Clean thoughts

A standard fixture in every good science class is the long, black-topped experiment table. It gleams glossy, its days marked by on the barest of nicks; scars from the Battle of Education. It's badges are two, small, ringed holes.

Many assume that these holes are to support lab equipment during fits and bursts of hands-on education. But the Insidious Dr. Science(!) knew their true purpose, and he shared it with me in a temple lab in the ruins of a shrine dedicated to Robert Hooke.

They are finger locks. Teenagers are compelled to discover them through trial by fire.

CSG*: "Mr. Rover, come here!"
Me: "No. I am old. You come here, lazy youth."
CSG: "Mr. Rover, come here!"
Me: "Dare you ignore this lesson, child?! Fine. I shall approach that you may learn."
CSG: "I put my finger in this hole and I can't get it out! It's too tight! I'm stuck!"
Me: "Of course you are, my child. It was written in the Tome of Hypotheses. 'If the finger lock is present, the child must become ensnared.'"
CSG: "How do I get out?"
Me: "You must remain calm. Your mind must recede, allowing your body to slow for 3 days, growing ever slimmer, until it is freed. Or, dish soap could work."

This child owes me cookies for many reasons. Feel free to list them all.

*CSG = Catholic School Girl