The sneeze was heard and felt around the world. A groundbreaking earthquake that caused the lights to flicker, the windows and the walls to vibrate, and the pencil box on the teacher's desk to tip over. Pens, markers, paper clips, rubber bands and erasers tumbled onto the floor.
The teacher felt the mist hit her face. Her eyes shot to the little boy across the table. He grinned happily while tracing the ABCs, unfazed by the thick strings of dark green ooze dangling out of his nostrils.
“I’ve a box of tissues over there,” said the teacher, pointing to the Kleenex box on her desk. “Go grab one.”
The boy shook his head stubbornly and replied, "I'm alright," before audibly sucking the thick, slimy green strings back into his nose.
“Are you sure?”
“Yup.”
The second sneeze was stronger and deafening. The other students ducked under the tables, while the force had thrown her off her chair. When she got up on her feet, she found the boy still diligently engrossed in his assignment, despite the green strings once again dangling from his nostrils. One of them extended over his lip, making its way down to his chin.
There was a weight that fell onto her hand. She looked down to see a glob of the green thing on her wrist. She felt herself turn green. A wave of nausea threatened to rise in her throat but she fought it down. As she reached for a tissue, her hand froze in mid-air as the glob unexpectedly expanded and morphed into a hand, gripping her wrist tightly.
She made a move for the hand sanitizer. The green hand tightened its grip, nearly cutting off circulation. She screamed and gagged. It slithered up her sleeve, creeping toward her shoulder, and pressed its index finger against her trembling lips.
Shhh.
The boy looked up with a wide grin on his elfin face, his eyes gleaming with pride. "I'm all done!" he exclaimed, triumphantly holding up the assignment, each letter perfectly traced with the pencil.
Some sneeze!