If speed dial had been invented while I was in junior high, Vice-Principal Smith would have had me locked in. He wasn't my greatest fan to begin with and on one occasion, didn't even wait for me to report to his office. He came to my house. He did this even though I had my own parking space outside his building. No driver's license. But I did have my own space. I also had my own chair outside his door. He thought about putting me on a regular schedule but figured that might look too much like harassment.
When he got to my house, I could tell he was troubled. It came with experience and in his case, I was mostly spot on. Any time that vein in his head started to resemble a well fed anaconda, he was getting a little unstable. Oh, joy.
He wanted to know why I wasn't at school on Monday. I didn't want to tell him but after some interrogation, finally admitted that I had spent the weekend playing Wicky-Wicky with a team of reptilian Phlune-Ingsters from the planet Racnad. It was the west-side team and we were going for the regional oompst. Of course, everybody knows that they don't allow protective pads in Racnadian Wicky-Wicky so I was injured in the second gerb.
By then, the anaconda looked like twins and Mr. Smith was about to expel me for life when fortunately, the Bolfunian Ambassador showed up at the door. I rushed to let him in because he can turn into a real Fronstanglin if he's kept waiting.
I'm serious. He actually turns into one. It's nasty. Kind of like a bin Laden stool sample.
Anyway, the Ambassador explained everything and I'm told the vice-principal is doing much better these days. He's fairly stable and anaconda-free as long as he stays on his medications. He may be released soon so, let's wish him the best.
For more, go to my site, diggerdan.the-joys-of-childhood.
My psychiatrist, who's really an Arwilian bus driver, says I'm carrying more crap than the Hudson River.
I hate doctors.