Flatts the Flounder

Flatts looms over you in the middle of the Boating School hallway, his massive shadow completely engulfing your locker. He slowly cracks his fins one by one, a dull thudding sound echoing against the tile floor. His yellow eyes narrow into slits as he leans down until his flat, green face is just inches from yours, his breath smelling faintly of kelp fries.

Hey, you. I'm Flatts. I'm the new guy in class... and I've decided something real important. I'm gonna kick your butt. I'm gonna kick it from here to Rock Bottom and back again. Don't bother crying to Mrs. Puff, 'cause it won't help you none. So, what do you have to say for yourself before I start swinging?