an education. Congratulations.”

The crowd applauded. On stage, Jimmy felt a rare sense of accomplishment, the previous weeks of anguish replaced by satisfaction.

However, that satisfaction dissipated as soon as Jimmy stepped onto campus the following day in his new role as a teacher. He had spent the last two weeks striving to become one, but now that he had achieved his goal, he felt anxious about what to expect. As he watched students mingling in the hallways, he realized that they were simply kids going about their lives. Though everything appeared ordinary, his nerves remained on edge, aware that danger could strike at any moment. Suddenly, a heavy slap on his back startled him.

“Hey!” the voice said.

Victor turned to see a man, dressed in a suit next to him. 

“Hi.”

The man stuck his hand out.

“Names Denis Wilding. I teach Math. You must be part of the new recruits.”

“That’s correct,” Jimmy stated, shaking Denis’ hand. 

“Well, welcome to the school. You’ll like it here, just as long as you pay attention for danger, everything will be fine,” Denis stated as he kept his eyes on the kids they passed up. “At any moment anything could pop off. Do not trust these kids. They seem nice, but deep down they want to kill you.”

“Are you serious?” Jimmy asked.

“Of course, they’re crazy.”

They came across, a student smoking weed by the locker. Denis took out his gun and aimed it at the kid’s head.

“Put that joint away!” Denis ordered.

The kid dropped it, and stepped on it in fright as he kept his hands up. 

“Now get your ass to the office, and tell them what you’ve done. When I go up there, and if I find out you didn’t go, you’re going to taste lead!”

The kid hurried away as a bunch of students watched, then went back to walking. 

“Like I told you, these kids are crazy,” Denis laughed.

“Yeah,” Jimmy stated hesitantly.

As they walked a fat teacher with a bald spot and beer gut bumped into Jimmy hardly. 

“Watch it, asshole!” the teacher scorned.

“What’s his problem?” Jimmy asked.

“Never mind him. That’s Mr. Collins. His wife cheated on him with one of his students,” Denis explained. “Oh well, I’ll see you later.

They parted ways. In the classroom, Jimmy faced down the eyes of the kids looking at him. All teenagers, soon to be adults with their blank faces as if they weren’t’ impressed by him. It kind of made him nervous causing him to swallow, he hadn’t been put on the spot like this in a while, but he had to try his best. 

After roll call, he began teaching, and surprisingly the kids were engaged, asking questions, sharing their thoughts and opinions. They were building an actual relationship, and this continued in the other classes as things were looking so great. What could possibly go wrong, Jimmy thought as he was walking in the hallways eating his sandwich on his lunch break. 

Just at that moment, he heard a gunshot go off, causing him to spill his sandwich on his shirt. The gunshots were followed by screams near him. He moved quickly up against the locker room, as more shots and screams came out. They looked like they were coming from the classroom up ahead. It was time. 

He took out his gun, and slowly walked against the wall towards the room while motioning onlookers to go back to class and move out the way. As he got closer to the classroom, the door the door to the other one opened, causing him to aim his gun at it. He was relieved when he saw it was Denis who had his gun out, but he had a smile on his face, one that showed he was planning something sinister.

“Just follow me, new guy, I’ll take charge,” Denis insisted.

Jimmy followed him up to the open classroom door. 

“No please,” they heard a crying voice call out, one belonging to a young person. 

A gun shot came out again. 

“Shit,” Jimmy whispered to himself.

“You ready for this?” Denis asked, turning to him.

Jimmy nodded, knowing damn well it wasn’t true. They suddenly jumped into the classroom with their guns out. 

“Freeze!” they yell.

Jimmy was surprised when he saw Mr. Collins standing over a student’s dead body with a gun in his hand pointed at the head of the hostage student in front of him. 

“Mr. Collins,” Jimmy gasped. 

“He should have never fucked my wife!” Mr. Collins screamed.

There was strained in his eyes as his faced sweated heavily. Jimmy looked around and saw more bodies, turning the place into a bloodbath as other students hid under their desk. 

“This is fucking exciting!” Denis exclaimed talking a look at all the bodies. 

“Look, just put the gun down, okay. We can get this solved,” Jimmy told remember back to the multiple choice questions. 

“Put your fucking gun down!” Mr. Collins ordered.

Jimmy thought about it for a moment. 

“We can-,” Jimmy began.

