A Feeble Attempt by Mr. K
"Tess guards the entrance to the underworld...
and you are the next to go down."
Today's K-Cat message, courtesy of Hillbilly Mom. The picture
was a cat crouching behind the base of a toilet.
I hurriedly shoved it into Mr. K's mailbox, then started to work
on my 'project'. I made Ms. S be my lookout, as she was
conveniently running copies.
Out of my pocket, I took a piece of yellow CAUTION tape
that I had snipped from the back door on my way into the
building. It had been dangling there for...oh...I don't know...
3 MONTHS. A square of concrete had been replaced, and
nobody bothered to remove the tape once the concrete was
dry. I know that was 'winter'. We had temps in the 70s and
80s back in the winter. Plenty warm enough to pour concrete.
Anyhoo, I taped that yellow tape across the front of my mailbox
cubby. I added a sign and a warning. Silly me! I thought that
would keep out Mr. K. Apparently, Mr. K is a scofflaw, just
like Seinfeld's NEWMAN with his parking tickets--except
Mr. K crosses CSI lines.
When I returned to the teachers' workroom in the middle of
2nd Hour, I found the "Do Not Cross" sign had been violated!
It was turned around, with 'MEOW' written on the back. And
in my mailbox was this:
Mom,
Thank you for raising me
to be the delightful young
man I am today!
Before I Was Myself, You
Made Me, Me
Yeah. That's his corny title.
Mr. K is some kind of poet.
What kind, I don't know.
Also notice the scratching
cat paws in the upper left.
Here's the poem, in all its
gory glory.
Before I was myself, you made me, me.
With love and patience, discipline and tears,
Then bit by bit stepped back to set me free.
Allowing me to sail upon my sea,
Though well within the headlands of your fears.
Before I was myself you made me, me.
With dreams enough of what I was to be
And hopes that would be sculpted by the years,
Then bit by bit stepped back to set me free.
Relinquishing your powers gradually
To let me shape myself among my peers.
Before I was myself you made me, me.
And being good and wise, you gracefully
As dancers when the last sweet cadence nears
Bit by bit stepped back to set me free.
For love inspires learning naturally:
The mind assents to what the heart reveres.
And so it was through love you made me, me
By slowly stepping back to set me free.
Poor Mr. K. He is so backwards at this cat-war. First, a child's
coloring-book drawing. Now this. He is like the Flintstones of
the computer-age pranking world. I am not sure, but I have a
sneaking suspicion that he is using a dot-matrix printer for this
contraband.
At lunch today, Mr. K asked if 'Mum' was all fired up during
my class.
No. He asked to use a calculator while I was at the computer
showing them their grades. When I went back to my desk, he
was reading my Ripley's Believe It Or Not book of freaks.
Oh. Reading about himself, you mean?
I've made him what he is today.
Hey! What's with the crime scene?
You tell me. Apparently, it's not a deterrent.
Talk turned to Ms. F, who retired last year. Mr. G misses her.
Yeah, she used to iron my graduation robe for me. I guess that's
not happenin' this year.
'Mum' lives just down the road. I bet he has an iron.
He irons his cats with it.
Hey, do you have any kids you don't want this afternoon?
All of them. Why?
Because they are the next visitors to the underworld.
He does not scare me, this Mr. K.
and you are the next to go down."
Today's K-Cat message, courtesy of Hillbilly Mom. The picture
was a cat crouching behind the base of a toilet.
I hurriedly shoved it into Mr. K's mailbox, then started to work
on my 'project'. I made Ms. S be my lookout, as she was
conveniently running copies.
Out of my pocket, I took a piece of yellow CAUTION tape
that I had snipped from the back door on my way into the
building. It had been dangling there for...oh...I don't know...
3 MONTHS. A square of concrete had been replaced, and
nobody bothered to remove the tape once the concrete was
dry. I know that was 'winter'. We had temps in the 70s and
80s back in the winter. Plenty warm enough to pour concrete.
Anyhoo, I taped that yellow tape across the front of my mailbox
cubby. I added a sign and a warning. Silly me! I thought that
would keep out Mr. K. Apparently, Mr. K is a scofflaw, just
like Seinfeld's NEWMAN with his parking tickets--except
Mr. K crosses CSI lines.
When I returned to the teachers' workroom in the middle of
2nd Hour, I found the "Do Not Cross" sign had been violated!
It was turned around, with 'MEOW' written on the back. And
in my mailbox was this:
Mom,Thank you for raising me
to be the delightful young
man I am today!
Before I Was Myself, You
Made Me, Me
Yeah. That's his corny title.
Mr. K is some kind of poet.
What kind, I don't know.
Also notice the scratching
cat paws in the upper left.
Here's the poem, in all its
gory glory.
Before I was myself, you made me, me.
With love and patience, discipline and tears,
Then bit by bit stepped back to set me free.
Allowing me to sail upon my sea,
Though well within the headlands of your fears.
Before I was myself you made me, me.
With dreams enough of what I was to be
And hopes that would be sculpted by the years,
Then bit by bit stepped back to set me free.
Relinquishing your powers gradually
To let me shape myself among my peers.
Before I was myself you made me, me.
And being good and wise, you gracefully
As dancers when the last sweet cadence nears
Bit by bit stepped back to set me free.
For love inspires learning naturally:
The mind assents to what the heart reveres.
And so it was through love you made me, me
By slowly stepping back to set me free.
Poor Mr. K. He is so backwards at this cat-war. First, a child's
coloring-book drawing. Now this. He is like the Flintstones of
the computer-age pranking world. I am not sure, but I have a
sneaking suspicion that he is using a dot-matrix printer for this
contraband.
At lunch today, Mr. K asked if 'Mum' was all fired up during
my class.
No. He asked to use a calculator while I was at the computer
showing them their grades. When I went back to my desk, he
was reading my Ripley's Believe It Or Not book of freaks.
Oh. Reading about himself, you mean?
I've made him what he is today.
Hey! What's with the crime scene?
You tell me. Apparently, it's not a deterrent.
Talk turned to Ms. F, who retired last year. Mr. G misses her.
Yeah, she used to iron my graduation robe for me. I guess that's
not happenin' this year.
'Mum' lives just down the road. I bet he has an iron.
He irons his cats with it.
Hey, do you have any kids you don't want this afternoon?
All of them. Why?
Because they are the next visitors to the underworld.
He does not scare me, this Mr. K.
posted by Hillbilly Mom at 5:22 PM
4 Comments:
If you'd like a real cat to put in Mr. K's box I now have 14 of them residing at my house. I'll deliver them to you, free of charge. Really.
Oh for the love of Gummy Mary, PLEASE????
Diva,
Umm...I think we have laws about that sort of thing here in Missouri. One minute you're planning on transporting pussy across the state line, the next minute you're sitting in the county jail next to Aunt Coon, swappin' meth recipes. And maybe some saliva, if Aunt Coon swings that way.
Invoking the name of the Blessed Gummi Mary will not garnish favor with me, Dear Diva. Don't MAKE me write a post about C H I C K E N S.
There is now coffee splattered all over my computer monitor from the laughter you have invoked.
And if Aunt Coon swings that way...well, maybe she's just looking for some "comfort".
Eek! I thought we were friends, Hillbilly Mom! Now I'm not so sure if you're threatening me with poultry posts. Need I bring Dolly into this?
Diva, Diva, Diva,
Hey! The actual DoNot with the Aunt Coon is the girl who reported those 'comforting' girls to me.
Let's not be hasty, Dear Diva. I am setting down my chicken. No need to involve my sweet, sweet, Dolly in this little matter.
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