While we were all in class,
a horrible smell wafted up
from the C-hall stairs closest to
the art room.
At first, we shrugged it off—
just some pottery burning
in the kiln.
The more we breathed the smell,
the more we realized that it was
not a burning smell.
“Some asshole probably set off
a stink bomb,” muttered a girl.
“It happened last year.”
An announcement came
over the loudspeakers
telling us to evacuate from the building.
Evacuation? No class? Excellent.
In that moment, nobody cared
if our school was filled with poison gas
Evacuation! No class!