The Principal

The massive Principal wobbles in, her loud voice booming throughout the class.

"Good afternoon, Mr Macron. I need to find a student to help out since Janitor Presley was fired, and we've fallen behind on our washing duties. I need a student to help out with it."

"Of course, of course," Mr Macron says. "I'll let you choose."

The Principal's eyes scans around the room.

"An entire class of renegades and slackers, none of who could afford to miss a minute of class," she says, before her eyes rest on you. "Ah, Mr O'Leary!"

"Hello, ma'am," you say, remembering your earlier conversation with her.

"You're a good boy. Would you be willing to help me in this, or would you prefer to focus on your lessons?"