I Think This Says it all...

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Quite possibly one of my all-time favorite movies. So, what is YOUR favorite part? I have so many that I couldn't possibly list them all; however, these are two interchanges I absolutely love…

Bob: There are two types of people in this world: Those who like Neil Diamond, and those who don't. My ex-wife loves him.

Dr. Leo Marvin: [pause] I see. So, what you're saying is that even though you are an almost-paralyzed, multiphobic personality who is in a constant state of panic, your wife did not leave you, you left her because she... liked Neil Diamond?

Siggy: I mean, my Dad just dropped me in the water, without warning me first. I mean, I nearly drowned! My whole life flashed before my eyes!

Bob: Wow, you're lucky you're only twelve.

Siggy: It was still grim.

So Yeah, it was Pretty Gross...

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What is it that could inspire such a feeling of disgust? Head over to 4P to discover the secret. You know, it makes me wonder…just what is your worst experience?

Image pilfered from http://www.worth1000.com...obviously.

10:42 P.M.

Pin It I lie here awake tonight still. Sleep just won’t come and I find myself reaching for my laptop to write about it. That should give you an idea of just what an obsessed blogger I really am.

Pitiful.

I scrolled through playlist after playlist on my iPod, searching for something to induce slumber, but I came up with nothing. After trying two different audio books, I switched to decades playlists.

Nothing still.

Song after song came on which didn’t lull me to sleep, but rather made me think even more; my mind careening through dozens of things over which I have absolutely no control. I find this increasingly distressing since I retired to bed well over an hour ago, and I am still wide-awake.

A certain song came on which made me think of a longtime friend who used to live across the street; if I saw her light on, I’d call—and vice-versa. We’d have long discussions into the night until we’d both felt ready to truly retire for the evening.

We’ve both moved to different places since those days, and the luxury of simply looking out the window to see if the other was sleepless is now gone. Sometimes I miss the fact that it was all that easy.

I also hate the fact that tomorrow morning I’ll wake up, and instead of feeling refreshed and invigorated; I’ll be sluggish from the lack of hours I had to rest.

Okay, shutting up…

Washington, in the Pines

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My soul seems to be longing for somewhere I have not been in a long time. I say this because I went there in my dreams last night. Strange how the mind can do that—to cavort us off to an entirely different place while our body lies dormant, nestled safe under warm covers.

But in dreams, there are no limitations.

A new song I’d recently heard played—it seems as from heaven itself—as I drove along the familial dusty roads to a place that was entirely new to me. I found myself moving far off into the Huckleberry Mountains, where the pine trees circled me in all directions like giant, hushed sentinels, watching.

I needed to get away for a while, to be away from the hustle and bustle of everyday living. I just need a few moments alone.

And so I took them.

I breathed in scent of pitch, the bittersweet, sticky smell that coats your nostrils in an aroma that seems to whisper ‘home.’ I sat and listened to the sound of the wind as it passed through the needles the trees, a wispy, airy melody I remembered with fondness.

I found myself trudging the winding dirt roads of my childhood. Memories of my dad. Memories of my mom.

I awoke.

I laid silently in the early-morning darkness, allowing the images to burn themselves into my retinas, to seep in the shadowy pockets of my soul.

It is now 5:30 a.m., and I find myself longing to return.

Moments with Joey – Twisted Ankles, Chainsaws, and Homework (Oh, my)

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SCENE 1, INTERIOR. AFTERNOON, HALLWAY. The students have just come into the school from recess, and they are taking a 3-minute break. As they all make their way down the hallway, the teacher turns to walk to the office to deliver a message. He notices a boy who’s just limped up to him with a grimace on his face.

JOEY: Mr. Z?

TEACHER: What’s up, Joey?

[The boy limps a step toward the teacher and screws up his face in pain].

JOEY: I was playing ball outside and I hurt my ankle.

TEACHER: How bad do you think it is?

JOEY: Pretty bad [grimace]. I was wondering if I could go to the office.

[The teacher looks at the boy for a few moments and then grins].

TEACHER: Why go to the office? I could take care of the problem right here; you know that I have scissors in the classroom…

[The boy glances down at his ankle and then looks back at his teacher].

