How To Earn Vacation Pay in 50 Words or Less

Don walked with a swagger I never quite understood. Although he was the liquor commissioner, I couldn’t quite figure out how that tied him into the big time political scene he claimed. Especially since, in his own bar, he would strain the fruit flies out of the sweet liquors instead of purchasing a new bottle and for God’s sake, keeping the damn lid. Something he and I went round and round about when I worked for him. He never fully appreciated my insight and I never fully appreciated his stupidity. Well, that’s not quite true…

Peeking Through The Walls of Jiggly’s Garage

In his younger days, Jiggly may have been a drinker but he sure as hell knew his way around an automobile. As a matter of fact, he was widely known for his mastery of rebuilt carburetors. With a large garage in back of his house, he ran a successful auto body shop where people came from all over hoping he’d work his magic and make their vehicle run smoothly once more. I recall going to “the garage” all the time with my father. It never took long for me to clue in on the conversation taking an “adult” turn and I’d head outside only to be licked to death by Jiggly’s Great Danes who stood taller than I.

Teachers, Students, and Parents

During my years of teaching and playing Principal I have had some very funny and sometimes strange verbalizations thrown my way.

If It’s Wet, Warm, And Not Yours, Don’t Touch It

He was larger than life. Actually they both were in their day – Jiggly and my father. They were life-long friends who shared years of support coupled with practical jokes. Jiggly’s nickname was acquired through his inability to stop drinking without suffering the DT’s (delirium tremens). It was fairly common for my father to be called in the middle of the night to retrieve Jiggly from some precarious situation and more times than not, that situation had to do with a fed-up wife.

Fishing With J and B

Memoirs of an Air Force Vet / Educator

First, a little background noise on JW and Bob. Jay was an ex Marine, although he claimed there was no such thing. Once a Marine, always a Marine. Bob was a former trooper with the 82nd Airborne . Since I was an Air Force Vet, it took a while for them to warm up to the new Air Force Wuss. However after a bit I was accepted as one of the Good Old Boys.

Friday afternoon as we were preparing to leave school, Bob says, “We are going to Black River fishing in the morning. If you think you can get you little pink ass out of bed by 0:400 hrs. We might pick you up.”

Damn Wonder He Didn’t Do a Lot More Than Jack Your Jaw

Along with this submission: “Some things I learned very early in my teaching efforts: DO NOT mention hunters, coal miners, rednecks, loose women, or the dietary habits of the local population. Until one learns the lay of the land, it is by far best to confine one’s comments the normal flora of bacteria found in pregnant aardvarks.” Words from a wise man who held the responsibility of molding my young mind years ago and helps warm my heart today. Thank you for everything, Sir. And thank you for this story!

My first teaching job was in a small Jr. high school in Iron County Missouri. It was there I first met JW and Bob. I like them both from the onset. Both were good teachers and maintained a semi professional decorum in their respective classrooms. JW more so than Bob, who was sometimes given to creative measures to maintain discipline. New carpet had recently been installed, the boys thought it great fun to scuffle their feet on the carpet and then touch one of the girls ears. Most other teachers would have given them a verbal warning for the first offence.  However, Bob instructed the next transgressor to march around the perimeter of the room six times and advance to the chalk board. Now learn over and touch your nose on the board. What followed was a three-inch blue flame shooting from the perpetrator’s nose. Problem solved.

“My Dad Would Be Sad If I Died” aka Dumbass in the Elevator

The page came through around 2:30 am on a Saturday morning. My favorite dispatcher was on, the lady with the nice soothing Southern voice. When she spoke into the mic, it whispered out the other end sounding like the gentle voice tempering the manic screams in Roger Water’s “Pros and Cons of Hitchhiking”. And even though she was ordering us to work (and we knew we must get going) there was that split second when it seemed as though she were reading a bedtime story. This particular tale she was relaying had to do with some poor sap stuck in an elevator between the 14th and 15th floor.

How Your Mind Works is God’s Great Mystery

“How your mind works is God’s great mystery”. Yes, this is how my friends speak to me. I’m not sure if they attempt to figure me out or they just simply humor me. Either way, they continue to hang around insistent on sharing their clever little anecdotes. I think it’s God’s subtle joke – how my mind works. I’m not consumed with if it humors others (although I’m always ready with a story) but it sure the hell keeps me tickled and/or frightened. Sometimes these little stories develop as a solo trip to nowhere and other times they take flight with faint encouragement of whomever is around. Last night a story was born from a look in his eyes and a simple explanation.

And He Claims It Wasn’t Him

Okay, so any of you who have read some of my stories published on the Dreamin’ Demon (or some of my posts for that matter) may be wondering just what my husband has to put up with. I’ll be the first to tell you it’s nothing in comparison. Yes, I may be rather outspoken, opinionated, and a little more bent than the normal person but I assure you – it’s only because I’ve had to become a resourceful person in order to keep my ass on this side of the steel bars. Nonetheless, we’ve managed to keep each other alive without any scars and I’ve collected memories that I knew would be committed to a story some day. Today seems like the perfect day to start!

For Bo – It Wasn’t Doomsday

I arrived at work one morning and learned I had inherited Bo. There must have been a combination of factors working against me and for him.  Given my fondness of him, it wasn’t likely I’d kill him and that’d make him work a little harder for me. Since all of  my departments had to make quota, I decided Bo’s first stop would be the laundry facility at the Plantation. The building was so close to being off the main compound and so far away from the guests, there was little risk of him getting caught doing nothing. But the biggest consideration was the two ladies that pretty much ran the joint: Miss Mackannie and Hannah.