So....sorry I didn't update this one in forever....yeah. like, a year and a half....BUT that's because I was in another country without internet access, and now I'm back, and so excited to write this baby!

Comments are amazing and give me lots of motivation!

Love you guys!!

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I know I already said I don't like high schoolers, but these ones seemed especially sad. Just looking at them made me tired, and this is right after I got into a fight.

            If you can really call it a fight. It had been kinda one sided. It basically just went like this:

            "Who are you? How did you get into the classroom?" The substitute asked suspiciously, and then I knocked him out, tied him up, stole his clothes and ID card, and stuffed him in the room's supply closet.

            Then I changed into his clothes and tried my best to pass myself off as Marty Sullivan, the slightly awkward new substitute teacher. But, as always, my awesomeness shone through.

            "Hey, you awkward little pubescent children! Since you are still ruled by your quaint little hormones, I'm sure you're all way too distracted by my good looks and manly physique to possibly pay attention to something as boring as world history, but let's all try our best, shall we?"

            "The bell hasn't even rung yet. Why is he already talking to us?" One kid groaned.

            "Where's Ms. Meade?" Another complained.

            Um, hello. You have the iest man alive as your substitute teacher. Who would you rather look at for forty five minutes? An ugly, beady eyed fifty year old lady? Or the aforementioned iness?

            I reasoned that they must be lesbians. Or blind. Maybe both. Realizing my efforts were wasted on such people, I sat down in the teacher's desk, reviewing what the teacher had on the agenda. Worksheets. Fun. I really didn't understand this sort of teaching method. Mine was—give them all the information, then throw them into a life or death situation where they need to know the smallest details of what I told them before.

            It generally worked. If it didn't, sometimes I just let them die, other times I just saved them, called them failures and insisted I wouldn't teach them anymore until they became a better student.

            More students trickled into the room, some zombie-like and lethargic, others bright and cheerful, laughing and gossiping with their friends. None of them looked over at my desk, which was disappointing, but slightly understandable. It was in the back, and if my teacher was that hag, I probably would avoid looking at her as much as I could, too.

            Finally, though, I looked in the mirror, wondering if my face had just become uglier. Usually when girls saw me, they started giggling and whispering. It was disconcerting getting ignored.

            Oh. See, sometimes, my magic goes a little out of control. It's like it gets overexcited and do what it thinks I want, but I actually didn't want to do that. That didn’t make sense. It's like if you say to your grandma, I wish I had some warmer clothes. You're thinking of a coat, scarf, gloves, and maybe some rocking boots. She hand sews you the ugliest sweater you've ever seen. That's what my magic does sometimes.

            So, I was thinking, I am right now disguising myself as Marty Sullivan. I was thinking. Steal his clothes, act kinda like a teacher. My magic thought, hey, let's actually make him look like the ugly, overweight, smelly Marty Sullivan.

            No, magic. This isn't what I wanted. I sighed, forcing the illusion away from me. They can create conspiracy theories and suspect I'm a wizard all they want. Who wants to look like a fat guy with bad teeth? Actually, I wonder why he hasn't killed himself yet. That's what I would do if I looked like that.

            Yeah, I said it. You were all thinking it, anyways.

            Nobody looked back at the desk, though. Great. That works. Just ignore me, It's not like I care, anyways. Just a gorgeous person sitting in your mediocre classroom. That's all. If you want to ignore me, go ahead and ignore me. I opened up the newspaper, blocking my face from view, and rested my feet on the desk.

            Just then, a boy rushed into the room. "Guys! You'll never believe whose car is in the parking lot—the guy that made us his car!" I smirked from where I sat. Aw, man. Those kids were in my class? That rocked.

            "What?" A girl asked, surprised.

            "Yeah, there's all these smears on it from where we it."

            "Ew! He didn't even clean it?"

            My eyebrows scrunched into a scowl. I would if all the carwashes weren't closed. You try finding one open in the middle of the night.