JOEY: Scissors won’t cut through the bone. I think I’d need a chainsaw. That’s why I have to go to the office.

TEACHER: [Trying to mask a smile]. The office has a chainsaw?

JOEY: Yeah, to take care of the hurt kids. I’ve seen ‘em using it before.”

TEACHER: Well, I’m heading to the office right now; why don’t you come along?

SCENE 2, INTERIOR. AFTERNOON, OFFICE. The boy walks into the office next to the teacher with only an occasional limp. As the secretary hangs up the phone and looks up at them, the boy’s expression contorts into one of immense pain.

SECRETARY: What can I do for you, Mr. Z?

TEACHER: Well, Joey here says he hurt his ankle and needs some first aid. He also told me that you guys have a chainsaw to take care of student injuries. I told him I could just use scissors, but he was adamant that the chainsaw would work better.

SECRETARY: [playing along]. As a matter of fact, we do have a chainsaw. I keep it right here under my desk.

[The secretary points to the cupboard space beneath her laptop. Another teacher passing passing through the office pauses after overhearing the conversation].

PASSING TEACHER: You’d better put a tarp on the floor if you use the chainsaw or you’ll stain the carpet.

[The boy looks expectantly at the secretary who then shakes her head].

SECRETARY: Oh, you know what? We can’t use the chainsaw today…it doesn’t start very easily. I don’t think we’d be able to get it running.

[The boy and his teacher look at each other].

TEACHER: Well, what're we going to do now, Joey?

[The boy acts like he’s thinking deeply for a few moments].

JOEY: Maybe we could just get some ice instead.

TEACHER: I guess that would be a better idea wouldn’t it?

SECRETARY: Joey, I’m sorry but the ice machine is broken, remember? I told you that the other day when you came in for ice. [pause] But I’ll bet we could get you a towel soaked in cold water.

JOEY: [Disappointed]. Oh.

TEACHER: Tell you what, Joey. I’ll check my heart and see if I’ve got any ice left in there.

JOEY: But it would be black; it’d probably kill me if I used it.

[The teacher pauses, in thought].

TEACHER: Well, look at the bright side, if you died, then I could have all your stuff.

JOEY: I’ll tell you what, Mr. Z. If I die, you can have everything in my desk, including my homework.

SCENE 3 INTERIOR. AFTERNOON, CLASSROOM. The teacher is doing a comprehension activity with the class; the students are scanning a text and writing connections they've made. The door opens and the boy walks in, he is not limping at all at first, but when the teacher looks at him, the boy starts a slow, laborious movement across the room to his desk. He sits and looks at the worksheet awaiting him. He then sneaks a peek in his desk. His expression falls. He raises his hand and waits for the teacher. The teacher walks to his desk.

JOEY: [Whispered]. Mr. Z, you didn’t do my homework.

TEACHER: [Whispered]. Well, you didn’t die either now, did you?

[Pause]

JOEY: [Whispered]. No, I guess I didn’t…bummer.

Fade to black.

Two, Please...

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Macy’s grocery store has wonderful soft-serve ice cream.

Really.

The great thing is, it is unbelievably cheap for what they give you; $ .84 for a medium which is about 4 inches over the cone.

Like I said, it’s a deal.

I started doing something awhile back that I wanted to share. I share this not as a way of boasting. Please don’t think that I’m boasting, because I’m not. I’m sharing this with you as a challenge.

Whenever I go to Macey's, I always purchase one or two medium cones. The gal behind the counter will then inquire, “What flavor would you like?”

“Nothing for now,” I respond.

This nearly always brings a look of confusion from the lady on duty unless unless she’d been working on a time I’d come before and remembers me. I then go on to explain:

“I’d like you to save these cones until somebody comes along who looks like they really need one. I'd like you to give one to them and say, ‘somebody bought you an ice cream cone because it looks like you needed it’ and then let them pick the flavor they'd like.”

This always brings a smile from the lady on duty and something to the effect of, “Now that is sooooooo cool!”

I do this not to boast, I do it not to brag, but in regard to a challenge...(don't you just hate this blog? I'm always asking you to do something). The next time you're in line at a drive-thru, at the counter at a restaurant, or wherever else, buy a little pick-me-up for somebody else.

It only costs me eighty-four cents to make someone else’s day.

