Food Fight Finale

This is how it began…

THE DREADED INTENT

It was a lunch hour like any other at Bacon Elementary, when a chill ran up Mateo’s spine. His hair stood at attention down his bony arms. Cautiously he lifted his gaze, millimeter by millimeter. He dreaded the worst. And sure as a pop-tart is sugary, there she was, staring straight at him. Priscilla Weatherspoon – the meanest, leanest prankster this side of the Mississippi. Her eyes grew smaller as they locked onto his. Slowly, slowly but sure as a mosquito bite, she drew her chin towards her chest and that’s when Mateo saw The Intent, right there under her thick, dark caterpillar eyebrows knit between her tightly pulled braids. Those chesnut-brown peepers were. not. cute. He knew then and there. He had just become her business. It was a speck of a second, but felt like slow-motion sickness. As the sweat started to gather in his armpits, and a heat rose to his ears, he lowered his sandwich with his left hand as he went for the juice box with his right…

This is what happened next…

..hand, juice squelched right into meanie Priscilla’s sour face. SPLISH! Wiping sticky juice from her eyes, she fired back an apple and struck Mateo square on the noggin. She didn’t even need to aim! KATHUNK! It bounced off Mateo’s head, and hit Jamie Frank in the back, and rolled to the feet of the lunch lady! Jamie, picking up today’s special (meatball sandwich)… SPLIT, SPLOT, SPLAT meatballs fell from the soggy sandwich as Jamie catapulted the wet mess toward… Emily Krump PLOP the soggy sandwich landed across her forehead. Taking her pudding cup firmly in her hand she… launched the SQUISHY, QUIVERING treat across the table into Mateo’s no longer SQUEAKY lunch box. Mateo responded quickly by… slammed it down as hard as she could. SHKLAP chocolate rain came down on all the near by tables. Jamie slipped on the droplets sending… . . . placed the small spoon into the cup, tasted a bit of the chocolate glop and thinking, “Mm, this is good. Such a shame to waste it,” Emily picked up Andy’s applesauce instead, dumping it on top Jamie’s head SMOOSH! it drained down his face. Red applesauce faced, Jamie … grabbed up one of the meatballs rolling across the floor and flinged it at Priscilla’s ear. DONG! it rang as Priscilla paused to reach for more ammunition. jumped on top the table, ripped the top off his Hostess cupcakes, balled them tightly and aimed at the back of Mrs. Huntley’s three foot high beehive hair do. WHING, FLING, DING!…Contact! Mrs. Huntley turned… . . . around quickly to see who was responsible for such rude behavior in the lunchroom. As she made a pirouette, to reprimand the rascle, Mrs. Huntley’s now one foot beehive hair do, adorned with sticky chocolate crumbs and sweet vanilla goo wooshed about smacking Mr. Ham, the principal . . . in the face. WHACK! Mr. Ham hit the floor, dazed and sticky. Just then, Jamie, still oozing applesauce down his chin, slid into Mr. Ham, landing with an OOF! atop the heavy-set principal. Mr. Ham rolled Jamie off of his wide belly and said, . . . nothing anyone could understand because much like a roast pig (his namesake), his face was hot-red and one of the meatballs plugged his mouth. Sounding much like the adults in “Peanuts” animation, Mr. Ham yelled, “Mwooo mwamwamwamwa mwaw mweh?!” He then bit into the meatball and chewed. “Not bad,” he said, then ate the other half. “OK, WHO’S RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS CULINARY CARNAGE?” Mateo ducked out of sight, hoping he would not be blamed. It WAS Priscilla’s fault, after all. Then he saw the juice box, meant for him explode against Mr. Ham’s chest with a loud SPLORT! All heads swiveled accusingly to face Mateo. Mateo tried to quickly duck under the table but it was too late. A laughing Mr Ham grabbed the last remaining meatball and lobbed it across the room. KERPLUNK, SLURP, it hit Mateo in the forehead and SLITHERED… to the lunchroom floor. Oh, no! Mateo was out of ammunition! Then he spied Emily’s cup of lime jello, untouched. So far. Sliding across the table, Mateo grabbed it and SPLOOK! lobbed it at …into Priscilla’s outstretched hand. She closed her fist SQUISHing the meatball. “Hey, Mr. Ham. Why don’t you pick on someone your own size,” she yelled. “Besides it was Jamie Frank who started the whole thing.” Mateo’s mouth fell open… and so did Jamie’s. He remembered being hit by Priscilla’s apple. “NOT TRUE!” he yelled, as he tossed a handful of spaghetti BLORSH covering everyone between him and Priscilla. Which now included the Lunch Lady and the Custodian who were both SIZZLING mad. “Who’s going to clean up this mess?” BLURTED the Custodian as spaghetti streamed down his face.

And this is how it ended…

WWWOOIIIIEEEEEHHH! It was Mrs. Georgakis, the PE teacher, blowing on the trusty whistle hanging ’round her neck! The sudden silence was dizzying, but for the SLURPs, GOOPs and SPLATs as bits dripped down to the floor. Mrs. Georgakis stood measuring, feet apart, hands on her hips, as always. “Fourth graders to the left. Fifth graders to the right. Mr. Ellis, buckets and rags, please. We start work top to bottom,” she ordered. “Not a word.” And they didn’t dare.

Once the tables and benches, walls and floor were wiped, they marched solemnly, single file out to the playground. There were smiles of hope, because no one expected the hose-down. And. It. Was. Cold. The air was warm, but students stood like popsicles. They were meant to shake it off and dry out a bit before heading back to class, but moved like molasses straight from the fridge. Mateo felt a poke in his back. Yep. Priscilla Weatherspoon. “You may have had the first move today, but we have a whole school year ahead of us,” she muttered. He could feel her bitter breath on his neck. “Plenty of time. Plenty.”  GULP!

Thanks to all who participated: Catherine Johnson, daynesislendesign, Donna L. Sadd, Jacquesartandbooks, KidLitReviews, Lauri Meyers, Lee Braff, Louann Brown, Mary Flynn, Prairie Garden Girl, Sarah Maynard, Sue Poduska, thiskidreviewsbooks, and writersideup! Check out all the wrap ups on Marcie Colleen’s blog – HERE