Kassandra Was a Cruel Child

I once read about a silly little girl that went by the name of Kassandra. It wasn't her real name, of course, that would be too obvious for such an infamous creature.

Kassandra was always full of surprises. On her way to school every morning, she would stop casually at neighbors' gardens and pick her favorite flowers from a different batch each day.

Much to their caretakers' chagrin.

On other days, she would trip her classmates who were casually walking beside her and blame the cars driving by for drafting too much wind.

She knew one of her neighbors worked the night shift and was often just settling into a deep sleep while she was on her way in the mornings. This was unacceptable to Kassandra, as she also wanted to be asleep. She rang his doorbell at least 5 times a month before running off to school.

Much to his sleepy chagrin.

Teacher Franka

Her antics, of course, didn't stop on her morning journeys to school.

Kassandra loved to fool her teachers whenever she had the chance. For she was often smarter than those even 20 years her senior. But whenever a new teacher was assigned to tutor her, they never believed it.

"How could a tiny little girl possess such intelligence?" they would balk.

And Kassandra would always show them in response.

Often, while teaching her teachers just how this was actually possible, her lessons would be in the form of cruel jokes. The kind of jokes that only makes one person laugh; the joke crafter themselves.

One time, a teacher corrected her spelling on a test. This was much to Kassandra's chagrin.

Anything less than 100% was completely unnacceptable to Kassandra, so she had no choice really. She required revenge, and nothing was more important.

She proceeded to slowly pour more and more sugar into her teacher's coffees every day. This teacher, I believe her name was Mrs. Franka, had previously always drunk two cups of coffee in the morning followed by only water in the afternoon.

Knowing the intricacies of caffeine and sugar's nutrional properties, Kassandra set out on a simple mission. A mission of revenge for not getting 100% on her test.

Every time Mrs. Franka left her coffee unattended, Kassandra would slowly replace her beverage with decaf and more sugar.

Day after day, teacher Franka started consuming less caffeine and more sugar. And just as Kassandra predicted, her two cups of coffee a day soon became three.

Then four, then five, and even more on some days. Much to Mrs. Franka's chagrin.

The sugar started adding up too. Mrs. Franka's husband had noticed the change and was starting to suggest she change her diet. But teacher Franka hadn't changed her diet, at least not to her knowledge.

By the fourth month, a sugar addiction and dozens of pounds later, Kassandra moved into phase two of her plan.

She randomly stopped adding the decaf to certain coffees throughout the day. Mrs. Franka, a woman of strict routine throughout her life, became simply erratic.

100 mg of caffeine on Monday became 500 mg on Wednesday. 50 on Thursday didn't mean 300 on Friday.

Mrs. Franka was starting to lose it. Her hair became disheveled and started to grey. Her husband was becoming almost critical of her. Her performance as a teacher, something she always prided herself on, was slipping.

She shouldn't have corrected Kassandra. It was much to her future chagrin.

Baked Goods

Phase three of Kassandra's plan was the last, but not nearly the least. Historians would later go on to describe it as being "brutally cruel" and "most unpleasant."

That was being far too kind.

Kassandra with her massive IQ, helplessly supportive parents, and a newfound instructional manual, suddenly took a massive interest in baking.

And not the modern-age healthy sweetener-substituted mockery of baked goods. No, she wanted the real deal. The old-school sugary sweet fluffy pastries that would bring neighborhood kids running to windowsills for a potential taste.

Kassandra wanted to make the sweetest, unhealthiest, most delicious pastries in the State. And for one purpose. Sweet, sweet, revenge.

At first, she started bringing entire pies to class. Mrs. Franka wouldn't let her eat it, of course. Not in class, anyway.

But Kassandra would always be sure to share her creations, with the first slice reserved for Mrs. Franka herself.

"Won't you please slice my pies, teacher? I am but a prepubescent child, you see. Surely, I cannot use a knife." Kassandra would explain.

How could Mrs. Franka say no?

And of course, while she didn't want to give in, the teacher was severely addicted to sugar by this point.

She always ate at least one piece. Much to her guilty chagrin.

The pies were gooey and flavorful. The cakes were brisk and brightened her day. The cupcakes were small but crusty in an unexplainably good way.

But Kassandra's secret weapon was by no coincidence Mrs. Franka's favorite dessert of all.

Chocolate cake.

It didn't take long for Kassandra to realize this was the teacher's favorite dessert. And suddenly it started appearing in her classroom on a weekly basis. Then almost daily. Then every single day, minus the weekends, historians suspect.

Kassandra soon became a chocolate cake specialist. She would only produce the dessert using the finest ingredients her parents could buy.

Chocolate cake with sprinkles. Chocolate cake with cherries inside. Chocolate cake with little notes of thanks and praise to the teacher written in icing.

Every kind of chocolate cake imaginable was being baked by Kassandra's tiny fingers.

And Mrs. Franka ate them all.

Toot Sweet

As her addiction to sugar grew, her caffeine-fuelled erraticness did as well. The principal started observing her through the classroom window more and more often.

Sometimes she would see Mrs. Franka shake as she etched words in chalk on the board. Other times she swore her hair hadn't been washed in weeks. Other days she saw her sleeping at her desk.

And all the while, her waistband continued to grow and grow and grow. Much to her chagrin.

As the year-end approached, Kassandra's revenge was almost complete.

Mrs. Franka was almost ruined. But that wasn't good enough. She gave Kassandra 95% on her test so many months before, and she had probably forgotten. That was even more unforgivable.

Soon the decaf-non-decaf coffees had a slightly off taste to them. The chocolate cakes became even sweeter, somehow. Mrs. Franka was consuming both at an ever-increasing rate, without knowing why.

But Mrs. Franka had a new problem now, she was gaining a new affinity for using the bathroom. So much so that the principal even noticed, not to mention the poor janitor.

One bathroom visit a day turned into two, then three, then four, then almost to the point where she was spending more time in there than in the classroom.

And then it happened.

After one particularly sweet-tasting piece of chocolate cake, the classroom floor quickly took on the same color. But definitely not the same smell.

Mrs. Franka, sugar-addicted, caffeinated beyond comprehension, losing her sanity, and embarrassed beyond repair did the only thing she could possibly do at that moment.

She ran screaming and crying out of the school in chocolate-fueled humiliation, never to return, much her to her chagrin.

And Kassandra's cruel pleasure.

Kassandra's phase four plan was now complete. One night, months before, she had snuck her mom's credit card out of her purse and purchased what to some might seem to be a lifetime supply of ex-lax.

A substance normally used to help adults go number two when they need a little boost.

For Kassandra, it helped her add the flavor of sweet sweet revenge.

She had finally perfected her chocolate cake recipe. Much to teacher Franka's chagrin.

She was a cruel child, after all.