Isn’t a stranger’s day worth 84 cents?

Yeah, that’s what I thought too.

Image stolen from: http://posterous.com/ - Mostly because I was too lazy to go and take one myself...

The Crazy Lady

Pin It I walked toward the store entrance, doing the pocket check along the way to ensure that I had both my wallet and cell phone.

Affirmative—on both counts.

As I neared the door, I noticed the woman sitting on the small bundles of overpriced firewood in front of the large picture windows. She was wearing a t-shirt and a pair of flannel pajama bottoms.

No big deal. Not really. After all, this is a college town. Only this woman was a bit too advanced in years to be attending college, and most certainly too well along in years to be sporting pajama bottoms in public on such a late afternoon.

As I came closer, I noticed that she was talking to herself. Not just mutterings, but she appeared to be having an entire conversation with a person who was simply not there.

The lady was crazy.

Then it struck me, she must have been using a wireless Bluetooth for her phone…only there wasn’t one in her ear at all. I realized that this little piece of technology must have been in her other ear, the one that I couldn’t see from my vantage point.

I walked into the store, making the decision that I would never use my wireless earpiece again. The woman had been rambling on, staring blankly across the parking lot, making it look like she was having a complete conversation with herself.

I didn’t want anyone to ever think that of me when I was on the phone.

I purchased the necessities, gathered up my environmentally-unfriendly bags from the checkstand, and glanced out the large windows where the very same woman was still perched on the firewood and yakking away.

There was no earpiece in the other ear either.

So, she really was crazy.

I need to stop giving crazy people the benefit of the doubt…and maybe I’ll still use my earpiece after all.

Surprises

Pin It There are moments and people that surprise us—in good way. Want to read about one of these moments that happened to me?

Head over to Four Perspectives to check it out; I wouldn’t be surprised if you did…

98.6% Back

Pin It The sound of hard plastic striking pavement alerted me to the fact; something had fallen from my computer bag while I was taking items from my car. I glanced down about my feet and at once noticed my Western Digital Notebook Drive lying on the spidery asphalt.

For just a moment, frustration reared its ugly head, but upon inspecting the drive, all appeared to be in good order. All was well, and all was good. I slipped the drive back into my computer bag—a little deeper than it had been—and headed off to start another day at work.

It was some hours later that evening that I found myself at home, indulging in a well-deserved dinner of spareribs and scones. I plugged in said drive to access a few photos I needed for a project. This was the best drive to use as it had every photo I’d ever taken on it. I moved to the microwave to retrieve my dinner and sat down at my computer. I glanced at the screen where a message had appeared:

The disk in drive F is not formatted.

Do you want to format it now?

A feeling of discouragement settled over me like a fine mist. I simply sat and stared at the screen.

Instead of boring you with a trove of details and whatnot—telling you about all the weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth—as well as calls to data recovery experts who would charge somewhere between $75 - $225 to retrieve the data (provided that there were no problems, and a bit more than that if there were) let’s instead skip those two days, and go to straight the part where the good news starts leading up to the happy ending…

I was ready to accept my losses, or fork out hundreds of dollars when I suddenly remembered that I had an external drive on which I’d backed up my photos a year ago—it wasn’t up-to-date, but it had the files as they were back in the start of 2009—albeit missing the summer of summers, and all the moments therein—including all of the recent images on my photography website, and shots of my class this year as well.

However, this was far better than what I had before, which was a great, big, steaming pile of nothing.

That’s when I remembered this. Ah, this little technological gem which, after running for 21 hours straight, allowed me access to the last year of photos which I promptly copied over to a new, larger hard drive via two days and several hours of sorting and organizing.

It is now Saturday evening. ComedySportz is on the docket tonight and 98.6% of my files are back where they should be, nestled securely on a new hard drive which will be backed up on a regular basis from now on.

Okay, so I made that number up. In reality, I don’t really know to what percentage my system is; after all, some of the old files were damaged, and time will only tell until I know the full extent of the restoration. But I do know this, the new drive looks an awful lot like the old one, and for that I am grateful

Thank heavens for backups and computer geek programs.



By the way, do you think that this might be a good time for me to encourage you to make a backup of your treasured memories? Preferably sooner than later?

