It was a pleasant and nondescript afternoon when a man stopped to admire the roses being peddled on the sidewalk. In this unexpected moment of tranquility, he lifted one to his nose and inhaled. Simultaneously, and much unbeknownst to the gentleman, a particularly small and industrious bug made the journey from the smooth outer rim of the flower into the uncharted caverns of the man's left nostril.
After continuing along the dark and damp path to its logical conclusion, the bug found himself in the central point of the man's brain. All of the secrets of this glorious gelatinous lump were revealed to the little bug. The bug was greatly taken aback by the knowledge he was now privy to. The bug knew that the man had stopped at the cart not in the interest of botany, but in order to more closely study the subtle curves of the lady peddler. The bug knew that the socks the man was wearing had been the socks the man was wearing for three days now. He knew that the man didn't call his mother often enough, that he had very little luck with women (not for any lack of effort), and that he had a particular distaste for small dogs.
Having learned enough, the bug decided that humans were a particularly vile breed and gradually began his descent, hoping for sweeter and smoother pastures.

By the time Mrs. Phillips had changed into her modest one-piece, a ring of children had formed around the pool. Not a single one was in the water.
"My dear students, may I ask why not a one of you has gotten into that pool?"
"Sam saw an alligator under one of the floaties!" lisped little Elizabeth.
"I see. Sam, could I have a word?" she beckoned with a stern finger. "It isn't nice to play tricks. Now look, you've gotten everyone into a frenzy over nothing. This isn't to happen again, do we understand one another?"
Sam stared at his bare feet, chastened.
"Now, I'm going to show you all there is absolutely no alligator in this pool."
Mrs. Phillips strode purposefully to the side of the pool and dived in in a graceful arc.

The next week, Mrs. Phillips' replacement began teaching classes.

The wallpaper curled back in the corner where the door met the wall, and you could still see the faded pencil marks where someone had scrawled their initials. It was kind of nice, thinking that someone had been in that same spot however many years ago. I wish I knew where they were now, and if they were happy, or if they were still hiding their initials in new places waiting to be discovered.

Nobody noticed, at first, when the man ambled his way over and began to casually dig his fingers into the birthday girl’s cake. Only after the piñata had been broken and the subsequent frenzy died down, each child having shoved as many tootsie rolls into their pockets and mouths as possible, did the first parent notice the man--face fairly covered in buttercream frosting, scooping the last decorative flower off of the maimed cake.
As discreetly as possible, he leaned to the girl’s father and whispered, “Hey Jean, uh… I think you need to look over there.”