Paybacks
George has a new hobby. Scaring people. He likes to dress in camo (including branches sticking out of his pockets) and jump out at you from behind a bush when you visit his house. He likes to hide in pantry closet and scare his grandparents into early graves. Great new hobby of his, this George.
Last night I stayed at school with a teacher friend, both of us preferring to face the dark, empty parking lot together at the end of the evening. I organized and cleaned and asked her a million questions. She commented at one point that there were kids outside in the parking lot, in the pitch dark. "I think they are on bikes or something," she said. "That's why I hate being here alone. It's creepy that they can see in the windows but I can't see out."
I agreed whole-heartedly, sharing about a time last year when I stayed late and completely freaked myself out walking out to my lone vehicle later that night.
I returned to my classroom and was sorting through papers on the counter in front of the wall of windows when all of a sudden George's face appeared right up against the outside glass. "Hey Aunt Fred!" he laughed.
He.scared.the.crap.out.of.me.
Birdy was out there, too, although just trying to get my attention, not trying to make me pee my pants and die of a heart-attack. I went around to the front of the building and let in Jules and Bear and the kids. They had been out for dinner and knew I was at school so they swung by to say hello and wreak havoc on my now-clean and organized classroom. George couldn't stop giggling about scaring me. I made him apologize to my friend for creeping her out as well. He still giggled.
Even when he left, after Birdy had hugged me several times promising her love for me (I assured her I didn't doubt her concern for me, but that George...) George hollered back down the hall just before exiting the building to giggle and say he loved me.
I immediately began to plot revenge. I've had a few ideas, but I'm going to wait for that lightbulb moment that says I've got the most epic plan ever.
All I can say is, George, paybacks are h-e-double hockey sticks. Look out.
Last night I stayed at school with a teacher friend, both of us preferring to face the dark, empty parking lot together at the end of the evening. I organized and cleaned and asked her a million questions. She commented at one point that there were kids outside in the parking lot, in the pitch dark. "I think they are on bikes or something," she said. "That's why I hate being here alone. It's creepy that they can see in the windows but I can't see out."
I agreed whole-heartedly, sharing about a time last year when I stayed late and completely freaked myself out walking out to my lone vehicle later that night.
I returned to my classroom and was sorting through papers on the counter in front of the wall of windows when all of a sudden George's face appeared right up against the outside glass. "Hey Aunt Fred!" he laughed.
He.scared.the.crap.out.of.me.
Birdy was out there, too, although just trying to get my attention, not trying to make me pee my pants and die of a heart-attack. I went around to the front of the building and let in Jules and Bear and the kids. They had been out for dinner and knew I was at school so they swung by to say hello and wreak havoc on my now-clean and organized classroom. George couldn't stop giggling about scaring me. I made him apologize to my friend for creeping her out as well. He still giggled.
Even when he left, after Birdy had hugged me several times promising her love for me (I assured her I didn't doubt her concern for me, but that George...) George hollered back down the hall just before exiting the building to giggle and say he loved me.
I immediately began to plot revenge. I've had a few ideas, but I'm going to wait for that lightbulb moment that says I've got the most epic plan ever.
All I can say is, George, paybacks are h-e-double hockey sticks. Look out.
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