SUNSETTER, MOONRISER: The Tragic & Explosive Death of Dean Rainard, Instalment I

SUNSETTER, MOONRISER: The Tragic & Explosive Death of Dean Rainard

Installment One: Starry Night


"Why do people like Van Gogh so much?" Dean Rainard asked his class, his brow furrowed cynically, his tone abrasive.
"What the hell makes Van Gogh so fucking important? Daisy! You like Van Gogh, right? What is so great about Van Gogh?"
Dean Rainard was an art historian. More specifically, a tenth grade art history teacher. Daisy Coalfield was one of his pupils.
"Yes, Mr. Rainard, I like Van Gogh," her voice quivered.
"And what is it that you like about him?"
"I dont know..." she said, "I guess I just like the way it looks."
"YOU JUST LIKE THE WAY IT LOOKS!? YOU JUST LIKE THE WAY IT LOOKS!?" Dean was yelling now at poor Daisy Coalfield. "Have you ever even heard of any other artist besides Van Gogh? Name one, just one..."
Daisy was stunned to the point of not being able to speak. The whole class was stunned to the point of not being able to speak. Even Mrs. Couch, the 11th grade, Intermediate English teacher in the classroom next door, who was on her planning period, was stunned to the point of not being able to speak. The walls of Eel River Athapaskan High School were not thick. Consequently, Mrs. Couch caught every word of Mr. Rainard's outburst. She had been eating a ham and cheese sandwich and upon hearing Dean Rainard's explosion, was so astonished that she inhaled part of her ham and cheese sandwich and died. She was found 45 minutes later by her boyfriend, the school janitor, Elvis Mann. But her death is not the subject of this story. Dean Rainard's death is the subject of this story.
Mr. Rainard looked at the slide of Starry Night which was being projected on the wall.
"Sunsetter, moonriser," he mumbled. He did not know why he mumbled this. Maybe it was because the image of the crescent moon in the painting was glowing like a sun, with a halo around it. Maybe it was simply a random firing of his brain mixed with the confusion and anger that was stirring inside it. He followed this with,
"VAN GOGH WAS A CRAZY PERSON."
You are a crazy person, thought Daisy Coalfield.
This was true. Dean Rainard was a crazy person. He had been a crazy person his entire life, but his craziness was the type of crazyness that one is able to hold inside himself for a period of time before being let go in an explosive and violent manner. Dean Rainard had held his craziness in his whole life until today. Today was the day he was letting it out.
"PEOPLE LIKE YOU ARE WHY I HAVE COME TO HATE ART! IGNORANT, STUPID, FUCKING TENTH GRADERS THAT THINK YOU KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT EVERYTHING! THE ONLY REASON YOU LIKE ART IS BECAUSE OF HOW IT LOOKS! WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT! YOU DONT GIVE A DAMN ABOUT THE SOCIOLOGICAL PERSPECTIVES OF IT, ALL YOU WANNA DO IS LOOK AT IT! LOOK AT IT AND ADMIRE HOW BEAUTIFUL IT IS AND WONDERFUL AND COLORFUL AND YOU KNOW WHAT?"
Then he said something that truly baffled his students. It would have truly baffled anyone who heard it.
"DID YOU KNOW IN EUROPE THEY DONT EVEN CALL IT A BATHROOM! THEY CALL IT A TOILET! THEY DONT TRY TO SUGARCOAT IT. THEY CALL IT HOW IT IS! A PLACE FOR SHITTING! YOU IGNORANT TENTH GRADE AMERICANS... YOU ARE ALL STUPID FUCKING AMERICANS!"
Dean Rainard then walked to the door, leaving behind his breifcase, and walked out of the classroom. Since Mrs. Couch had passed away, there was no one else in the vicinity of Dean Rainard's Tenth Grade art history class to hear and confront Mr. Rainard about the way he was speaking to his pupils. There was no one there to see him storm out of the class. The only witnesses were the students in his tenth grade art history class, who were now all crying or on the verge of tears.