Times are so dire that I am jacking up the pre-order prices on my handbaskets. It's a seller's market, you know. I will be one of the few handbasket suppliers in the greater midwest. I might be the ONLY handbasket supplier in the midwest. So I can charge a Hillmomban Emperor's ransom for my product. Supply and demand, baby! Supply and demand. I really need to get to work on my proposed factory.
Today was our first regular school day back to work, kids and all, since our most recent icing and snowing. What fresh not-heaven awaited me this morning, lazy from four days lolling about my dark basement lair without a care in the world? Let us count the unpleasantries.
1. Twenty minutes of revolving door action upon arrival, as my diligent do-gooders arrived one by one, to deposit their projects (due today) in my classroom.
2. A rousing morning duty of 30 minutes in a hallway smelling of dead mice. Sure, some tried to blame sluggish pipes after a four-day stagnation. I know pipe stagnation. Pipe stagnation is my enemy. That, people, was no pipe stagnation. Even my colleague named for two local dairy bars, coach of a sport in which one might wear plaid or knickers, and count the strokes of one's wood, agreed. Dead mouse. Exactly. Funny how the lady of a thousand cats (whom she supplies ice water in the summer) did not recognize it. Something's fishy with her freeloading cats if they're not earning their ice water.
3. Excuses galore. Didn't know presentations were due, despite being told twice a week for the last six weeks. Need more time, even though everybody else had the same six weeks, and these three extra days because of snow. Didn't have board, although The Devil's Playground has had them on the shelves for six weeks. Printer quit working last night, so of course the hands could not write either. Partner is locked up, but Mrs. Hillbilly Mom let people choose their own partners. Won't be here tomorrow to present as scheduled because picking up driver's exam booklet, and nobody, ever, in the history of the world, has even sent somebody else to pick up a booklet, or gone later in the day, after the presentation. Can't present, partner is absent, and the other two of us are not ready...the ONLY three-partner group permitted, with less work than everybody else, who were warned, twice a week, with everybody else, that if one partner is gone, the one here will present alone, and the absent one will present alone upon return.
4. NEW STUDENT! With TRANSFER GRADES to be entered.
5. Lunch duty.
6. The magnificent disappearing student, there all day long, missing from my class, there after my class. The poster student for hourly attendance. Surprisingly scheduled to present today!
7. Duty after school in the parking lot.
8. Hanging around to pick up The Pony from his SmartyPants competition at 6:45 p.m.
9. The shocking revelation that The Pony must be at Newmentia before 6:45 a.m. Friday to depart for the W.Y.S.E. competition in the big city.
10. The misfiring of my wooden doorstop, which I whip with the sole of my shoe from doorjamb to hallway, sliding perfectly under the bottom edge of my wooden portal, every hour on the hour, to the amazement and admiration of my charges, a misfiring of such epic proportions that it hit the concrete-block wall behind the door, bounced out into the entryway, and caused a near medical emergency due to three falling jaws.
SWEET GUMMI MARY! If the world was ever in need of handbaskets, it is the here and now. Or, if you don't read this until Friday or later...the there and then.
I simply MUST start breaking ground on my proposed handbasket factoy.
2 comments:
Some call me 666. Linda's husband, in fact, says that is my name.
Since that is the case, could I work at your handbasket factory? (I think I'm management material, at least...)
Sioux,
Some folks calls it a sling blade. I calls it a kaiser blade. Mmm hmm.
Can you handle one? If so, perhaps we can find room for you in our workforce. The lunchroom will be serving french fried potaters, with mustard, and biscuits, too.
Your duties will include making supply runs to The Devil's Playground. You should feel right at home. I think we'll get you a name tag that says, "Trixie." That stands for Tri-Sixies.
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