While it is fundamentally natural and perhaps actively recommended to feel perturbed and discombobulated when one comes into contact with elements of the currently incomprehensible, I surprised myself by my calm and collected reaction to the discovery that Mr. Smith, our English teacher, was an alien.
I was swift to follow through, and forthwith formed a cult on the internet. I kept Mr. Smith’s identity secret, of course, but I laid out enough clues that the faithful could find their way to the saviour.
Given that I generally hold the country’s defence system in low regard, I was surprised when the unidentified doohickies department detected his presence and took Mr. Smith away. Two days later, they brought me in for my innocuous little website.
Mr. Smith and I were restrained in adjoining cells. When he noticed that somehow one of his students had been embroiled in the situation, he decided to make his escape, taking me with him. Mr. Smith proved himself a pacifist and only incapacitated two soldiers in his escape, and killed all of none. He wiped their entire system and left a warning with a smiley.
Just before he bid me farewell at the landing pad of his spaceship, I hung my head down and confessed to my involuntary revelation of his whereabouts to the military.
Perhaps because corporal punishment has been out of favour in schools for a goodly time now, Mr. Smith restricted himself to the words: “Well, that was a bit daft.”