There are fish swimming around in the ceiling. The seven of them glow magnificently, each fish in a different color of the rainbow. Their bodies fan out and fade from light to dark on their fins. When they swim, they glide as if they're in water while their fins ripple like beautiful silk.
All I can do is stare at them. My head is tilted back, my neck resting on my chair as I blankly spy into their fantasy world.
I watch them blow rainbow bubbles from their little noses, which is strange to me. Honestly, you'd think the bubbles would come from their mouths. I think it would make much more sense that way, though this is a funnier version.
One fish sneezes like a cat, blowing millions of little bubbles out of its nose, being hurtled backwards and into another fish. I find myself chuckle over it and continue to watch, though I hear a sound. A voice from the front of the classroom, that seems to get louder. I can't really understand it so I just ignore it-
SLAM!
Instantly as the this smashing sound echoes about the room, frightening the fish and I snap upward. My eyes pin point on the teacher, He has that familiar disdain sense on his face that he seems to only gift to me.
"Mister Algernon," He calls upon me, "does it look like I'm teaching on the ceiling?"
I answer honestly, finding no reason not to "No. If you were I'd probably be paying attention."