This morning, I arose at 4:50 and set about making The Pony's school lunch. Then I made myself a sandwich, because yesterday I ate the school lunch and seemed to have contracted a case of ptomaine poisoning by afternoon. Since the #1 son does not like school lunch on Fridays, I made him a sandwich.
Actually, I made him TWO sandwiches. Not counting the first one, because the white bread had just a single spot of mold on it. Which may have made #1 call me to see if it was still okay to eat, but I know better. So I used some wheat bread to make him a bologna sandwich. There were only two slices left, so I put them both on. Then I couldn't find the yellow mustard, so I squeezed on a few lines of spicy brown mustard. Fearing that he may not like that mustard, I made him an alternate sandwich. A Hawaiian bun with processed ham. You know, the stuff that's not really ham slices, but looks like a bunch of ham chunks pressed together and sliced very thin, with about a gallon of water added to hike up the price.
I was quite proud of my accomplishment. That lunch simply oozed motherly love. Before The Pony and I left, I told #1 that I made him a couple of sandwiches. I could tell by his grunt that he was pleased with my effort.
Around about 2nd hour, in comes #1 to ask for my signature and $8.00. He was carrying a sandwich. "Where did you get that?"
"Oh, this sandwich? My friend made it for me." (Hermione, of Halloween Harry Potter fame)
"Well, isn't that special? Which one are you having for lunch?"
"Probably hers. I told you I hate ham."
"Hers looks like ham."
"It's turkey."
"Try the bologna."
"I don't know. I might have both."
He stashed his newfound sandwich in the mini-fridge, on top of the two sandwiches I made for him. During 4th hour, he came in to get his lunch. I pointed out to my class that he was taking a sandwich somebody else gave him.
"Hey, Hermione made it for me."
"You don't know what she might have put in it. My sandwiches were made with a mother's love."
"Mother's love? Since when?"
"Since this morning, when I took the time to make you two sandwiches. It's motherly sandwich love."
"That's a good one. I'm eating Hermione's sandwich."
The class turned to see my reaction. "Somebody didn't raise that boy right."
"But Mrs. Hillbilly Mom...didn't YOU raise him?"
They're a little slow on the uptake sometimes. I've got to get my timing right before I take this show on the road.
3 comments:
Most of the time, drunk audience members are quicker on the uptake than school children.
That's because drunk audience members are not under the impression that a teacher is totally out of touch and also, that they just crawled out from under a rock.
So, I think you're safe ditching the teaching profession and headin' to Vegas.
I bet he evntually ate all 3 sandwiches, what with teen boys seeming to be bottomless pits. One day he will remember all those efforts of motherly love. When he has his own children.
Sioux,
And you know this due to your experience as a stand-up comedian...or a drunk audience member? In any case, I'm packin' up my Clampettmobile and setting out to seek my fortune in dive bars and open mic coffee houses. They'll allow me to pass a hat, won't they? The comic's version of an open guitar case.
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Kathy,
I, too, expected multiple sandwich consumption. But he just ate HER sandwich, and a big bag of Jalapeno Munchies.
I had some errands to run after school. I took the two motherly-love sandwiches with me. I didn't want to open my mini-fridge to that bologna smell on Monday.
As I drove along to the next town after the town where I dropped off The Pony to his grandma, I popped open a sandwich bag and took a bite. IT WAS HORRIBLE! The spicy mustard did not complement the wheat bread and bologna. I tossed it out the passenger window (because you can do that in Hillmomba) and fished around for the ham on Hawaiian bun. IT WAS EVEN MORE HORRIBLE! I gave it the window treatment as well.
But just between you and me...if #1 ever mentions a sandwich, those two motherly-lovers are going to be the best thing on sliced bread.
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