The Button - (for) Moments with Joey

Pin It Updated 5-2-2010


As you've probably noticed, I now do have a button available (well several) for Adventures & Misadventures of Daily Living. Do yourself a favor, click over to the 'Blog Bling' page and get your own blog pimped with some serious blingage...


So, Teachinfourth, when are you going to have a button for your site? This seems to be the incessant call these days. Everybody seems to have a button, don’t they?

My mom had one for years, I know because I was always pushing it.

In the realms of blogging, shouldn’t I have one?

Why shouldn’t I have one?

My. thoughts. exactly.

To be honest, the reason I don't have one is simply because I haven’t thought of a good enough design idea for it yet.

What to do? What to do?

So, instead of creating a button for “Adventures & Misadventures of Daily Living,” I instead made a button for ‘Moments with Joey.’ Adding this little bit of code to your blog sidebar will not only increase its aesthetic value, but will also allow you to (with one simple click) be taken instantly to the archives of current (and past) Joey posts.

"Where do I get that code, Teachinfourth?"

Glad you asked, it's right to the right…help yourself.

Do the right thing.

Add the button.

Joey thanks you.

As do I.

Moments with Joey – The Drink

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SCENE 1, INTERIOR. AFTERNOON, HOMEWORK LAB. The room has about 15 kids, all from different grade levels, scattered about at tables working on various homework assignments. Several teachers rove about the room, helping the kids who need it. One boy sitting at the back of the room raises his hand.

JOEY: Mr. Z?

[The teacher walks to the back of the room and kneels down next to the boy].

TEACHER: What’s your question, Joey?

[The boy leans in conspiratorially and whispers].

JOEY: Did you know that I can do the worm?

[The teacher looks at the boy, confused].

TEACHER: What does that have to do with your homework?

JOEY: Nothing. I just wanted to tell you. Maybe you could record me doing it sometime and put it on YouTube.

TEACHER: Maybe, but probably not. Did you need any help on your homework?

[The boy shakes his head and continues working on his math assignment. The teacher moves to help a few other students when he notices that the boy’s hand is in the air again. He walks back to the student and kneels down next to him].

TEACHER: What do you need, Joey?

JOEY: I was wondering…could I go get a drink of water?

[The teacher glances up at the clock. There are only 10 minutes left of the homework club, and the students will soon be leaving for the day. When the teacher looks down at the boy’s assignment, he notices that he still has half-a-dozen problems left to do].

TEACHER: It’s nearly time to go home, Joey. Couldn’t you just wait to get a drink, and use this time to finish up the rest of your assignment? That way, you wouldn’t have to do it when you got home.

[The boy shakes his head and shoots his teacher a staid look].

JOEY: I need to get a drink now. If I don’t I’ll dry up, my face will crack apart, and I won’t be beautiful anymore. I’ll be so ugly that everybody around me will probably die! This.is.a.drink.emergency.

[The teacher hides a smile as the boy puts his hands on his face and begins to pull the skin back, reducing his eyes to tiny slits. He gives a low moaning sound].

TEACHER: Well, I guess you’d better get your drink then, we don’t want people falling over dead, you know.

[The boy releases his face, grins, and heads for the hallway door. He pauses midway and looks back at his teacher].

JOEY: Mr. Z?

TEACHER: Yeah?

JOEY: You just saved the world, you know.

TEACHER: Yeah, I’m all about keeping world balance.

Fade to black.

March 17th

Pin It Today is St. Patrick’s Day.

I don’t have anything extraordinary planned for today; in fact, I can’t ever recall having ever planning anything for this particular holiday. Maybe green icing on sugar cookies in my elementary school years, perhaps a leprechaun stamp on that day’s papers from a teacher, or attempting to talk like Lucky from the Lucky Charms commercials (‘They’re magically delicious!’), but never really a full-blow party or anything like that.

Wear green. Of course, this was always the ritual—unless I wanted to be pinched by that one particular girl in school, but seeking the pinches of that one eleven year-old goddess came with a price…it seemed that everybody else in the peasant class would freely partake the ritual of pinching as well, when seeing the absence of the sanctified color.

Like piranhas, really.

Some things just aren’t worth it, you know? Even for a simple, sixth grade crush…especially when said goddess may not have felt inclined to pinch you at all.

