More Vitamin Mr. K

"I hate you for bombing my village in Croatia."

That's what Mr. K's cat photo said today. The cat was wearing a
kerchief on its head. It really did look like a Croatian woman. As
much as a cat-in-a-kerchief can. Mr. K didn't mention it when he
came to my classroom 1st Hour. He was there to torment 'Mum'.

Hey! Mum! Take out your wallet. Let's see it. Someone told me
you have a picture of a cat in there.

'Mum' took out his wallet. Slooowwwly. Because that's how he
does everything. Mr. K smirked at me, rounded up his audience
of Mr. S, and walked out. 'Mum' fished around in his wallet, and
threw two red Wal*Mart gift cards on my desk. DOGGONE! (To
quote Redneck Diva, who says it when somebody's dog dies.)
That boy had TWO pictures of cats on those gift cards! Who
knew? Mr. K, I woulda thunk, but at lunch he laughed and said:

You're kidding! He really had cat pictures?
Yeah. I saw them.
Ha ha! He must be a fag!
You should know.
I hate you for bombing my village in Croatia.
What's that? You're planning to vacation in Croatia?
You're really funny. Where do you find those?
Find what?
You know what I'm talking about.
Hey, do you think I should call 'Mum' over here?
What for?
He might sit on Mr. G's lap and feed him some of my grapes.
NOOOO!
He could feed him those spicy potato chunks.
That would do.
He can dip them in ketchup first.
And then lick his fingers before he picks up more.
NO!
The bell rang.
Better run down to the library to book that flight to Croatia.
Ha ha. You just wait.

So far, I still have the upper hand.

***************************************************
In other news, graduation is next Friday. At our school, the entire
faculty has to wear graduation robes, walk down the aisle ahead of
the seniors, and sit behind the podium. I used to hate it, but now I
kind of like it. It is closure for the year. I get to see the kids I've had
from years ago graduate. Quite an accomplishment, since they were
put in my class because it was believed they would drop out and not
graduate. Sometimes I get a little teary-eyed during the ceremony.
Don't tell anybody. I have an image to uphold.

Today I picked up our graduation robes. By 'picked up', I mean I
went into the principal's office and rummaged through five boxes
of crumpled plastic pouches until I found the ones labeled 'Mabel'
and 'Hillbilly Mom'. Because Mabel asked me to, and that's what
loyal friends do. I also had to find what Mabel calls 'hoodies',
which are the long hood things that drape around our necks with
the colors for our universities and our degrees on them.

My duty was to hang them up in my cabinet so they would not be
so wrinkled on graduation night when we wear them. One year,
Mr. S didn't unwrap his until time to put it on. He looked like a
Sharpei puppy. Only more wrinkly. And taller. Don't even think
about suggesting that we take them home and iron them. That
would mean going above and beyond the call of duty. In reality,
we'd prefer that duty meet us halfway.

I also checked out the zippers, since last year mine had a broken
one and had to be sent back. This year, it was hard to get started,
but it worked. It's a black nylon zipper, and quite cantankerous.
Mabel's has a gold-colored metal zipper. It works like a charm.
And another thing. Mine is a bit snug. Mabel's fits me with room
to spare. Except it comes to my knees, while mine comes to my
ankles. I'm a-thinkin' that my buddy Mabel might switch with me
as she has done in the past. Because that's what loyal friends do.

I hope our band gets it together by graduation night. Otherwise,
I will have to bring my magnificent cake-cutter that Mabel gave
me a few years back. It plays the Graduation March when you
push a button. It would be quite a graduation faux pas if I hit the
Happy Birthday, Wedding March, or For He's a Jolly Good
Fellow buttons by mistake.

Let's keep our fingers crossed for the band.