The class was stunned as they watched the teacher stumble. Even the white-board marker seemed against him. After an awkward battle he threw it against the wall. His words forced,
“Ok class, you know this. How much is sixty minus twenty?”
He was right, but they dared not speak. Sweat plowed down his forehead.
Pintu in the back of the class pondered the situation. He knew this was not good.
Slipping out silently , he heard a cacophony of bangs and splats, and then a large and sudden boom. Then quiet. Pintu strolling away, thought to himself,
“I’m kinda thirsty”.
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