You Call That Fun?

“You wanna do something fun?” 

“Yeah, I’m bored, what have you got in mind?”

The boy’s school was about to break up for the long annual holidays. 

“You two at the back, stop talking. If you’ve finished your exam, sit quietly until time is up.” Mr Jacobs said. Further disturbing the unfinished papers.

“Wanker,” mouthed Geoff.

His best friend, Mart, snorted. The snort shifted to full laughter as Geoff was pulled out of the exam room by his ear.

A bell sounded, pens were retired, except for one girl’s that kept scratching until grabbed by Mr Jacobs. 

“Time’s up. Please pass your papers forward. I will collect Geoff’s although I don’t expect there is much to see.”

The grinning students filed out, sweating or punching the air, depending on their expected mark.

Mart slapped his friend’s shoulder as he joined him outside the headteacher’s office.

“Bastard, I hate him and the rest of them. They think they are clever. Just because they have a well-paid job in a fancy school.” Geoff was fuming, his dad would not be happy.

“Cheer up mate, holiday next week.”

“Those that can, do. Those that can’t, teach,” Geoff smiled. 

A glass window slid back. “You can go in now.”

“Good luck with your dad. I’ll see you later,” Mart said as he turned, leaving his friend to his fate.

“Hi, dad, me again.”

“Don’t dad me in this office. Here you call me sir. Especially if you have been sent again. What is it this time?”

“Mr Jacobs thought I said something to offend him. He misheard.”

“What about the exam?”

“I didn’t complete it, I was sitting outside,” Geoff said with a smirk.

“What am I going to do with you? You don’t know how lucky you are to attend a school like this.”

“What’s lucky about it. I miss my mates in England.”

The dressing down ended with Geoff having to run around the school grounds, filling a bin with every piece of litter seen or imagined. The older boys laughed as they threw sweet wrappers behind him.

An hour later, he returned to the head teacher’s accommodation, dripping sweat and tired.

“Could have been worse?” Mart said, sitting on the school statue outside.

“That is it. It is time for revenge. Are you with me?”

“What are you planning?”

“Not sure yet, but it starts with Jacobs! Tomorrow I’ll tell you the scheme.”

Geoff spent the night sleepless thinking and planning.

“Don’t shave this morning,” said Geoff.

“You’re ringing early. And, as you well know I don’t need to shave every day. Anyway, why?”

“We will need to look older than we are.”

“Sounds like fun. What are we doing?” Mart was itching to know.

“See you at school. Don’t forget, last day, we finish early. Have clothes to change into. Smart casual, not shorts.”

The final day passed without incident. Mart badgered his friend for details hourly.

“Wait ’til we get to mine. Have you got any money with you?”

The bell rang, all students rushed for the gates, except Geoff and Mart. They strolled across the sports field to Geoff’s room.

“Come with me,” said Geoff as they dropped their bags.

Geoff’s dad had meetings and hand shaking to occupy him in the staff room.

The boys entered the head’s office.

“Should we be here?”

“Of course not no, but all the staff are at the farewell party.” Geoff tapped at the desktop computer. “I’m guessing my dad uses the same password for everything.”

Private details of all staff were displayed. 

“Here we are, Mr Jacobs, what does it say about you, and where do you live?”

Newer members of staff were gifted rooms on site, they soon found their own accommodation away from school. Mr Jacobs lived nearer the city centre. Geoff jotted down information. He was surprised to see some teachers even listed their social sites.

The boys started back to Geoff’s. 

“Nip to the girl’s changing room, please. Check it is not locked.”

“When are you going to tell me your plans?” asked Mart.

“The camera on your phone is better than mine, yes?”

“You know iPhones are the best.”

“This will be fun,” proudly stated Geoff. “Come on, time to hit the city.”

The taxi dropped them in Silom Road after twenty minutes slog across Bangkok’s congestion. It was 5pm. Not dark yet. While most office workers were thinking about braving the traffic. Other working girls were arriving at their clubs and bars.

“Sit here, fancy a coffee?” asked Geoff.

“I’d rather have a Coke.”

“We are supposed to be wealthy business owners, not children. Two coffees please,” he signalled the serving girl.

His eyes studied the people walking past their kerbside table.

“Who are you waiting for?” asked Mart.

“We are looking for a pretty young lass, who needs to earn a few thousand Baht. Eyes open.”

“How about her?”

“Too old.”

“That one?”

“Too ugly.”

“This one?”

“That’s my girl. Talk to her in Thai, yours is better than mine. Offer her three thousand, to pose for pictures. Only photos, nothing more.”

The girl snorted and walked past. Eventually, a girl agreed, but only if her friend came too.

“Wow, we are going to school,” grinned the pretty mini-skirt.

“Yes, now duck down, don’t let security see you.”

The taxi drove to the sports field. The four passengers giggled as they entered the girls changing rooms.

Inside the girls changing area was a lost and found office. Geoff, rooted around until he found school blouses, ties and short uniform skirts. The boys were embarrassed as the girls happily changed in front.

“Get your camera ready,” ordered Geoff, as he covered part of each girl’s face with other bits of clothing, masking their eyes.

“Now, tell them to act like pupils from this school, shy, but flirty, you know what I mean.”

The camera flashed, the girls were worth Oscars. They were instructed to mouth sentences. They pocketed three-thousand Baht each, plus five-hundred tip and the fare home.

Geoff and Mart rushed to Geoff’s room.

“Hi, dad,” he called, waving as he passed him.

“Link up your phone to my lap top, while I show you a new app.”

They were ready for action.

“This app is brilliant, watch this. You type in words or sentences, then add the accent you need, male or female. We need a high-class London girl. Then just listen,” Geoff beamed at his mate as the app said. “Come on, darling Mr Jacobs.”

“Do it again, Mr Jacobs.”

“Now I know. It’s not true you just like boys!”

Mart stunned, and open-mouthed in awe as he linked the voices to the video he took.

“Now, Mr Film Director, we upload to dear Mr Jacobs social media sites. FaceBook may not be shocked, but LinkedIn will be.” He laughed until coughing stopped him.

“Er, I’m not sure we should go that far,” mumbled Mart.

“If you don’t like it, go. I’ll do it. Oh, but, don’t forget whose phone it is on!”

Mart grabbed his iPhone and stormed out.

Geoff concentrated on his task. Then, sitting back, congratulating himself, he beamed.

Within days, pupils, staff and parents were trying to put names to the well-spoken girls featured.

The head’s phone constantly rang with school fee cancellations. The governors wanted answers. A meeting was arranged. Mr Jacobs expected to answer questions.

Mr Jacobs did not show, he had been murdered by a jealous boyfriend.

The END