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"
Don
’
t
be
an
ass
,
boy
!
There
’
s
no
such
name
!
"
"
Look
in
the
phone
book
,
"
Eric
said
.
"
You
’
ll
see
my
father
there
under
Ink
.
"
"
Very
well
,
then
,
"
the
Trunchbull
said
,
"
You
may
be
Ink
,
young
man
,
but
let
me
tell
you
something
.
You
’
re
not
indelible
.
I
’
ll
very
soon
rub
you
out
if
you
try
getting
clever
with
me
.
Spell
what
.
"
"
I
don
’
t
understand
,
"
Eric
said
.
"
What
do
you
want
me
to
spell
?
"
"
Spell
what
,
you
idiot
!
Spell
the
word
’
what
’
!
"
"
W
.
.
.
O
.
.
.
T
,
"
Eric
said
,
answering
too
quickly
.
There
was
a
nasty
silence
.
"
I
’
ll
give
you
one
more
chance
,
"
the
Trunchbull
said
,
not
moving
.
"
Ah
yes
,
I
know
,
"
Eric
said
.
"
It
’
s
got
an
H
in
it
.
W
.
.
.
H
.
.
.
O
.
.
.
T
.
It
’
s
easy
.
"
In
two
large
strides
the
Trunchbull
was
behind
Eric
’
s
desk
,
and
there
she
stood
,
a
pillar
of
doom
towering
over
the
helpless
boy
.
Eric
glanced
fearfully
back
over
his
shoulder
at
the
monster
.
"
I
was
right
,
wasn
’
t
I
?
"
he
murmured
nervously
.
"
You
were
wrong
!
"
the
Trunchbull
barked
.
"
In
fact
you
strike
me
as
the
sort
of
poisonous
little
pockmark
that
will
always
be
wrong
!
You
sit
wrong
!
You
look
wrong
!
You
speak
wrong
!
You
are
wrong
all
round
!
I
will
give
you
one
more
chance
to
be
right
!
Spell
’
what
’
!
"
