Short story with humorous segments

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Clifford Anniston was a highly pedantic person and was often seen as a hermit individual among friends and staff at school. The truth was that he detested the whole school system and every single particle in it, even the building itself made him feel ill and gave him rise to claustrophobic feelings. Meeting friends from school at spare time was unthinkable, he preferred spending his time at home in loneliness and making all his literature stand in a straight line in the bookshelf that he had closer to his hart than any human person. His most beloved books were placed at an individual shelf, and among them the very special book that had made him change his point of view concerning the meaning of life, the Bible. He had read it countless of times and could not remember one single occasion when he was not fascinated of the incredible stories that described the destiny of his idols Abraham and Moses. Even though he had spoken to the school principal, demanding that the Bible should be a part of the basic school literature, he had not succeed to have his own way. Clifford felt disregarded wherever he came up with propositions. Maybe his so-called friends were right in saying that he was continually strenuous. But that was an impossibility, how could he who followed the Ten Commandments so carefully be strenuous? When he thought about it, he had always strived for helping his fellow beings, so for that reason he found it rather strange that he had been classified as a person who is nothing else then demanding. He considered that the whole society was morally wrong with people who did not lead their lives after Christian values and who had lost their faith in God.

Clifford woke up early that morning and jumped out of his bed. Not to forget was to make the bed with feeling, so that not a single wrinkle could be seen. He ate his breakfast, remembering to thank God for every bite of food he put into his mouth, and brushed his teeth shortly thereafter. After finding himself attractive to the opposite sex, he began his way to the bus stop where the school bus was supposed to pick him up. However, the ride to school was always nothing more than an eternal pain. Yelling pupils, often throwing small paper pieces of yesterdays´ homework at each other, and a sadistic bus chauffeur making use of the buss´ loudspeaker system for threatening disobedient passengers. And when you finally arrive, in most cases late, you have to run through the whole school yard, up the stairs made of bare marble, and then into the classroom breathless, without any chance to get the specific books in your locker. When you finally think that you just made yourself on time, an ignorant teacher for who you must give an acceptable reason for your late arrival instead meets you. Mostly the pupils blame the bus chauffeur, explaining he had full urinary bladder and had to take a hold-up. They are not often believed Clifford has noticed, something that is rather obvious when they come with the same explanations every day. Or in other case they blame Clifford who is the only person who is picked up at the Blanderton buss stop. “Clifford was late as usual” or “Clifford dropped his books to the ground”, are the ordinary alternatives they use to choose among.

But Clifford do not blame them, he has nothing against being appointed as the martyr of his class. He is convinced that it is Gods task to judge all their sins on their day of death, not his. Instead he takes seat at an unoccupied chair and tries to keep a restrained behaviour.
Is he the only one who can find himself starring at the teacher that is holding a lecture for a while, and has during this not cached a single word of what the teacher is talking about? Clifford found it incredible, like watching a silent film because you see your teachers’ mouth moving rapidly, but not a word is spoken. After a while you are waked up from your daydreams by a voice saying in a irritated tone, “Clifford, can you please repeat what I just said?” Because you were just thinking of, if God forgives, which one of the girls in the class you would want to see nude, you have relatively hard to answer the question with an “yes”. Instead you have to blaim your lack of concentration by saying you went to bed late last night.

Suddenly the pupils could hear the well-known ringing that informed them that the lesson was over. When Clifford was on his way up the main stairs to the corridor where the lockers were situated, he could not resist criticizing the badly selected colours that adorned the walls. Yellow á la the eighties, tasteless and specially chosen by the board of directors to make the pupils detest the place called school even more, he thought. He had to hold on, reminding himself of that it was only a couple of months left before everything was going to be over and he would become the released prisoner who survived. If God allowed so to say. After the summer holidays he could see forward to begin the freestanding upper secondary school that was specially founded for practising Christians. There he would not be treated as a stranger, but as an individual that counted and someone that people listened at. Until then he must stand this school, calling it democratic even though the rules concerning the orders were established only by the adults working here, without taking any notice of what the pupils had in mind. Clifford really hoped that the upper secondary school that he was going to attend after the summer holidays was going to be more democratic than this one. His cousin, named Martin Slay, was a former student there, and according to him it was the worst possible school to choose. Clifford did not know why ...