The Disciplinarian

"Good morning, ladies and gentleman."

"Good morning, Mr. Disciplinarian!"

"Ooh, but you're a lively bunch this morning. Though, I'm sad to say, as I look out over this sea of anxious faces, I don't see that new fella Mr. Johnson."

"I'm afraid you knuckled his iPhone fingers pretty good yesterday, sir," said Miss Pettigrew. "I saw him this morning at the dispensary demanding stronger pain medication. But he left with the usual dosage of 'Suck it up, Johnson!' from the dispensary nurse, and a packet of aspirin."

"I can't blame him really," said the Disciplinarian. "I was a little over-stimulated during our talk on how important it was to stay focused on the task at hand, instead of drifting into a fog of uncertainty, when who do I spy at the back of the class gazing down at his lap, with his right hand missing from its proper place on top of the desk? Our dear new friend Mr. Johnson! Now what do you suppose I was to suspect? All I needed to see was that silly smirk of his to know he was smart-phoning under our very noses!”

Maxwell Johnson had been sent to Millard Cracker's School of Smart Phone Discipline for guidance. The sender, let's call him Mr. C, is the founder of an Internet writing site called Alphabet Stew. Mr. Johnson was a contributing writer to the site who had been asked to join them as a contributing editor. His tasks were simple: read and respond to stories submitted to the site. 'Be courteous and helpful,' he was told. 'Work at your own leisure.'

At first Maxwell jumped into his new duties like a rookie fireman at his first fire. He wanted to be everywhere at once. And soon he was putting out fires and rescuing cats from trees with wild abandon. Then a few months flew by and it was Father's Day. Upon opening his Father's Day gift Maxwell exclaimed, "A smart-phone? But I was quite happy with my pay-as-you-go flip phone. You really shouldn't have."  Though, on the other hand, thought Mr. Johnson, this could help immensely with my duties at Alphabet Stew. I can read and respond wherever and whenever I wanted! I can double, no, triple my work load! Ain't technology grand! A gift from the angels!

Maxwell took his smart-phone everywhere; in the car, on the train, and on his daily walks in the park. Then, one day, as he sat on a park bench laughing uproariously at a story on Alphabet Stew and writing the comment, ‘Fabulous and funny story. I laughed so hard it hurt! Ouch!’ his finger slipped and sent him soaring into unfamiliar territory in cyber space. 'Ooh, kittens!" said Maxwell. "I like kittens!' 

Yes, you guessed it, Maxwell thus began straying from his duties at Alphabet Stew and started flirting with a site called Kitty-Land Fun. Soon he was clapping with delight at the amusing antics of the feline population. 'Boy! I didn't even know a cat could play the piano!’ and, ‘Oh, man! Don’t that beat all! Kittens in clown costumes! How funny is that!’

Before long, Maxwell was hopelessly addicted to all things cute and furry. Cat paraphernalia began to overwhelm his desk and his happy home.

“You put up another cat poster on these walls,” said his wife, “and I’m leaving!”
Then Mr. C, the Alphabet Stew founder, stepped into the picture with an offer of help for our hapless hero.

‘Many of our staff have had to put themselves in the hands of the Disciplinarian at Millard Cracker's School of Smart-Phone Discipline,’ his email read. ‘A certain Miss S from city of N comes to mind. She was a vegetarian, but began to develop an unnatural fascination with all things meat after stumbling onto a site called The Butcher Boy’s Meaty Delights. She was at once appalled and mesmerized at the array of delicacies this butcher had to offer, but as soon as I put her in the hands of the Disciplinarian, she was soon thinking nothing but Alphabet Stew and carrots!”

***
When Maxwell returned to class the following day, he was greeted by the torturous golden ruler of the Disciplinarian.

“Ouch! Fuck! That didn’t tickle, you moron!" said Maxwell. "Stop it, I say! Stop rapping my knuckles!”

“You, me, and my golden ruler are going to become fast friends,” said the Disciplinarian. “Whether you like it or not!"

"Meow."

"What was that?" said the Disciplinarian.

As he spoke, a Calico kitten popped its head out from Maxwell's canvas book bag.
"What's that?" 

"It's a present."

"You dare try to bribe the Disciplinarian!"

"Yes."

"Hmm. What's its name?"

“It’s a she. I’ve named her Salvadora. Spanish for savior. For that is what she is to me.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” said Maxwell. “You see, last night, as I lay across the railroad tracks dwelling on how I lost my soul to technology, I was distracted by a mew in my ear. Then came the purring and the soft caress of a tender paw upon my beleaguered hand. I tell you, Disciplinarian, at that moment I wept like I have never wept before. My soul, having been pushed to the gutter by my endless need to feed it on a diet of Kitty-Land Fun videos, returned to me once again. I can now gaze upon my fellow creatures without shame, and an outrageous phone bill. On this I give my word. And a kitten.”

The Disciplinarian didn’t buy a word of it, but was always happy to be rid of the weepy ones. They made his skin itch. 

“Fine," said the Disciplinarian. “Now you can go back to editing, and, heaven help us all, writing one of your insipid detective stories! Raven Manger, indeed! What sort of name is that for a detective? Sounds like an idiotic forest ranger!"

Maxwell Johnson then headed home and hoped the bus had a power dock for smart-phones. Kitty-Land Fun was starting its new season.