Cus, In The Faculty Women’s Restroom, With A Cell Phone

No. We’re not playing a game of Clue. There’s been no murder. We’re talking about the latest fright in Mrs. Hillbilly Mom’s life.

Perhaps you remember the Autumn (and Winter and Spring) of Cus. Here. Let me play a bit of the theme from The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly for you. There. Now is it coming back to you? Those battles waged between Cus and Mrs. Hillbilly Mom, over putting the caps on her personal writing implements, and using the bleach rag inside Mrs. HM’s mini fridge, and adjusting 25 chairs by six inches once a week to make Mrs. HM’s duty day even busier?

Although Cus won many battles, due mainly to the fact that Mrs. Hillbilly Mom was not present to protest…Mrs. HM won the war. In a manner of speaking. Because Cus up and went to work at Basementia, leaving Newmentia blissfully un-Cus-ed for the last two years.

Today we had an assembly. The first of the year. A grand occasion, one which begged the attendance of the entire population of Basementia. Of course it ended ten minutes before we had planned, because it started ten minutes before we had planned. Which left us with a sliver of 6^th hour to teach something to the students. Seven minutes is not quite enough time for even a pro like Mrs. Hillbilly Mom to engender knowledge through skulls stirred into a tizzy by some powerful weightlifter motivational speakers. But Mrs. HM was game to try. Or at least to keep order until time for the bell.

However…we were all caught off guard. One minute, the head weightlifter was speaking, and the next, it was Mr. Principal. Usually, he adds a few comments after an assembly. Ties in local connections with the subject. But not today! The first words out of his mouth were, “You can go on back to sixth hour.”

WHAT? Mrs. Hillbilly Mom had not even sneaked the restroom break she had built into this assembly schedule! So off she hobbled, like a glue-factory-rejected nag, in an attempt to beat the thoroughbreds who stable on her hall to the faculty women’s restroom. She had to get there first! Second wouldn’t do, because her class that just launched itself out of the bleachers like Usain Bolt out of the starting blocks at the Olympics, are not…how you say…ones to be left unattended.

I cut diagonally across the cafeteria, weaving through seven-chaired round tables (yes, Mabel, there have been cutbacks) and six-chaired hexagonal tables and eight-chaired rectangular tables. Ah! First one into the teacher workroom! Wait. What’s that? Somebody talking? Faint. They might be around the corner, by the refrigerator! I had to be first in the faculty women’s restroom. I tried the door handle. Pushed gently down on the lever. That’s because if you try to barge right in, you will likely smack your face on the heavy wooden door, what with it always being occupied and locked. So I gently pushed down. I hate it when people (you know who you are…Arch Nemesis…Mrs. Not-A-Cook!) rattle that door lever while I’m smugly ensconced on the throne.

Yes, I gently pushed down on that door handle, and the door opened. Almost. It went halfway, then caught up. Not like on the stubby doorstop inside, to prop it open when mopping between classes, thus disabling our drop station during the crucial four minutes. This was something else holding it up.

IT WAS CUS!

CUS! Standing in the women’s faculty restroom, behind the inward-opening door, not pooping or peeing, not washing hands or primping, not looking for a bat in the belfry, not checking for a visible thong line. Standing behind the door! Kind of like hiding, to talk on the phone.

And can you believe that Cus looked at me like I was the one in the wrong? Like I had barged in and interrupted! Like I was psychic. Like I could see through heavy wooden doors. Sweet Gummi Mary! Lock the freakin’ door if you want privacy! A faculty women's restroom is not a phone booth.

“Oh. I have to go to the bathroom. He just let all the kids out of the assembly, and they’re on their way.”

Well. Cus looked as panicked as Mrs. Hillbilly Mom.

It’s safe to say that Cus was supposed to be out back with the bus to take Basementia students back to Basementia in time for final dismissal. Cus took off out of that faculty women's restroom like a freshman out of Mrs. HM's room when the lunch bell rings.

Ah. Mission accomplished.

First one in the FWR, with the ousting of Cus a feather in my cap.