Giant rodent headmaster

I have always been okay with biology lab, until we were asked of strangulation. I swear to higher powers that for a moment the poor little thing was on his knees pleading desperately for his life, so I conveniently passed on the dirty job to my chubby teammate chubby Chuck. CC still had the piece of cinnamon Dentyne from Tuesday in his big mouth, and a blue Yankee cap from before the team was formed on. That's the type who doesn't give a rat's ass about a rat's ass I reckoned.

A tingly feeling chilled my body, stroke me dizzy, ached my right femur and left me with blurry vision when CC pulled the string and choked the day light out of the little mouse. The white stucco ceiling spun counter clockwise and chaotic voices echoed in my ears while he was gutting our tiny lifeless specimen for the next twenty minutes; I just couldn't concentrate enough to see a thing.

I was rubbing my temple, limping down the hallway after the bell, weary of what had just happened, among kids scrambling for the next class - they all seemingly donned the lab gowns, strange - when the admin waved me in to the office of the principal. Mr. Milk rose from vice principal six years ago and had since carried a Victorian pocket watch in the breast pocket of the same three button black stripe suit he wore to school everyday, annoyingly referred to himself as the headmaster in a faux British accent every chance he had.

I knocked several times on the dark cherry door, no answer, so I nudged it open when a giant gray rat popped from behind the door all of a sudden. Loomed seven feet like a bear with red pupils in Mr. Milk's suit carrying a slice of smelly gouda in one paw and pointed at me with the other, he solemnly and authoritatively declared "You are all dead!"

I dropped all my books, cried mama, turned and ran like six-million-dollar-man on that treadmill down the corridor, pass the wall of lockers, pass everybody in lab gowns, straight to the exit. But when I busted the double door open it wasn't outside. It was a gloomy waiting room of a clinic of some sort.

"The principal..." I hurried up to some busty woman in a nurse outfit "is a big rat..." panting hard and confused, I produced a coherent enough statement.

"Keep quiet and sit down." She instructed indifferently and turned away. When I finally settled on a bench and looked around, I realized what everybody else wearing were not lab gowns, but straitjackets.

That's one uh-oh moment right there.