You can't afford it

“Albert Sachs, you get your sorry ass down here at once.”

His Algebra II teacher, the Humpty Dumpty-looking Mr. Wilmerding, had finally found it. The caricature showing him tottering on the edge of a purple wall.

“I didn’t do it, Mr. Wilmerding. I promise!”

“If that’s so, who else in our Algebra II class is capable of such artwork?”

Albert looked around. Susie Smith could barely sign her name. “Perhaps Susie did it.”

Susie stuck out her tongue and narrowed her mean little eyes. “In your dreams, butthead.”

“Nice try, Master Sachs. I shall write up a note for your aunt and send you to detention for three days. And you can’t afford another one of those. Now get back to your seat at once.”

Mr. Wilmerding returned to the lesson of the day. “Class, can someone tell me the definition of a perfect square?”

He couldn’t resist it. He absolutely had to answer the question. There was no way, during the 1.5 seconds of silence that enveloped the shy room, Albert wasn’t going to answer the question. It would mean an extra week of detention. But it would be worth it.

“Mr. Wilmerding is a perfect square.”