"Everybody give Stav a round of applause," Mr Winterbottom told the assembly, and Stav took a bow.

Percy sat in the 5^th row and clapped for his classmate. Being awarded the top-bloke award by the coordinator was the highest honour a year eight student could be given at Boy College.

"I would just like to say that I like being given this award," Stav told the year level, which was followed immediately by laughter and another round of applause.

"You deserve that, Stav," Mr Winterbottom smiled cheerfully. "And I sincerely hope that you and your family have a safe and merry Christmas."

"Right back at ya’, Mr W," Stav replied, and walked off the stage.

"Before I dismiss you for the Christmas holidays, I have just one more award to give out!" Mr Winterbottom announced to the year level with a slight smirk.

Percy sat nervously in the corner of the 5^th row. He had been a model student, right throughout the year. He always had his shirt tucked in, his tie was always done up and he was never out of uniform. Would he win an award on the last day of year eight?

"The all-round loser award goes to…of course…Percy Pumpernickel!" Mr Winterbottom announced.

Percy was amazed. He won! It may have been a ‘loser’ award, but it was still an award! Making him…a winner!

"Thankyou, thankyou!" Percy cheered, and ran to the stage with a small tear in his eye. "I really appreciate being given this honour, and I would like to thank Mr Winterbottom for being such a fantastic coordinator!"

But as he stepped onto the stage, Mr Winterbottom just shook his head at Percy with a derisive grin. "Percy, there is no award! I lied! You don’t win anything, loser!" he laughed, and with that, he kicked him off the stage as the audience of fourteen year old students laughed.

Percy picked himself off the ground with a sigh. Maybe next year, he said to himself. It was then that he discovered that his shirt was slightly untucked at the side! It must have happened on the way down from the stage!

"PERCY!" Mr Winterbottom roared. "Your shirt is untucked, you bastard!"

Percy had by then tucked it back in, but it was too late.

"Do you think we have these rules for your amusement? NO! You think that you’re such a rebel, don’t you? Well, let’s just see if the other students think what you have done was rebellious."

Percy looked at his fellow classmates, and they all shook their heads at him. Stav even took the trouble to throw a pen at his face.

"Well, Percy. I guess you are a loser. Detention!" Mr Winterbottom declared.

"But it’s the last day of school, sir…" Percy retorted, smiling nervously.

"Hey! It’s your shirt who’s untucked loser! Not mine! Now you’re turning up for detention, right here, at Boy College, on the 25^th of December, at 8AM!"

"But that’s Christmas Day!" Percy complained.

"Listen you little arsehole," Mr Winterbottom threatened. "You either turn up for the Christmas Detention at 8AM sharp, or I will hunt you down and I will kill you! If you’ve got anything to say, see me after the assembly."

And so, after the students were dismissed for the year, Percy approached Mr Winterbottom. He would have to change the arrangement; a detention on Christmas was asking a bit too much.

Nonetheless, Mr Winterbottom punched him in face before anything could be said. "Now bugger off!" he yelled, pointing outside. Percy lifted himself from the ground again and walked away. Well, that was settled then. He was going to have a Christmas Detention.

"What day is it?" the bus driver asked Percy as he stepped onto the bus that morning.

"Christmas Day," Percy replied.

"You’re damned right!" the bus driver complained. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Sir Creamy! Anyway, look at you! You’re a boy, aren’t you!"

"Yes, I…"

Sir Creamy slammed his fist on the horn for no particular reason. "I know you go to Boy College, okay! Just stop rubbing it in!"

Percy looked at his bus driver in bewilderment before buying a ticket and sitting at the back of the bus. Some Christmas this was going to be, he thought. He actually had to wear his uniform, too! Of course, the shirt was tucked in at all sides.

"You see how you’re on a bus?" the bus driver yelled to him. "Well I’d like that too!"

"Great," Percy called back.

"Under it, that is…" Sir Creamy added, with a slightly psychotic smirk. "Under the bus! Until I was dead!"

Percy looked away from him and out of the window. Was this man okay?

"Yes, I work on Christmas," the driver began to sing. "All Christmas…no family for me…"

Percy pretended not to listen.

"Come here, boy…" Sir Creamy chuckled slyly.

Percy slowly stood up and approached his bus driver. "Yes?" he asked.

He pointed to Percy’s tie. "You wear that around your neck! Well I would too! Only much tighter!"

"Oh, would you?" Percy responded nervously. "Um, cool…"

"Aren’t you slightly…afraid of me?" Sir Creamy smiled, displaying a set of black, rotting teeth.