It seems that at schools today St. Patrick’s Day is not heralded like it once was, back in the days when snowball fighting was allowed—usually with the teachers coming out and plastering their students with gigantic spheres of sloggy slush. I’ve figured out now that this was simply payback to certain students—probably—and a way to vent pent-up frustrations. I can think of a few kids my teachers would have wanted to (and did) hit with a few snowballs…hard. It seemed that they always went for those two or three kids.

That’s probably why it’s against school regulations today.

Bummer.

But I contemplated not wearing green today.

Being an elementary school teacher myself I decided against this as I gazed at my wardrobe this morning. Though there is much less it seems in the time-honored practice of pinching for not wearing this sacred color, it really still is all about customs, right?

I grabbed the green tie.

And will probably pick up some nasty, green-iced cookies on my way to school.

After all, it’s all about tradition.

I'm an Addict...

Pin It Really.

Do you remember when I made this little list?

Of those most favorite things I had in life, Sundried Tomato and Basil Wheat Thins had clearly made the list—most especially because they are…how do I say it?

Amazing?

A party in your mouth?

Akin to heaven and all that is good in the world?

Regardless, it was about two months ago that this particular variety of Wheat Thins was on sale, and at an unbelievably cheap price at that.

I was shaking my head in disbelief as I found myself walking out of the local grocery store with twelve boxes of them packed away into shopping bags. I was thinking at the time just how crazy I was; after all, there would be no heavenly way I could eat all them before their expiration date in April.

Fast-forward to this afternoon.

The pantry had been emptied, the last box having surrendered its last dregs of wonderful, basily goodness. Not a single one of these little, golden delights was in sight. I purchased three more boxes at a not-so-good sale price. I can only ask myself why I didn’t purchase an additional ten boxes two months ago…

Then I remember the fourteen boxes of cereal I threw out over the weekend—some of it having expired back in 2008.

Yeah, I’m kind of like that.

If I keep this up I just might have to start attending Wheat Thins Anonymous.

Later Days and Happy Trails

Pin It It was 9 3/4 years ago.

I remember it like it were yesterday though - even the moment a few years before that one.

Time sure flies at Four Perspectives.

Moments with Joey - The Wave

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SCENE 1, INTERIOR. AFTERNOON, FIFTH GRADE CLASSROOM. The students have just returned from their various leveled math classes and are putting items into their desks before leaving for lunch. One boy sits, staring at the teacher silently for a few moments.

JOEY: Mr. Z?

TEACHER: What’s up, Joey?

[The boy says nothing but instead gives a little wave with his hand; the teacher shakes his head and continues to erase the Promethean board. A moment later the boy speaks again].

JOEY: Mr. Z?

[The teacher turns to the boy again who, in turn, merely gives another little wave and smiles. The teacher gives a little wave back and finishes erasing the board. The boy sits for a second longer then speaks again].

JOEY: Mr. Z?

[The teacher glances to the boy who gives another small wave and a sheepish smile. The teacher, who’d just picked up the remote control for the overhead projector, points it at the boy and presses the power button. The boy freezes in place].

TEACHER: Okay class, time for lunch. Please line up.

[The class lines up at the door and then heads into the hallway under the direction of the class president. The teacher glances around the room to see the boy still sitting frozen at his desk].

TEACHER: Joey, let’s go; it’s time for lunch.

[The boy remains frozen in place and speaks though clenched lips, very reminiscently of the tin woodsman from The Wizard of Oz].

JOEY: Turnh meee baack ooon pleezze, Mrstrr Zeeeee…

[The teacher hides a smile as he reaches for the remote control and pretends to click the power button. The boy immediately springs back into life, and rushes for the door with a hurried ‘Thanks.’ The teacher picks up his lunch sack as the boy opens the door into the hallway].

JOEY: Mr. Z?

[The teacher turns to look at the boy who stands for a silent beat. The boy then raises his hand and gives a small wave before disappearing through the door into the hallway.]

Fade to black.

Tonight I Write the Mundane

Pin It I hadn’t really planned on blogging this evening—after all, I don’t have any insights to share, I don’t feel the need to proclaim any news, and I don’t necessarily want to write anything in particular.

I guess you could say that I just wanted to write for the sake of writing.

