The Wiff of a spider Chapter three.

Chapter three of my giveaway short story. The other parts can be found by scrolling down this blog on my website.

Chapter three.
After the revelations of the day before, Charlie and Vicky couldn’t wait for lunch and had spent most of the morning misbehaving to ensure they booked a place on a naughty Chair. The headmaster arrived dressed immaculately as always, but looking rather swollen around his nose. He was in fact overstocked, due entirely to the absence of rapping the side of his nose, since having a bandage applied to counter the sprained wrist he had sustained, after throwing a board rubber at Charlie.
“Well then Mr Huntsman” said Mr Wolf seeing him, sat to his front, “how’s the head?”
“Fine thank you Sir, I think it only glanced off the side” he replied illustrating the board rubbers trajectory as he saw it with his hand,
“Oh that will never do” Mr Wolf said, “Remind me to have another go this afternoon”
“Yes Sir” said Charlie to the titters and giggles of all his friends sat within earshot, who appreciated Mr Wolfs banter at mealtimes, off the record so to speak. This was ordinarily exactly as Mr Wolf liked it too, usually contributing with a sly grin, detectable by the children that he taught, that knew him, but not so readily by his fellow teachers.

However, it was a no show day for the spider and there was no sly grin from Mr Wolf, no continued banter, only a grey complexion in his face that deepened as the swelling in his nose got ever greater. He continually lifted his hand to rap the side of his nose only to stop at the last minute as the bandage reminded him of his sprain. But twitching and sniffling, things couldn’t remain as they were for long and Mr Wolf began drawing in deep breaths which he held on tenterhooks for a moment before finally breathing out again. His fascinated audience found themselves doing the same thing, mimicking him in all sincerity, with little laughter until at the seventh holding point there was a verbal,
“Ah… Ah… Ah….. Choooo” as Mr Wolf sneezed like a hurricane coming up from toes which shot the entire contents of both nasal cavities right across the table in front of him. There were venison crumbs, bits of broccoli and cabbage, grains of rice and gristles of bacon all unfolding from the compacted mass that left his nose, plastering the faces, camera and binocular lenses of the aracnifans, with an audible “urrrgh”.
But unbeknown to anyone, least of all Mr Wolf who was never aware anyway, the little spider was caught up in the violence, losing the grip of all six of his legs before finally finding itself being sucked from its lair deep in the moustache and catapulted into the air. As in comparison, there were only one pair of eyes for every now peppered child, no one saw the spider leave, where it went to or what state it might have been in, being covered by what in comparison would be huge boulders of food crumbs and flakes. This explosion of the stockpiles might well have reduced Mr Wolf’s swelling instantaneously, but it had also rendered him unconsciously like a large trout landed freshly on the riverbank gasping for air. His face went from red to blue and his breathing fell away to a whisper.
“Call an ambulance” Vicky shouted, “Mr Wolf looks like he’s about to drop dead!” Fortunately there was an orderly but swift response from the teachers, trained for every eventuality, but a mass panic amongst the children sat on the perpendicular tables that had witnessed everything, revelled in everything and were now sticky, damp and sorry that they had played this game to this conclusion.