Part Ten: It's all in the head

Later, when all the staff had dispersed reluctantly to their lessons, the headmaster had his usual patrol of the main building. It was mainly to distract him from the pressure of running the whole anarchic establishment that was the school, but it also gave him a chance to hunt down any skivers. The head was not greatly keen on blood sports, but he knew a skiver when he hit one. As he trudged along, he suddenly heard a loud crash from the other end of the corridor. He broke into a jog, gradually gaining speed until it became a run. Still the crashing continued, and it was getting louder by the second. The noise appeared to be coming from the janitor’s cupboard, known to be the favourite haunt of lesson-dodging pupils. Although it was called a cupboard, it also doubled up as the janitor’s miniature home from home and was considerably roomy. Coming to a halt outside the door, the headmaster rolled up his sleeve and prepared to enter. “Right then!” he bellowed as he strode through the door. “Who is responsible for…?” Suddenly the room seemed to sway around him. Colours swirled and faded, and there was a general feeling of warmth and fuzziness in the vicinity. Small fish flitted among huge purple trees on gossamer wings; two-tonne ducks dabbled upside down in a floating orange lake and with a sigh the head passed out on a bed of soft black mushrooms. Well, at least he wouldn’t have to go to the school council meeting.