Free The Crimes and Punishments of Miss Payne by Barry Jonsberg

That's only the girls, of course. The boys will, without exception, plan to write
dairy
entries, in which cows, milk and the churning of butter figure prominently. I've a theory about boys and spelling. I think that most of them are born with only half a brian!
    And I know the answer to why we are subjected to the mind-numbing routine of diary entries. Laziness. That's what it is. Sheer laziness. And that's something else. Use your imagination, class. I want fresh ideas and fresh expression. Now, what can I give them to do? I know, I'll trot out that old standby, the diary entry. Double standards. It makes my blood boil.
    I'll tell you another thing. Sometimes—no, probably most times—the diary entry is completely inappropriate. I remember last year our English teacher did
Macbeth
with us. Now, I don't know if you know the play but it has this woman, Lady Macbeth, and is she a real cow? This woman is completely evil. She pushes her husband into murdering the king just because she wants to be queen. Initially, he agrees, but later when he says he doesn't think he can do it, she tells him that she would have plucked her own baby from her breast and beaten its brains out if she had sworn to do it. You know, that nothingwould stop her from getting what she wants, even if it meant killing her own baby in cold blood. And you believe her! She is one cold, unfeeling woman. So her husband murders the king and gets the crown and she becomes queen and all. And it's very bloody. Our teacher told us to write a diary entry from the viewpoint of Lady Macbeth after the murder of the old king, who was called Duncan. Can you believe that? This is Shakespeare we are talking about here. High tragedy. And we are expected to imagine that in the middle of all the bloodshed, Lady Macbeth is getting out her Kmart diary every night and jotting a few things down! So this is what I wrote.
    Friday, 11:30 p.m.
Dear Diary,
It's been a few nights since I've written to you. I hope I'm not getting lax, but I've been pretty busy recently, what with entertaining the King of Scotland and his three thousand hangers-on. I was all for ordering takeaway, but Macbeth wouldn't have it. He reckons the local Thai restaurant is overpriced, and he's been wary of the pizza place ever since he had the seafood thick crust and got crook with food poisoning. So I was up to my elbows in pie floaters for everyone, while Macbeth and old Duncan were watching Fox Sports and getting a few Buds down them. Typical bloody men! Anyway, after all that, Macbeth tells me he doesn't want to murder Duncan after all. He's changed his mind! I tell you, I gave him heaps. I was ropeable. I said, “Listen here, matey, it's just like when youwere supposed to be putting up the shade cloth over the pool. That took five bloody months. No way, mate. Get in there and kill the old bastard right now or you can forget all about going to the V8 Supercars next week!” “Aw, jeez, Lady Mac,” he said. “Give me a break, willyer?” To cut a long story short, he does it. Not without a lot ofwhingeing and whining, mind. And there is, like, loads of blood all over the good sheets. Took me hours to get the stains out. Forget that old stuff about salt being the business for stains. Might work for wine, but gobs of blood is a different matter. By the time I finished, I was completely tuckered. So I'll make this short. To be honest, after the day I've had, I just fancy a cup of hot chocolate and a quick read of
Woman's Day.
I'll write again tomorrow, I swear.
    I was expecting a detention for that. I
wanted
a detention! But do you know what happened? I got a big check and a B grade. She hadn't even read it. Sometimes teachers make me sick.
    Look, sorry about all this. I know I'm rambling. It's just that I had a hard time after Rachael Smith had finished spreading the hot news about my supposed love affair with the Pitbull. Not content with telling the entire school within twenty-five minutes—not a bad