Principal Rodman peeked out through the hallway at the cafeteria, now full of parents. Though such a sizable crowd meant lots of raised funds, Principal Rodman couldn't help but think about how he'd like to watch the lot of them burn.

It was such a dark thought, one he'd been having more and more frequently. His counselor told him he needed to find a new job. Maybe in a school district where the parents weren't so hard to handle, or maybe a new line of work entirely. He'd always wanted to be a writer.

Although he didn't want to interact with anyone, he forced himself to go mingle, thinking dark thoughts about the parents he hated most as he encountered them.

Finally, he allowed himself the pleasure of escaping to his office.

Strangely, his office smelled a bit like smoke.

Principal Rodman ignored this, opening his desk drawer to find his lighter. He opened the window by his desk, lit up one of the cigarettes in his pocket, and took three quick but meaningful drags before he quickly put it out by dropping it into his coffee thermos. His wife would clean it for him and chastise him for smoking in the building like she usually did, and he would ignore her, and the federal law, as he usually did.