Manifestos and monkey bars

I guess I'm a teacher, 'cause I'm wandering around an elementary school like I've got some authority. A Muslim child is following me around, bugging me about the buggery going on in the minds of Americans. He's spouting some serious propaganda, but I can't recall any specific sentences (or words, even) coming from his diatribe. He's loud and obnoxious and clearly believes in everything he's saying, but I keep shooing him away.

"We have nothing to talk about," I say.

He continues to follow me until I try losing him by crossing a cavern by way of monkey bars. As soon as I turn my back to him and begin to cross, it occurs to me that he could easily shoot me in the back of the head.

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