He Was Feeling A Little Bit Under The Table

Some people are their own worst enemy. Unless you consider The Pony, who doesn't really care about helping people, or what people think of him, so in effect, has no enemies.

Last Friday was the day for senior drape pictures. The senior pictures in a tux. Or what passes for a tux. The picture people bring that stuff along. The boys needed nothing. Just their regular school clothes. I told The Pony, "I don't know how they do this. You might have to put on a shirt that they give you. Are you okay with that?" I guess I pictured it as some kine of tuxedo t-shirt.


"Yeah. I guess. I don't know how they do it."

So off he went, was called out of class in the first group, it being divided alphabetically. He reported at lunch time that everything was fine. "All they did was make us drape this thing around us over our clothes. Duh. Senior DRAPES. You had me wondering what was going to happen."

Okay. So Mrs. Hillbilly Mom may not know about senior drapes meaning that the clothing is actually draped around you...and she may not have known until recently that England is an island (I still have trouble wrapping my head around that)...but she DOES know when someone goes out of someone's way to be strange. That's one psychic skill The Pony does not possess.

After school, The Pony was straightening up my classroom desks for me. He put away my colored pencils. He's a good egg like that. As I walked by, I saw a giant dust bunny on the back of his head.

"Wait! What's that on your head?"

"I don't know. There's something on my head?"

"Yes! And I don't want to touch it! Get me a paper towel out of the cabinet. The OTHER cabinet. I can't believe you! You just moved that roll of paper towels to put away the colored pencils. You should know where they were! This has only been my classroom for 15 years."

"I forgot. Here. What's on my head?"

"A giant dust bunny. Look at that! Was that on your drapes? Have you walked around all day with that on your head?"

"I don't know. It might be from when I was under the table in my college TV class."

"What? You were under the table? What's going on?"

"I get under there if I don't want people to bother me."

"Wait! Are people bothering you? That room needs to be supervised. It's like The Hunger Games! Are there kids in there that aren't even in the class?"

"Yesss. Sometimes. They come in to use the computers. Or sit around. At least I don't sit ON the tables!"

"Who's in there?"

"You don't need to know that."

"I need to know why you feel it necessary to crawl under a table."

"I don't crawl under a table. I SIT under a table. So people don't bother me when I have work to do. Otherewise, they are always asking me how to do something. And I don't have time if I have work to get done."

"Wouldn't it be easier to just stick a little sign on the side of your computer? That says, 'I'm busy now, can't help.'"

"Not really. I would have to make the sign."

"So it's easier to sit under a table?"

"It's not hurting anything."

I'm not sure that boy is ready to go off to college.