Today is the birthday of The Pony.
The birthdays run in the Newmentia announcements each day. The announcements that are read by every 2nd-Hour teacher. Out loud. To their students.
Mr. Kitchen Sink informed me at lunch that he had wished The Pony a happy birthday 3rd Hour. And when students clamored to sing Happy Birthday to him, Mr. Kitchen Sink vetoed the idea. "No need to make the boy more embarrassed than he already is."
I did not know until after school that Ms. Hall End read the announcements 2nd Hour, and let the class sing Happy Birthday to The Pony. Who ducked his head, and involuntarily pumped extra blood to his ears.
Mrs. NotACook casually mentioned that she had seen The Pony in the hall, and told him, "Happy Birthday." Furthermore, she relayed, "When I said that to him, he looked at me like I had three eyes."
Just yesterday, The Pony sneezed during my class. A friend in the back row said, "God bless you. Was that you, Pony? Did you just sneeze?" The Pony shook his head. Denied it. "Oh, of course not. A sneeze is a sign of weakness! Pony would never allow myself to sneeze!"
The Pony. An enigma wrapped in a riddle locked up in a conundrum. Some see him as the freshman Chuck Norris. Others as a simple odd duck.
Happy birthday, my little Pony! Here's to many more years of kicking up your heels.