On Monday, we gathered around the teacher lunch table for our glorious 23-minute respite from jumping through hoops in the rat race that is our vocation. In our insular community, an tiny atoll of sanity in the midst of the freshman lunch sea, we baited each other as we fished for news of goings-on in other locales.
Mr. G sported a Red Ribbon Week bracelet.
"How did you get THAT a week early?" Said as if a man of his subject area would actually seek out such a bracelet to flaunt to the rest of us.
"It's Red Ribbon Week at Basementia. We all got 'em."
"Oh. What was the theme today for dress-up?"
"Oh, no. The Pony missed Hat Day! He will be upset. Last year, he wore his metal Roman helmet with the swinging ear flaps. I don't know how his neck supported it all day. What's tomorrow?"
Mr. G put down his hamburger. He looked at me with a glint in his eye. "Nerd day." He started to chuckle.
"Well. The Pony was ready for THAT today!"
The Pony's reputation precedes him.