Alright, I've got a good one. I'm homeschooled now, but I used to go to a private school. Mr. G was my old math teacher.
So five years before my freshman year, there was a student who filled Mr. G's room with oranges. In the ceiling. In desks. Cabinets. Everywhere. Over the years, Mr. G has gotten rid of most of the oranges. But occasionally, one crops up. So it was a boring day in Algebra 1. My classmate found an orange in the podium, five years old at that point. It was hard as a rock and quite frankly an abomination. Now, none of us wanted to do homework that day, so we started talking about the orange. "Mr. G," she asked, "what do you think it looks like inside?"
"Let's find out!" Mr. G said.
"I'll get a knife from the cafeteria." Another classmate volunteered. Mr. G told him no. "We need something stronger." And I fricking. Kid. You. Not. This old dude pulls a fricking AXE out of his desk drawer. Not a small one. A full sized axe out of his DESK DRAWER. He raises it up, and smashes it down on the orange. Moldy orange goes everywhere. The walls. The desk. The ceiling. First classmate is covered in it.
We all just stare at it (and smell the truly bizarre smell of mold and citrus) and then just. Mr. G looks sadly, and in a very small voice, goes "oh. it made a mess..."
He puts away the axe and goes back to the lesson. Like nothing happened.