{i miss paper letters}

Officer Lisbon stood like a fortress in front of the white-board.  All right you little punks, Listen up!  You may think this is some kind of a joke; that you already know how to drive; that you’re an excellent driver; that this is a waste of your time!  But understand one thing: You will not drive again, for years, if you fail this course, and I will be the one to decide if you have passed or not.  Is that clear?

Ashlyn turned to her best friend and smirked as a call came in on her cell-phone.  Suddenly the room filled with the cacophony of Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream”.

Whose phone is that!?  That’s it!  Everyone’s phone goes into this box, NOW!  The instructor walked up and down each aisle with an empty Entenmann’s box, which, according to the royal blue script, had once held an “Ultimate” Crumb Cake.  In no time at all he was standing beside Ashlyn.

Well, pony it up, little lady.  Begrudgingly, and not without an argument, the rhinestone encrusted hot-pink phone went into the box with all the others.  Okay, now that that’s done—he was interrupted by the sound of two separate phones ringing from the box still in his hands.  He calmly walked to the door of the classroom and dropped the box, with the still-ringing phones, onto the floor; then he slammed the door closed.

What if someone steals ‘em, asked one pimply-faced toe-head.  He did not receive an answer.

Now.  All of you are here for the same reason: you’ve all managed to crash a vehicle, and to avoid further prosecution you have been ordered by the courts to complete this Driver Re-Education program.  Now open up your workbooks to page one.  Who would like to volunteer to read what it says here?  Anyone? No? Well, ok, we’re not making a very good first impression here people.  You, in the pink sweater, Go.

He was pointing a finger roughly the thickness of a bratwurst at Ashlyn.  She let out a heavy sigh and spit her gum out the window.  He would not be dissuaded by such a childish action and stood waiting for her to begin.  The red second hand of the industrial clock ticked off one—, two—, three of the longest seconds ever.  A different, even pimplier boy accidentally scraped the leg of his chair a length of roughly three inches, producing an indescribable sound.  Ashlyn sighed heavily.

She began to read.  When a car drifts . . .