"Um, no, I’m not afraid of you…"

Sir Creamy sighed, and shook his head. "Sit down."

Percy went back to his seat. But soon, he stood up again. "Uh, excuse me, but we’re not going the right way!" he called out. "I have to be at my school by 8AM…"

But it so happened that the bus driver was holding a handsaw and was using it to pick his nose. "So you need to be at Boy College, do you?" Percy remained silent. The situation was getting ugly. "Well, here we are! Boy College!"

Percy stood up and looked out of the window and could see a public swimming pool. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes…this is the place!" Sir Creamy chuckled, opening the doors, turning off the bus and walking out.

Percy decided that to remain seated would be useless. He needed to talk some sense into this driver! He only had 30 minutes to get to Christmas Detention, or Mr Winterbottom would kill him!

Percy followed his bus driver into the swimming pool grounds and up a diving board. The five-metre diving board. And there was no water in the diving pool! Just what was Sir Creamy going to do?

"Don’t do it!" Percy called out. Sir Creamy looked over the edge, holding his handsaw.

"Boy College has done this to me!" he cried. "I wanted to be the nurse, but no! They chose that little whore, Miss Vanderbilt!"

"Now that’s a little harsh," Percy rebuked. "She is a good nurse and is always kind and…"

But by now, the bus driver had taken his handsaw and had begun sawing at the diving board he was standing on. "I will be a martyr! Let it be known that I, the honourable Sir Creamy, has killed himself because of Boy College!"

"No!’ Percy gulped.

Sir Creamy looked over at Percy and stopped sawing. "No, you’re right. I can’t end it all like this…I have so much to live for…"

"That’s right," Percy told him, breathing a sigh of relief. "Suicide is never the answer."

"You are right!" Sir Creamy smiled, the psychotic grin returning to his face. "Murder is so much more fun!"

"Uh, what do you mean?" Percy asked, before he noticed that he was being approached with the saw.

"You go to Boy College!" he laughed. "You will be my revenge!"

"NO!" Percy cried. "They won’t care if I die anyway!" Realising that this meant nothing to Sir Creamy, Percy ran down the diving board stairs as fast as his little legs could carry him. He needed to be at detention soon!

"Come back here, you little rascal!" Sir Creamy yelled from the top of the diving board. "Just wait ‘til I get you, you little bastard!"

He made it! And with only one minute to spare, Percy ran into Boy College. He found Mr Winterbottom eating around a table with the staff of Boy College.

"Oh, so you finally decided to show up?" he sneered. "Well, newsflash, Percy! You’re late!"

"No, I’m five minutes early!" Percy answered back.

"You just don’t know when to shut up, do you?" Mr Winterbottom asked his disobedient pupil angrily. "Let me see your shirt!"

Percy looked at his waist nervously…could his shirt have been untucked during the swimming pool fiasco?

"Percy, you little turd! Your shirt is untucked on the side!"

Percy gulped. He was right.

"Well, I think you’ve made your decision, Percy," Mr Winterbottom scowled. "You have arrived late, with your shirt untucked…I think that you know perfectly well what this will result in."

Percy stared at his coordinator as he was shown a small pistol in his left pocket.

"Mr Winterbottom, where’s your Christmas cheer?" came a voice from the table where the staff were eating. It was the school nurse, Miss Vanderbilt. "Percy is our guest! Offer him some ham!"

Mr Winterbottom slipped the gun back into his pocket and frowned at Percy. "You got lucky. But just you wait. I’ll get you yet!"

He and Percy went and sat down at the table. Mr Winterbottom, looking at Miss Vanderbilt’s face, reluctantly gave Percy a slice of ham.

"Do you like that, Percy?" Miss Vanderbilt asked.

"Yes, thankyou!" Percy replied. He noticed that Mr Winterbottom was sticking his rude finger up at him.

"That’s good, Percy. How have you holidays been? Good, I hope!" she smiled.

"Yes, thanks," Percy replied. "How have yours been?"

Mr Winterbottom stood up in anger and pointed a gun at Percy’s face. "That’s it, Percy! No one chats up the school nurse but me, you prick!"

There was a silence across the table. Miss Vanderbilt stood up angrily. "Listen, Winterbottom, stop playing games, put that gun away and give Percy another piece of ham!"

Mr Winterbottom looked at her, put the gun back in his pocket and gave Percy another slice of ham. Percy looked terrified.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" Miss Vanderbilt asked Percy, but before he could answer, Mr Winterbottom gave a yawn, and put his feet up on the table.