So I do.

Today was quite the day of mundaneness, nothing extraordinary, nothing special.

I awoke. I remember having been whisked away from the most astonishing dream; I couldn’t tell you what it entailed exactly, only that it was…pleasant. I’m pretty sure that it was one of those dreams you wouldn’t mind basking in for a few additional hours (or minutes anyhow, as dreams go). However, I didn’t seek it again, but instead got ready for the day.

I went downstairs and sat at the kitchen counter, allowing the unmoving world outside my sliding glass door to stare me straight in the face. I didn’t read emails or blog posts—I probably should have since my inbox and reader are both nearing ‘overwhelming’ levels because of disuse.

I took my glass of juice and just sat.

No music. No computer. Nothing.

It was nice…and it was the only moment of complete, untainted stillness I think I was able to enjoy today—until now. Not that I mind the bustle of chaos my life is on a usual day, because I don’t.

I made the familiar three-and-a-half-mile drive to work this morning. I didn’t listen to music. I didn’t talk on the phone. I didn’t even speak. I instead listened to the steady rhythm of my car as it sped along the deserted streets.

It was nice.

And now I am finished writing. I have nothing more to say, and I am content with this. And, after all, I told you it would be mundane.

So it is.

Fresh Tableware, It's a Beautiful Thing...

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What is the draw with clean utensils and plates? I don't know either, but I love it. Come take a visit.

Image garnered from: http://www.somewhatfrank.com/

The Wickedness of Oz

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When I was a kid, I remembered watching “The Wizard of Oz.” I loved this move. There was something about it that always seemed to take me away to another place…not a place you get to by boat or train. It’s far, far away. Behind the moon, beyond the rain…

Maybe it was also from the fact that The Wizard of Oz only came on once—maybe twice a year that made it so captivating. We’d make popcorn, grab blankets, and settle down on the living room floor to enjoy this tale of a young girl whisked away from all that she knew and loved, to literally go on a whirlwind adventure. In fact, even after we’d recorded it on videocassette, we’d still find ourselves watching it on TV, commercials and all…

What can I say? There was just something about this movie that was captivating.

Now, fast-forward a slew of years to the present time.

This past summer I took a trip to New York for a week to visit my brother and his wife. During that time I had many opportunities to see the sights, and have some great experiences. One of the things I was able to do was to see ‘Wicked’ at the Gershwin Theatre.

Entering this building was magical. I found myself spellbound as I took a seat next to complete strangers whom—after a few minutes—didn’t seem so strange, after all were all there to share a common experience.

At a signal from the conductor, the orchestra struck the first chords of the overture, which hushed the talking of the crowd. The lights dimmed, signifying that the production was about to begin. As the music rose and climaxed, the lights ignited the stage, and I found myself slipping away into a not-so-familiar memory.

The story that was being laid out was not exactly the one that I’d remembered.

I found myself drawn into the exchange between the wicked witch of the west, Elphaba, and Glenda, the good witch of the north. The play began to unfold, telling the story of their unlikely friendship, and their differing points of views on the society known as Oz.

As the play continued, I found that my own perspective was beginning to change. In many ways, it was like that moment when somebody told you additional news that altered your original thought processes toward a particular situation. You found yourself discovering things you were never privy to, simply because you weren’t allowed to know those subtle bits of information which then change everything…suddenly, you found that you understood; you realized why a person did what they did.

It wasn’t long before the witch, who’d previously been one of my least-favorite characters, was rapidly becoming my favorite…and it was all from being allowed to see things from another vantage point; from a precipice from which I’d never before been allowed.

When the production was over, I sat alone in the theatre for a few minutes, sorting out the two stories—one from my childhood, and one from the here and now; both the same, yet with vast differences between them.

Soon, an usher notified me that I’d need to leave as there was another showing, and they were about to begin seating. I stood and made my way to the exit where I found the bustling streets of New York awaiting me.

As I made my way toward Broadway Avenue, I realized that there were certain things in this world that looked different to me now. I would like to think, that in some small way, that I have been changed as well—for good.

And, if you're interested…here is this, and this. However, whatever you do…don't click on this one.

Finally, as for the photos on this page, I sadly only took one of them. The rest were pilfered from the Internet. