Was Harry crazy or were Mz. Sweeny and the rest of the school officials the crazy ones? I knew he wasn’t crazy, and so will you too soon, but they wouldn’t and couldn’t (for that matter) listen to me. Harry would bellow at Dr. Drillateral:
“You think I’m crazy! I’m not crazy!” Dr. Drillateral would politely nod and respond
“Do you think that I think you’re crazy?” To which Harry would reply
“BLAHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Or something of the sort.
Therapy sessions had progressed to this point, and Dr. Drillateral felt as if there at a stalemate. When their sessions started, Dr. Drillateral couldn’t get Harry to talk at all. In fact, if Harry uttered anything at all, even if it wasn’t quite a word, Dr. Drillateral considered this therapeutic progress.
Any vocalization at all impressed Dr. Drillateral. If he had confided this in Mz. Sweeny, however, she would have asked “what do you mean by ‘vocalization?'” So he refrained from disclosing too much information to her about Harry’s therapeutic sessions. He simply told her that Harry was making wonderful progress. That was all she wanted to hear anyhow.
Terence Conrad was new to Rutherford Bacon. He had just moved to town and was about to start the fourth grade in a new school. Terrence was used to moving, and his mother had shown him that it was indeed possible to move more than ten times in one’s life. Since Terrence had only lived nine years on this planet, it evened out to about one move per year of life.
During the course of his travels, Terrence had had some strange encounters with regard to elementary education. In Terrence’s third grade class, his teacher, Ms. Hanover, kept two pet hamsters in the classroom. It seemed to Terrence that there was something a little off beat about Ms. Hanover, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
Terrence’s suspicions were confirmed one day when he was supposed to be out in the yard playing dodgeball. He was bored, and rather curious as to what it was that Ms. Hanover did while the others were out getting assaulted with a giant red blow up ball.
When Terrence quietly tip-toed up to the doorway of his third grade classroom, he was amazed by what he saw. Ms. Hanover was sitting on the beige carpet enclosed by bookshelves, her legs spread eagle revealing her underwear (for she was wearing a skirt) waiting for the innocent hamster to enter the abyss between her thighs.
Terrence was not at all interested as to what Ms. Hanover did with the rest of the 40 minute recess block, and he decided to leave.
Now he was beginning the fourth grade hamster free. In fact that was the first thing that he bothered to check in Urie’s classroom, whether or not Urie kept classroom pets. Fortunately Mr. Urie was allergic to hamsters, and pretty much any other animal with fur. And even if he wasn’t, Terrence was pretty sure that Urie looked far different from Ms. Hanover in a skirt.
This is part six of my short story, A Taste of Wool. I will be revealing a new part each Wednesday (even though today is clearly not Wednesday and this is late) as a part of Wool Wednesdays. To read Part 5 click here.