"So, Miss Vanderbilt…how do you intend on spending Boxing Day?"

"Well, I thought I might go for a little drive in the…" she began.

"Can I come?" he asked excitedly.

"Uh, look, I’ll have to see," she replied.

Damn, he thought to himself. He’d have to be nice to Percy if he wanted to impress her. So Mr Winterbottom got out of his chair, approached Percy and roughly screwed up his hair. "Well, how’s my favourite little loser?" he asked with a forced smile.

"Good," Percy replied, fearfully.

Mr Winterbottom looked at Miss Vanderbilt and noticed she was smiling.

"That’s good," he smiled. "What do you say we burst a bonbon? I have a special one right here!"

Percy looked worried.

"That will be very nice," Miss Vanderbilt smiled. "Do you want to pull the bonbon, Percy?"

"I guess so," Percy answered, reluctantly. Mr Winterbottom reached out with the bonbon in his hand. Percy pulled it straight out of his coordinator’s hand with ease.

"Don’t look at me like that!" Mr Winterbottom laughed. "Pull it yourself!"

"Don’t be silly," Miss Vanderbilt chuckled. "Here, Percy, I’ll break it with you!"

But Mr Winterbottom looked anxious. He didn’t want to kill her. As she reached over the table to pull the bonbon, he went down on his hands and knees, and began to bark like a dog.

"What on earth are you doing?" she asked him with a weird look.

"Arf, arf!" he barked, pouncing at the bonbon, taking it in his mouth and running to a nearby window where he could drop it out of.

As an explosion could be heard outside, Miss Vanderbilt put her hands on her hips and stood up. "Winterbottom! Did you just try to kill Percy?" she wanted to know, angrily.

"Arf?" the coordinator said meekly.

"How dare you! Percy is the guest of honour here! Now get off your knees, stop mucking around and offer Percy some more ham!" she scolded.

Mr Winterbottom stood up, quickly stuck his rude finger up at Percy when she wasn’t looking and sat down again. "Do you want some more ham, you little loser?"

"No thanks, sir," Percy gulped.

Just how could he woo that nurse back? Mr Winterbottom thought to himself. "Hey! Let’s all photocopy our arses!" he suggested. The staff, including Miss Vanderbilt, gave him a strange look. Mr Winterbottom kicked Percy’s foot under the table. When Percy looked up, he stuck his rude finger up at him again. "Just you wait, you little turd!" he said quietly. "You’re not going to get away with this!"

This wasn’t necessarily Percy’s best Christmas ever. He was on detention, and by now had become quite certain that his coordinator wanted him dead and would be taking action to see that it happened. He tried to smile, but unfortunately only a little sigh could come out.

"Are you all right, sweetie?" asked Miss Vanderbilt, noticing that Percy looked slightly disheartened. "Cheer up! It’s Christmas!"

Meanwhile, Mr Winterbottom was not happy. Percy was getting all the chicks, the little bastard! He obviously was putting on an act, just so he could get the nurse’s sympathy.

"That’s it!" Mr Winterbottom fumed. "I’m sick of you, Percy, flirting with the nurse! She’s mine, you tidbit! Now get up and fight me like a man!"
Percy gulped.

"I challenge you to a duel!" the fuming coordinator declared, picking a golden, glass-ball decoration off the nearby Christmas tree and throwing it at Percy’s skull.

"Ow!" Percy cried, and fell off his chair. His head hurt.

"Shouldn’t we stop him?" asked a nearby teacher.

Miss Vanderbilt smiled and shook her head. "Boys will be boys, eh!" she laughed.

Mr Winterbottom had by now climbed up on top of the table. Before Percy could get back on his feet, he beat his chest like an ape. "Look out, faggot!" he roared, and elbow dropped Percy! Right onto his head!

"Please, I don’t want to fight any more…" Percy struggled to say as he held his head in his hands.

"I’ll kill you, arsehole!" Mr Winterbottom seethed, picking Percy up by his tie. "You’ve ruined my life for the last time!"

Suddenly a "Ho, ho, ho!" was heard. Mr Winterbottom turned his head to see Santa Clause, standing right there at the doorway!

"Santa!" Mr Winterbottom cried in happiness, dropping Percy to the ground. "I’ll never forget that robot toy, never!"

"I’m not who you think! Remember that man who didn’t get the job?" Santa Clause asked, and took off his beard. It was Sir Creamy!

Percy looked up and realised that things were not getting any better. There were now two people here who wanted to kill him, not just one!

"Sorry, I don’t remember you at all…" Mr Winterbottom paused.

"Well, maybe you should ask her!" Sir Creamy shrieked, pointing a finger straight at Miss Vanderbilt.

She seemed startled. "Oh yes! You were at that job interview!" she gasped. "How are you? I haven’t seen you in ages!"

"Admit it! You are the nurse!" Sir Creamy accused her.

"Yes, that’s true," she smiled proudly.

"Well, look at me now!" Sir Creamy laughed, with a deranged, not to mention psychotic look on his face. "I’m Santa Clause! The most powerful, influential and superior human being on the planet!"

"Congratulations!" Miss Vanderbilt said cheerfully. "And Merry Christmas! Would you like some ham? Percy, give him some ham!"
"Oh, I admit it!" Sir Creamy wailed. "I’m not a superior human being at all…I’m nothing but a bus driver!" And at that, he took out a can of deodorant. "Now I shall kill myself!" he grinned. "And it will be all your fault!"

"No!" Miss Vanderbilt screamed. "Now listen, Sir Creamy, you have got plenty to live for! Don’t kill yourself over something as petty as this!"

"Oh, trust you to talk, foul lady of the night! You are a nurse at this school!" he pouted.

"Oh," she sighed. "Percy! Help talk this poor man out of it!"

Percy nodded, and slowly approached Sir Creamy.

"What do you want?" the suicidal bus driver asked him angrily. "I want everyone to know that Boy College and its totalitarian policies have killed me!"

"Please, Sir Creamy," Percy said quietly. "Don’t do this…you are not only a great bus driver and nurse, but I thought you made a great Santa Clause before…"

"I don’t believe you" Sir Creamy huffed, and lifted the deodorant can to his lips.

"Look, if there’s one thing I’ve learned today," Percy began. "It’s that life is…"

But before any more could be said, Mr Winterbottom ran in, barking like a dog. Swiftly, he took the deodorant from Sir Creamy with his mouth.

"That’s how you stop someone suiciding, you bitch!" Mr Winterbottom yelled, slapping Percy in the face. "Trying to be such a big hero aren’t you! Well you are a loser!"

Percy dropped his head in shame.

"You saved his life!" Miss Vanderbilt smiled, looking at Mr Winterbottom in admiration.

"I’ll never forget you, sir," Sir Creamy smiled, with a tear dripping out of his eye. "Whenever I wake up in the morning, I’ll remember that it was because of you!"

"Well, I say we have a toast!" Miss Vanderbilt smiled.

Quickly and efficiently, Mr Winterbottom deviously poured the deodorant into Percy’s drink. "Let’s see you get out of this one, faggot!" he chuckled to himself.

"Here’s to Mr Winterbottom!" she announced, and they all drank the wine. And in Percy’s case, the deodorant.

"How’s your wine," Mr Winterbottom asked Percy with a wicked grin.

"Nice, thanks," Percy told him in fright.

He then looked at Percy sternly. "I’ve got you now, you little bastard!" he sneered. "I’ve spiked your drink with deodorant! Anything to say before you die?"

"Uh…sorry about my shirt?" Percy stuttered. Was he really going to die?

"You’re forgiven!" Mr Winterbottom smiled politely. "Just remember…the nurse is mine!"

Before long, Percy had passed out.

"Percy!" Miss Vanderbilt screamed, standing up from her chair as she saw the little boy collapse. "Speak to me! Are you okay?"

"I wouldn’t bother," Mr Winterbottom smirked. "I guess he just couldn’t handle the fact that I saved the day and he didn’t!"

She was silent. "Well, I’ll just call the ambulance…"

"Before you go," Mr Winterbottom blushed. "I was just wondering…would you like to see a movie with me or something? Just a porno or something, nothing special…"

"Look, I’m flattered," she told him. "But I just can’t…"

"Why not?" Mr Winterbottom shouted. "Percy’s dead! We’re finally free!"

"It’s not you…it’s your surname," she told him. "Winterbottom isn’t much of a surname…I’m terribly sorry."

Mr Winterbottom turned away from her with a frown. "I’ll get you for this, Percy," he growled, looking down at his body. "If you weren’t dead, that is."

Sir Creamy put down his glass of wine. "Uh, he’s not dead yet!" he announced, as Percy awoke, blinking.

"Where am I?" Percy asked.

"You’re okay!" cheered Miss Vanderbilt happily. "And you’re with friends! Good friends! Isn’t that right, Mr Winterbottom?"

"Oh, shut up you harlot!" Mr Winterbottom replied, as she took Percy out to the health centre. "Next time, Percy," he cackled. "Next time!"