School for Villains

"There are many things that you need to know in order to be a successful villain. Can anybody name any?"

The Professor started every year with his new class of hopefuls with a simple question and answer. As expected, no-one put their hand up. None would carelessly reveal their knowledge. It was the role of the villain not to appear too eager, to remain withdrawn until the ultimate moment came to make themselves known.

This boded well.

"No-one want to answer? Or is it that you just don't know?"

A few sardonic smirks from the wiser ones among the group, who knew that they were being goaded. The Professor scanned the room, his attention falling on one towards the back, head down, furtively scribbling.

"What about you? The Scribbler. Not to be confused, class, with The Riddler."

Sniggers.

The boy continued his scribbling.

The Professor looked at his lank, greasy hair. Was it too early to start picking them apart, to test their mettle? Making enemies of potential villains in these impressionable years was impetuous at best, life-threatening at worst.

He opted for the genteel approach. As he walked towards the boy, he continued to share his message:

"Many believe they know the secret formula, the combination of characteristics which will make them the most refined, the most vicious, the most successful villain, but what are these esteemed qualities?"

The Professor had arrived next to the boy.

Still the boy scribbled.

He placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. The scribbling stopped.

Slowly, the greasy head turned his way.

On seeing the boy's face, the Professor quickly withdrew his hand. Just a boy and yet, something peculiar was there in the set of his eyes and the slight pointiness of his teeth. The Professor felt revulsion and excitement in equal parts.

"Well? Can you name any?"

The boy held the Professor's gaze and said clearly:

"Fear".

The Professor was able now to see what the boy had been so keenly working on. A comic strip, depicting stage by stage this very lesson, concluding with the Professor's cartoon likeness being stabbed repeatedly in the last box by a boy with lank, greasy hair and slightly pointed teeth.

***

366 words

Not a school I would like to attend nor teach at!

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