Toxic

My practice from the Write Practice prompt: Write for five minutes, using the word “toxic” as frequently as you can. 

DSC09335, a photo by 3n on Flickr.

The green stuff oozed from underneath the principal's office door, and a cry came from the circle of teenagers.

"What do you think it is?" Said the black-haired Myra. "Some kind of toxic goo?"

"Don't be stupid." Tyler tried the door handle. "It's not locked! Let's see what he's been up to while we've been waiting out here for the past hour."

"Do you think it's safe?" But Lilly was too late--Tyler had already opened the door, scraping it against the thick green pool.

The sight that met their eyes was terrifying. Mr. Bertulli, collapsed in his swivel chair, phosphorescent drool crusted on his lips and a sickening dullness to his eyes. The girls screamed, Tyler took a half-step back, then slipped. The teenage boy fell smack into the goo, and immediately shrieked in pain. The toxic stuff was eating into his skin, turning it to an inflamed reddish scab, as the fabric of his hoodie disintegrated.

"Somebody call the police! There's been an accident!" Lilly was the only one who kept her head.

That was the beginning.