Students filed into the School one bleak, rainy winter day in January. They huddled together to keep warm and engaged in meaningless conversation to fill the oppressive silence.

When the bell rang, the students, all either getting sick, feeling sick, or partially recovered, filed, quavering into the class. Resigned to their fates, they sat down at their desks.

Ms Stewart walked in, and closed the door behind her. She walked into the middle of the room then stopped, bewildered, then let out an ear piercing scream. On the floor lay a student who apparently had succumbed to the flu. Ms. Stewart cautiously leaned forward and apprehensively checked for a pulse. Finding none, she winced, then stood  up, and stared imploringly at the class. The class stared back, 

their glassy eyes shining dully in the gray light coming from the filthy windows.  

Her voice, quivering slightly, Ms. Stewart proclaimed, "We must, in this  time of tragedy, unite, once and for all, for the good of all mankind !" After a short pause she continued, "We must help this unfortunate child get to the nurse."

The class was staring blankly out the windows, and some students were now drooling on their desks. The students all knew what had happened to the deceased student, and they knew it was not the fault of the flu. They also knew, all too well, that if they said a single  word about it to a teacher, the same fate would be waiting for them. They said and did nothing.

"I  had a strange premonition  that something like this was  going to happen," thought Ms Stewart. "How about this?" she said as cheerfully as

she could - "Everyone  who helps me get this student to the nurse will receive...hmmm... $20 no... $40!" The students' eyes lit up, for the first time since September. They knew it was likely a bluff, but any chance to earn 40 dollars, was worth the effort.  

Within  2 minutes a computer cart with the deceased student secured to the top with scotch tape was rolling down the hallway. As the students marched down the  hallway, they were joined by others from different classrooms and grades. Some were carrying instruments and playing cheerful songs. One voice rose above them all, "Hurray comrades! Now thanks to this student's great sacrifice, a bright future is open to us! You will see, life will get better and happier too!" The procession roared its way down the hallway. It showed the gleeful vitality of the youthful generation. But nothing gold can shine forever...

The music and songs stopped at once when the students arrived at the stairwell.

"Oh the dreaded, woeful, stairwell! What shall we do comrades?" shouted the same student who had spoken in the parade.

"Maybe we should take the elevator," meekly whispered a Sixth Grader.

The whole mob of students turned and looked at him with so much hate and contempt, that the poor Sixth Grader passed out from sheer fright.

"Now, what do we do with traitors, comrades?" said the same student as before.

The whole mob chanted, "Throw him down the stairs, throw him down the stairs!"

The poor, still unconscious Sixth Grader was picked up and chucked down the stairs like a log of wood.

"Now comrades, our Deceased Student, what must we do with him?"

The students all yelled "Long live Comrad General Secretary"!

"Now at the count of 3, we push it down the stairs!" shouted the Comrad General Secretary.

" One... Two... Three...!"

The computer cart was pushed, and it violently tumbled down the stairs. When it reached the bottom, it tipped over, crushing the poor Sixth Grader.

There was a scream of anguish, from the Sixth Grader, and then there was silence.

The General Secretary descended, slowly, down the stairs to inspect the carnage. he was followed closely by his comrades.

Upon reaching the landing The General Secretary turned to his comrades and said "Hmm..."  

His comrades looked at him and responded with a "Hmm..."

"Well comrades' ' The General Secretary said, wholeheartedly. "What must we do now?". All the response he got from them was an enthusiastic solute and a "Long live the General Secretary".   

A Small Sixth Grader standing in the rear of the crowd, for some inexplicable reason shouted, at the top of his lungs "Long Live Comrade Stalin!''. No one paid any attention to this outburst.

On The General Secretary's orders, ten students gathered behind the cart and heaved it to the second flight of stairs. On the count of "three" the cart was pushed down the stairs once again, though this time it landed upright, and rolled two more feet before stopping. Joy was once again in the air as the students cheerfully skipped down the stairs.

 Once everyone had assembled on the ground floor, The General Secretary looked over his Army Of Revolutionaries. There was everyone from, pipsqueak 6th graders, who had not gone through puberty yet, to 8th grade gorillas, who shaved twice a day. "The Gorillas could serve in my Secret Police Force", thought The General Secretary, with satisfaction. Then he turned to the Pipsqueaks. "And here is the "Fun Size" army" he thought, laughing, "I'll figure out what to do with them later... "

Sensing that the crowd needed stimulation The General Secretary decided it was time to give a speech. A podium was brought in from the auditorium. The photographs of The General Secretary, made by the school's photo hobbyist, Giorgy Beria, were mounted on slabs of plywood, taken from the school's shop classroom. To the slabs of plywood were attached sticks so as they could be held up above the crowd.

It was decided, unanimously, that the rally was to be held in the Gym, since it was the only room that could hold the whole school at once. Banners showing the newly created slogans "Long Live Comrade General Secretary" "From Day to Day Life is Getting Better and Happier" and of course "A Bright Future is Open to Us" all of these were written in gold colored capital letters on a red background. All of these Items were carried into, and distributed through the Gymnasium.

Even though the Gymnasium was the largest room in the school, it was still a tight fit for all the students. There was hardly enough room for The General Secretary's podium. Once the last student entered the auditorium, the doors were hastily shut and the room went deathly silent, in anticipation of The General Secretary's speech. The General Secretary, accompanied with a standing ovation, marched up to, and took his place at the podium.  

His closest comrade, Comrade Molotov, began the Rally with a few words of admiration:

"We gather here, today, to hear one of the Greatest Leaders, In the History of Mankind speak to us in person! You are all very lucky to be here, so please give our dearest, and most beloved, The Comrade General Secretary, a warm welcome!"  

The General Secretary, wearing a phony, bushy black mustache, waved to the crowd. The crowd was cheering and shouting "Hurray! Hurray! Hurray!" The General Secretary surveyed the room. Among the hundreds of portraits, of himself, he saw the one of Comrade Stalin. This stirred a strange, unpleasant, feeling inside of him. He realized that it was LOVE. He realized that, his whole life, he had LOVED Comrade Stalin more than anything, or anyone, including his parents, his hamster and his favorite pencil sharpener. In his bedroom, he had at least 40 portraits of Stalin, and he had spent some of the loneliest hours of his life staring at them. Many times, when his parents were staying late at their jobs, he would eat dinner with Stalin, sometimes he would even give him a serving of food.  What he loved most about Stalin was his GAZE, which at the same time, was KIND and STERN, like the summer's sun, and steel.