            "I wonder why he's here?" another girl wondered aloud, "Do you think he's out for revenge."

            "You act like he cares enough about you guys to follow you around." This was an unfamiliar voice. "What did you do anyways? I thought you were going to egg Meade's car."

            "Shh! Hangeng!"

            "What? It's a sub today. Mr….Sullivan."

            "Oh. I've never had him before. Have you?"

            "No. He must be new." Just then, the bell rang and I strode to the front of the room. The group of kids that had egged my car looked like they were about to die in shock.

            "You!" The ringleader pointed an accusatory finger at me.

            "Hey, punks. I'm your substitute teacher for today." I cocked my head to the side. "Do you have a problem with that?"

            "Yeah! Are you following us or something?" He accused. Really? Did he really think I was that desperate for a good time? Wait. What if he was the next hero? Holy crap. If that happened, I think I really would kill myself.

            "Don't flatter yourself. Why do you think I was at the hag's house in the first place? It wasn't for a NcMo, that's for sure."

            "So you're…" The cogs finally seemed to be spinning in his little brain.

            "Merely a freaking epic substitute? Yeah." I answered, smiling. "Now let's get to know each other a little. Names Mr. Sullivan, and I'm basically the coolest person you're ever gonna meet. Hands down. No competition. So, let's elaborate a little, shall we? All right, first things first, I'm freaking gorgeous. Not everybody is born with this kind of face, kids. You certainly weren't. Then, I'm basically a genius. You know. Rich, too. But the best part about me is my delightful personality. I'm pretty much a saint, you know? You're laughing because you think I'm joking, but I'm really not. I don't blame you, though. All these good traits in one person? I wouldn't believe it if I were you, either."

            A hand raised in the back. I took in his features, trying to remember the class list I'd been given. If I remembered correctly, his name was Han something. I nodded at him, giving him leave to speak. "Do you have mental problems?" He asked, face completely serious.

            "No, I have mental Skills." I answered, not even blinking. "And you…what's your excuse?" I rolled around some ideas in my head. How could I find out which one of these hopeless little imbeciles was the chosen one? I reviewed the prophecies in my mind.

            No one looks at him. He is their salvation, but he is forgotten. To them, he is like a fleck of sand in a beach. A single tree in the forest. A star in a sea of stars. But in truth, he is the star in the darkness, the single plant in a desert, a rare diamond in the midst of a pile of coal.

            That one didn't exactly help me at all.

            Taken from a foreign land….

            That one could help, because it could mean a foreign exchange student or something like that….I looked around the room. It looked like there was only one foreigner here, and that was Han something.

            He who shuns the color of royalty.

            "Do you like the color purple?" I asked suddenly. Han something, who had been saying some sort of meaningless thing,  stopped suddenly, blinking.

            "I'm sorry?"

            "Purple. You know. Blue. And Red. Put together. Do you like it?"

            "Not…particularly. Why?" I grinned. He was the one. So, then, there wasn't any point in sticking around here anymore. I marched up to him, putting my face in his.

            "Because that means you're the one I want." I grabbed Hangeng, and flipped him over onto my back. He protested, trying to fight back, but I just tied him up with my magic. The other kids jumped from their seats, not knowing at all what to do. I turned to them, grinning.

            "Yo. Sorry 'bout all this, but the truth is, I'm in charge of finding a hero to save the land of Celestia from the Wicked King. My real name is Kim Heechul, and I'm five thousand years old. Actually, just think of me as a really hot version of Gandalf. I found him, so we'll be leaving now. Peace out, ers!" with that, I opened the portal to Celestia and threw Hangeng inside. As an afterthought, I turned around. "The real Mark Sullivan is in the supply closet, by the way. Oh, and just tell everybody that Hangeng is dead. He's never coming back. See ya, peeps."

            I jumped through the portal, leaving behind a sea of shocked faces.