School

From Worldatplay

[edit] A day in the life of an average Roach-Busterian kindergartener

24 hours a day, 365 days a year, RB City was bustling with activity. Cars drove at a modest, orderly pace, neither too fast nor too slow, in perfect formations, in two neat, straight, orderly lines moving in opposite directions. The streets and sidewalks were scrupulously clean, without even a single scrap of litter. Since most people did not enjoy being beaten unconscious with leather whips, there was no incentive to litter. RB City was one of the few places left in the world where perfect strangers greeted each other with a slight bow, a tip of the hat, or an amiable "Hello." Everyone was clean, well composed. Scruffiness, too, was a crime. The air was clear, free of pollution. All-pervasive police, MPs, police informers, security cameras, etc. ensured that public order was maintained at all times.

Every five minutes, loudspeakers would blare one of the following three messages at random: "Papa J.L. loves his children very, very much"; "Generalissimo J.L. I is your friend"; or "Smile! The Generalissimo is watching."

Each store window prominently displayed a portrait of the Generalissimo, garbed in his trademark military attire, with a smile that reflected his warm, kindly, fatherly demeanor. Children would gaze at the ortraits, entranced, and say, in a soft, awestruck voice, "Papa!"

Every place, public or private- homes, fire stations, police stations, hospitals, libraries, restaurants, brothels, bars, casinoes, museums, etc.- proudly hung an enormous portrait of the Generalissimo. Each adult lovingly rendered a sharp salute each time they passed a portrait.

8 out of 10 children, and nearly all adults, wore exact duplicates of the Generalissimo's trademark uniform, not because the law compelled them to, but because they loved him so much. Everyone was, however, required to wear a lapel with his portrait, and everyone did.

Citizens were all smiles, as they joyfully went about their peaceful, unassuming, modest lives. Most conversations focused on the man they fondly referred to as "Papa." Tourists found it baffling.

Life in Roach-Busters was happy. While none would deny that J.L. ruled with an iron fist, none would deny that he also ruled with a heart of gold.

A young boy named Robbie Smith, aged six, was starting his first day of kindergarten today. The school bus he was riding in had the Generalissimo's face painted on both sides, with the message: PAPA J.L. LOVES HIS CHILDREN VERY, VERY MUCH underneath. Like all children, his school uniform looked just like what 'Papa' wore. The bus driver wore the same thing, and as he picked up the innocent little children to bring them to school, he could be heard humming the RB national anthem.

At school, the first thing the students did was line up in perfect formation, salute the giant portrait of the Imperator on the wall, and chant: "We are Papa J.L.'s children! Papa loves us very, very much! He is our father, our leader, our friend. Papa knows what is best for us! We will make the world a better place, for Papa!"

The students then took their seats at their desks, while the teacher went over their math lessons (each textbook, no matter what the grade or subject, whether kindergarten or college, public school or private, had the Generalissimo on the front, with the words PAPA J.L. LOVES HIS CHILDREN VERY, VERY MUCH). Most of the math questions were of a political nature.

"If Papa J.L. meets ten communists, and he kills eight, how many are left?" the teacher, Mrs. Higginson, asked.

Robbie raised his hand.

She nodded. "Yes, Robbie?"

"Two," he said.

She beamed. "Very good, sweetie, very good!" Wiping tears, she said, "Papa would be so proud!"

Robbie, too, began to weep tears of joy. "Really?"

"Yes, sweetie," she said, hugging him. "Because Papa J.L. loves you so, so much!"

An hour later, it was time for science. The teacher showed them a communist skull (it was actually a chimpanzee skull, but they were too young to tell). "This is the skull of a communist, children. Now, what are communists?"

"Dirty, rotten, malevolent bastards that want to hurt Papa," the children said, in sing-song formation.

"Yes, children. And who will save us from the communists?"

All the chubby-cheeked little children wore huge, toothy smiles, their eyes alight with joy, as they said: "Papa!"

"Yes, you're right. Papa." Donning plastic gloves, she reached into the skull, and took out the brain (actually, a chunk of donkey feces). "Do you know what this is?"

"Eew, a commie's brain!" a little girl said.

"Yes. Now, Tyler, tell us about communists' brains."

A young, bespectacled, freckle-faced carrot-top named Tyler stood and said in a high, nasal voice, "Communists' brains don't work. Their brains are broken and can't be fixed."

He sat down, after being lightly applauded.

"Now, if you see a communist, what should you do?" Mrs. Higginson asked.

"Call the police!"

"Yes, very good. Because the police are your friends, right children? They love Papa, just like you."

For half an hour, the children were taught 'science.' They were taught that communists were closely related to cockroaches, were coprophagous, disease-ridden, dangerous animals, etc. They also learned a thing or two about earthworms, rainbows, the weather, and volcanoes.

After milk and cookies time, the teacher read them a picture book about the Generalissimo, on one of his usual communist-hunting excursions.

The children excitedly exchanged whispers: "Wow, Papa's so cool!"

"He sure is brave, fighting those mean and nasty poopoo-head commies all by himself!"

"I love Papa!"

Then, it was recess. Students were given guns (they had been taught gun safety at home, which was required by law), and hunted Shoobans and Turtas for half an hour. When they were done, they went back inside, pledged allegiance to the Generalissimo again, and then it was 'coloring time.' Nearly everyone drew a picture of the Generalissimo, often with the words "I love Papa" written underneath.

Then, it was time for history, where they were told laudatory stories of the heroic deeds of the likes of Emperor Antonius, Emperor Helldawg, Shah Khosru III, and all of RB's other noble allies.

After spelling and grammar lessons, it was time to go home. Children eagerly climbed into the school buses, nearly frantic with excitement, eager to return home and show their "purdy pitchers" to their parents.

Each looked forward to the next day of school.