The superintendent burst through the front doors of the elementary school, which was the only way he knew how to use doors. He was feeling the pleasant adrenaline rush that always accompanied giving a good chewing out, which he planned to do whether or not it was deserved, because honestly, it must be deserved for something or other. If the rumors had reached all the way to the superintendent's office, he reasoned, something must be up.
He prowled the hallways, realizing it had been a while since he visited this particular school and not quite able to find the main office. He should have the whole place torn down and build a more straightforward building in its place. Finally he found it, though, and glared at a receptionist who didn't really look the part. Not one to mince words, he barked, "Brink."
The receptionist looked like a bank teller about to activate the silent alarm. This is because this scenario had been rehearsed at the insistence of Principal Brink and, though it did seem really legitimately crazy to the receptionist, the principal did seem to take it seriously. The desk phone connected to the office phone, rang twice, and was abruptly hung up. "He's not in right now," said the receptionist flatly.
The superintendent decided that something was fishy and went ahead past the desk and up to the door of the principal's office. He turned the handle, swung the door open and saw through the window, which was half open, as a tweed-suited figure ran across the school grounds and through the bushes.