Thursday, December 17, 2009

Don't be trite to an eighth grader

When I was in eighth grade my dog ran out the back door and made a mad dash into the street. Here, his head was run over by a truck.  The driver did not stop. He was dead. I picked him up and got blood on my favorite (cargo) pants.  I got to school a few minutes late. The principal said "Mr. M you gotta set your alarm earlier" or something very close to this while maintaining the banality. I said "Actually, my dog was killed and I wanted to change out of my bloody pants."  Shizzam.  It would be cool if he remembered that and stopped saying obvious things.

1 comment:

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