[ WP ] Write an epic battle

**Are you allowed to repost responses that you posted for other prompts? If so, here we go... ** 
 
 `` Sir, I need the toilet!'' floated a particularly loud voice, cutting above the general chatter of the room. 
 
 Dr Mehmed turned from the board, where he had been in the middle of writing a particularly convoluted equation that meandered needlessly into the worlds of not only quadratics but also surds, fractions and negative indices. He looked over the top of his glasses, identifying the source of the primary disturbance. His mustache sagged. 
 
 `` Miss Jahromi, what possible way would you need to utilize a lavatory in order to solve this equation?'' he asked, mustache flopping with every word. `` Perhaps you intended to ascertain as to whether you have permission to leave this classroom in order to use the lavatory?'' 
 
 `` You wat?'' asked Güvercin, quickly putting her lipstick down. She turned to her friends who tried to explain to her in their simplest terms. `` Are you dissin me sir? Just cause I ca n't speak all proper like you. Just cause you're a doctor or watever does n't mean your smarter than me. I need the toilet.'' 
 
 Dr Mehmed sighed deeply, shoulders sagging. It was still only first period, for goodness sake. He had to some educate a rabble of nonintellectual ragamuffins on the beauty of binomial distribution before break time. `` It is expressly forbidden by the headmaster himself that pupils should be permitted to leave lessons in order to urinate.'' 
 
 `` Aaaargh! Your so frustrating siiiiiir'' she whined, `` and it's not like we're gon na need this surf incy or watever in life. I wo n't be missin anything.'' 
 
 `` Miss Jahromi. Surds and indices, as you so eloquently put them, will be crucial in order for you to further your study of this field as an A-Level or even as a degree. Missing-'' 
 
 Güvercin cut in. `` Who even gets a degree in maths, apart from you? And you took it waaaay to far, getting a doctor and all that. Going to the loo is way more useful than all this numbers rubbish.'' 
 
 `` I have neither the extended patience nor the literary qualifications to engage in a prolonged debate with you pertaining to the comparison of lavatory usage usefulness and higher mathematics degrees,'' Dr Mehmed stated, `` I am sure that Dr Clifford of the English Department would be quite happy to sacrifice his lunchtime in order to deliberate with you, however.'' 
 
 A loud'OOOOOOOHHH' arose from the class, followed by a general muttering of how Dr Clifford was a legendary guy. 
 
 He continued. `` I am the figure of authority in this classroom, Miss Jahromi, and I thereby deny you the permission necessary for you to leave this classroom. My judgement is final.'' 
 
 `` Uuuuh sir, thass well unfair,'' said Güvercin, hitting her book on the table. `` You let Cornelius go last lesson.'' 
 
 Dr Mehmed had already returned to his task on the board, carefully forming the mathematical symbols required with his chalk. He contemplated informing the insolent girl at the back of his classroom that the student in question, a brilliant scientific and mathematical mind, had actually left for a dental appointment, however, he decided against aggravating the matter. 
 
 A paper plane sailed over his shoulder and impacted on the board, drooping sadly to the floor. Dr Mehmed observed it fall, roughly taking in it's dimensions and the speed at which it had been travelling. 
 
 `` Miss Jahromi, that aeronautical contraption which you just had the audacity to propel at me weighed approximately 5 grams and flew at a speed of 4.1 meters per second.'' He picked up the paper and reassembled it. `` I suggest that next time, you either use my design, capable of flying at a speed of 6 meters per second, or you use your eraser, an object far heavier and thus much more capable to causing me discomfort, which I am led to believe was your intention.'' 
 
 Dr Mehmed blinked. Among the cries of admiration and laughter from his class there was no sharp, whining moan so typical of his problem student. In fact, she was not even in the classroom. The door stood ajar, the small boy sitting near it looking apprehensive as Dr Mehmed's glance swept over him. 
 
 Fifteen years, when the problem student in question had bewilderingly become a maths teacher, her pupils lamented constantly on her teaching and mathematical ability. The end. 
 
 

