‘Twas a gloomy, gloomy day indeed, for this was the day that millions, hundreds of millions
of young children dreaded... Back to school! *scary music plays* Sigh. That just doesn’t have the
same effect as hearing it, does it? Oh... Wait, where were we? Ah, yes... The children were not in
their most spectacular mood ever, no. But some kids had more in for them than they expected...
“Welcome, class!” said a nondescript man in the front. As if there was any doubt, he continued,
“I am your teacher for this year of Advanced National History! You have tested high enough, it
appears to have been let into this class. Regardless of that, you must show me that you are
reasonably intelligent to get a passing grade.”
The class was silent, but one smallish and arrogant looking kid stuck up his hand. “Yes, Gregory
McSeely?”
“Greg, sir. Sir, what I fail to see is why you insist upon insulting us at every turn.”
“Well, Greg, have you shown me that you have any above the IQ to walk and talk? No. So, I
cannot assume.”
“My IQ,” he said in a snobbish, offensive, whiney voice, “is 196, for your information.”
“Really?” the teacher said. “In that case, this should be no trouble for you... Recite pi to the 25th
decimal place.”
“Uh,” Greg said, wavering a bit, “Something like... 3.14159265358978-?”
“Wrong,” said teacher, cutting him off. “It is,” he said, reciting from memory,
“3.141592653589793238462643383279502884197169... you get the point.”
“That wasn’t to the 25th, though.”
“No. It was past the 45th.”
The class snickered. “Ah, listen here. The fart coming out of this poor child’s mouth has caused
other farts to be drawn out. Listen, Greg. I doubt many of them could do any better, yet as you are
corrected, they see this as an advancement in the ladder of achievement, despite that they did not
prove anything of their intellect besides the abilty to find their way to class and snicker.”
The snickers stopped instantly. Greg, however, was still undeterred, despite recent events.
“But sir,” he said in that voice of his which no one could not grind their teeth at, “This isn’t
math.”
“You are right,” said Teacher, “but are you adept at Creek history as well?”
“Creek?”
“Yes, Creek. It’s the reason you are here, right? Like, say, do you happen to know when the
legendary prophet Bright Path appeared?”
“I’ll point out that is mythology, not history, but nevertheless, it is 1419.”
“You are correct, but it is certainly history. You do remember his prophecy right?”
“Of course. I had to memorize it in Creek Studies last year. The white men, like me, shall
come from across the sea. Their great craft will give birth to small, carrying white, white men.
They shall be enclosed in shells of silver, their sticks shall kill you from afar. They shall end the
Creek nation, in 396 cycles of the seasons, unless you act. Act! To save yourselves! Expand!
Build an empire to stand the test of the white men, and you shall succeed... ”
“Very good, my young fellow! And indeed, what happened right after this? The Creeks became
committed to expansion, and became a colonial power among natives! Coincidence? Why don’t
we ask some other’s opinions, like you, yes, you there in the back! Zachary Taylor!”
“Huh?” answered the said person, the said person being awakened.
“I asked, what is you opinion on the matter?”
“Um,” Zach said, thinking quickly, “The primary source is right... Always trust the primary
source.”
“Really, Zachary? Your comment would be more useful if there actually was a primary source.”
“Oh,” said Zach, beginning to blush.
The bell rang. “Dismissed, class!” called teacher. “Don’t be hasty to change you schedules! The
class just gets more and more fun!”
Nation: Creek
Version: latest beta
Style: Unholy classroom*
*If you absolutely must see your name in print, just say so, and I can include you as a student.
of young children dreaded... Back to school! *scary music plays* Sigh. That just doesn’t have the
same effect as hearing it, does it? Oh... Wait, where were we? Ah, yes... The children were not in
their most spectacular mood ever, no. But some kids had more in for them than they expected...
“Welcome, class!” said a nondescript man in the front. As if there was any doubt, he continued,
“I am your teacher for this year of Advanced National History! You have tested high enough, it
appears to have been let into this class. Regardless of that, you must show me that you are
reasonably intelligent to get a passing grade.”
The class was silent, but one smallish and arrogant looking kid stuck up his hand. “Yes, Gregory
McSeely?”
“Greg, sir. Sir, what I fail to see is why you insist upon insulting us at every turn.”
“Well, Greg, have you shown me that you have any above the IQ to walk and talk? No. So, I
cannot assume.”
“My IQ,” he said in a snobbish, offensive, whiney voice, “is 196, for your information.”
“Really?” the teacher said. “In that case, this should be no trouble for you... Recite pi to the 25th
decimal place.”
“Uh,” Greg said, wavering a bit, “Something like... 3.14159265358978-?”
“Wrong,” said teacher, cutting him off. “It is,” he said, reciting from memory,
“3.141592653589793238462643383279502884197169... you get the point.”
“That wasn’t to the 25th, though.”
“No. It was past the 45th.”
The class snickered. “Ah, listen here. The fart coming out of this poor child’s mouth has caused
other farts to be drawn out. Listen, Greg. I doubt many of them could do any better, yet as you are
corrected, they see this as an advancement in the ladder of achievement, despite that they did not
prove anything of their intellect besides the abilty to find their way to class and snicker.”
The snickers stopped instantly. Greg, however, was still undeterred, despite recent events.
“But sir,” he said in that voice of his which no one could not grind their teeth at, “This isn’t
math.”
“You are right,” said Teacher, “but are you adept at Creek history as well?”
“Creek?”
“Yes, Creek. It’s the reason you are here, right? Like, say, do you happen to know when the
legendary prophet Bright Path appeared?”
“I’ll point out that is mythology, not history, but nevertheless, it is 1419.”
“You are correct, but it is certainly history. You do remember his prophecy right?”
“Of course. I had to memorize it in Creek Studies last year. The white men, like me, shall
come from across the sea. Their great craft will give birth to small, carrying white, white men.
They shall be enclosed in shells of silver, their sticks shall kill you from afar. They shall end the
Creek nation, in 396 cycles of the seasons, unless you act. Act! To save yourselves! Expand!
Build an empire to stand the test of the white men, and you shall succeed... ”
“Very good, my young fellow! And indeed, what happened right after this? The Creeks became
committed to expansion, and became a colonial power among natives! Coincidence? Why don’t
we ask some other’s opinions, like you, yes, you there in the back! Zachary Taylor!”
“Huh?” answered the said person, the said person being awakened.
“I asked, what is you opinion on the matter?”
“Um,” Zach said, thinking quickly, “The primary source is right... Always trust the primary
source.”
“Really, Zachary? Your comment would be more useful if there actually was a primary source.”
“Oh,” said Zach, beginning to blush.
The bell rang. “Dismissed, class!” called teacher. “Don’t be hasty to change you schedules! The
class just gets more and more fun!”
Nation: Creek
Version: latest beta
Style: Unholy classroom*
*If you absolutely must see your name in print, just say so, and I can include you as a student.