He was interrupted as Denis fired his gun causing jimmy to be startled and back up. He had taen his eyes off of the Mr. Collins due to jumping back, a poor mature mistake. When he turned his attention back, he saw Mr. Collins lying in blood next to the student he had taken hostage. She had a bullet in her head.

“Fuck, you killed her?” Jimmy cried.

“Shit, didn’t you know? C was the right answer,” Denis laughed.  “I’m going to get a medal for this! Alright kids, class is dismiss, you can thank me later.” 

Jimmy just stood there froze with his eyes glued to the dead bodies, as the sounds of Denis’ laughter became drown out. 

 In the auditorium, Jimmy sat with teachers and parents as the principal was on stage talking at the podium.

“With last week’s shooting by a teacher, it has changed our ideas on protection, which is why we are implanting a new kind of gun.”

The light was shined onto the stand right next to the principal where a regular pistil was at. He grabbed it, and put it in the hands of the dummy right next to him.

“It’s one thing to arm citizens or teachers to prevent shootings, but now we’re taking it to the next step, by arming guns with guns to stop shootings!” 

The crowd cheered. 

“Watch what happens when the trigger of this gun is pulled.”

The crash dummy had the gun pointed at the principal. He pulled the trigger, and instead of it firing at him, the barrel opened up, sticking another barrel back at the dummy and fired, blowing its stuff tissue out of its head. The crowd clapped again.

“This will be given to all teachers here, so we can prevent these kinds of tragedies from happening.”

Throughout all the clapping, Jimmy just stood up looking confused.

“If all our guns are having that, then how are we going to get a shot off when we need to protect ourselves?” Jimmy asked Denis.

“You’re thinking too hard, just go along with it,” Denis stated, clapping. 

As Jimmy thought class, gun shots occurred, causing everyone to be alarmed. Shit, not again, he thought. 

“Everyone wait here, and lock the door,” Jimmy told as he took out his gun.

When he ran to where he heard the gunshots come from he saw a line of teachers with their guns out near the exit of the hallway. Denis was part of the group. 

“What’s going on?” Jimmy asked.

The shooter’s in there. When they get out, we’re lighting their ass up,” Denis replied. 

“He’s coming!” another one yelled.

They heard footsteps coming, finally a boy with an ak-47 came out. 

“Die fucker!” the teacher’s yelled.

Suddenly Jimmy had a realization.

“Wait!” Jimmy called out.

It was too late, the teachers fired, and all of them had their brains blown out by the double barrel that came from their own guns. Jimmy eyes popped open at the bodies lying in front of him. Laughter came from the armed boy. 

“What a bunch of fucking idiots,” the boy laughed.

Jimmy took his gun out, causing the boy to laugh harder.

“Oh what, you’re going to shoot me too? Try it, and you’ll end up like them.”

“Wrong,” Jimmy stated.

Jimmy shot the boy in the head, and he dropped. He remembered he never exchanged his gun for the new one. Honestly it was the most fucking stupid idea he had ever heard, and was surprised that anyone would go with it. Then again, he wasn’t. 

Out of the office, came the principal running. 

“Oh my god, Jimmy, you’re a fucking hero!” the principal enthused. “You’re getting a medal.”

“You know what?” Jimmy stated. He pistol whipped the principal, sending him to the ground unconscious. “Fuck your medal!”

Jimmy threw the gun on the ground, and strutted away. 

“It says here you were a teacher,” the interviewer stated.

“Yeah, but just for a short time. I had to get out of it,” Jimmy replied.

“Well, I would like to say thank you for your service, I can only imagine how tough it is dealing with all that danger, but believe me when I say here at Shrine Gym, it’s very safe especially as a trainer.”

“That’s good to hear,” Jimmy declared, please. “All I want-.”

He stopped, and titled his head to behind the interviewer where he saw a woman in gym shorts moaning and getting fucked while a camera man recoded. Meanwhile people were working out like nothing. 

“Are they filming porn?” Jimmy asked.

“Oh yeah, we rent this place out to porn studios. Have to make money anyhow,” the interview told laughing. “You’re hired.”

Jimmy instantly took his attention off the sex scene and back on the interviewer.

“Oh my god, thank you!” Jimmy told, shaking the interviewer’s hand. 

“Just one, question, how good are you with a gun?”

Jimmy’s face fell flat. 

“Are you serious?” Jimmy asked. 

“Yeah.”

Jimmy thought, and he let out a sigh, then held a huge grin.

“I’m John Wick with the tool!” 

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