Because Mrs. Hillbilly Mom Is THAT Sweet!

Let the record show that Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's room has been invaded by an army on the march. An army of ants. Yesterday, they sent a squad on a reconnaissance mission. A squad which was summarily dispatched by Mrs. HM with a few spritzes of Fantastik.

This morning, Mrs. HM entered the building only to find Mrs. Not-A-Cook and the principal's wife headed to her room. Mrs. Not-A-Cook said, "I've just got to show her all these ants in your room." Hmpf. Tattletale! Treating my den of learning like a common tourist attraction, before I even had the chance to arrive and check out the occupation.

Millions of ants swarmed along the gray rubber baseboards at the juncture of slick, white-painted concrete block wall, and scuffed white-with-gray-speckles industrial tile floor. Okay. Maybe not millions. But hundreds. More than a reconnaissance squad. Mrs. Hillbilly Mom, it seems, had won the battle but lost the war.

Mr. Principal was driven up in a jeep, decked out in camouflage fatigues and a netted helmet walked down the hall to survey the invasion. He was shown to the source by Mrs. HM, who pointed out that the queue seemed to originate in the doorjamb of the storage room next door, from a crack down through the tile. He soon returned with a can of aerosol death, and snuffed the life from the invaders. Which left Mrs. HM with a long line of corpses, and a lungful of chemicals.

Funny how none of the pupils mentioned the smattering of insect corpses that led from the hall. across the front of the room under the whiteboard. to within six tiles of the wastebasket/pencil sharpener area. Unlike yesterday, when a handful of live ants going no farther than the doorjamb commanded their attention each class period.

Just goes to show that pupils are apparently more observant during a final exam than on an incentive day when a movie is on the agenda.