Sometimes I wonder what will become of The Pony. Such a steel-trap mind. Quite suited for government work. So literal. So detail-oriented. So sneaky. Yet so transparent.
Perhaps you recall the Newmentia Christmas door decorating contest I wrote of yesterday. Perhaps. Unless you are Farmer H, and can't remember things from one day to the next. The judging, as you but not Farmer H will recall, was to be Wednesday, after 5th Hour. Decorating could happen any time between Monday morning and then, the only stipulations being that participation was limited to the pupils enrolled in the 5th Hour class, and that the doors were not to be hung before Wednesday 5th Hour.
Monday afternoon, four hours after throwing down the gauntlet for the Newmentia Lunch Time Think Tank, I locked up my door and headed down the hall. The Pony pranced a few steps ahead. Even loaded down with my education accouterments, he can still out-stroll Mrs. Hillbilly Mom.
"Oops! I'm taking a picture of this." The Pony camera-ed up his cell phone, and snapped a photo of EbonyLocks's door. "That's a violation. I'm sending it to Ms. Pauper. They need to be disqualified."
Which I suppose they were. Because the rest of the two days, the paper-wrapped door bore no further filigree. Only the words "Merry Christmas" written in marker near the top. Such a shame, a lackluster entry such as that from the most creative class amongst us.
Cheaters gonna cheat. Tattlers gonna tattle. Pony's gonna Pone.