It was the end of an era. The gruesome and brutal defeat of our hero. Tommy Shneider was the ultimate dead man walking. Every day was misery for the 10-year-old population at Marion Street Elementary until Tommy did what he did best. 9:30 AM, Ticonderoga pencils that were about the size of a baby carrot with little two-front-teeth bite marks coating the sides were dragged across a thin, slightly crumpled sheet of loose-leaf paper. I sat around watching my poor fellow academicians struggle to write the word “business” three times in a row. I gazed as my teacher strode around the room, glaring at papers like a lion about to pounce on a weak and unarmed gazelle. We were too young to have so much expected of us. Just as I was ready to throw in the towel, I heard the angels sing. The almighty Tommy Shneider glided through the classroom door with a devious smirk painted on his face. Everyone glanced at each other in excitement. “What’d he do? Oh boy what did Tommy do now?” I watched little legs bounce up and down in anticipation, pink Twinkle Toes signaling the start of greatness. Now, everybody knew that throughout the school year, hilarious pranks would be played on teachers, but no faculty actually knew who was doing it, until this fateful Tuesday morning. We had all agreed to keep Tommy’s secret prankster identity private, for these pranks were the only things keeping us going. Just as I was about to write my last “business,” Tommy turned to me and snickered, “Just wait for this one. I really outdid myself.” How could anything top the bouncy balls in Mr. Stuart’s car? Or the stink bomb in the cafeteria? Or the drawing of Mrs. Flemming in chalk right in front of the school?! I knew whatever Tommy was cooking up had to be the best prank of all time. My teacher was still slithering around the classroom, Kyle in the back of the class had woken up to watch this great feat; some kids were already laughing to themselves about what this prank might entail, and Tommy sat back waiting for it all to unfold. Just then, the angels stopped singing, and a dark cloud flew over the classroom of 112. Mr. Johnson, the principal, the rain on every parade, the ruin of everything fun, knocked on the door. I wondered to myself, How does he hide his horns and tail? My breath started to hitch as he walked in, although his eyes did not leave Tommy sitting in his seat. Tommy’s position shifted in his seat and I saw a bead of sweat fall down his face. Every child in that classroom feared for Tommy. Was he going to kill Tommy? What was going to happen? What about this almighty prank?? “Come with me.” I shuddered. Tommy gulped as he slipped on his Cars 2 backpack. He looked back at the classroom one last time before he was escorted out. Nervous glances were shared, a few crayons dropped, and the pencils that had bite marks were now completely bitten. The silence was so loud. Just then, we heard the loudest scream to ever exist. It was almost as if a lion had roared into our ears. Without a second thought, the class of 112 bolted out of the classroom, including the teacher. This was it. We followed the sound right to Mr. Johnson’s office, to see every piece of furniture, every pen, every last speck of dust bolted to his ceiling. Tommy was right; this was the prank to end all pranks. As we cheered and laughed, Tommy just watched. Although he had finally been caught, he stood proud at what he had created. He brought joy and life to the children. His parents were so mad about the pranks they sent him to a military school for behaviorally troubled little boys. We gave him away in a parade. His seat in our classroom was left empty as a memorial, and we all remembered the name Tommy Shneider, the hero of the 4th grade.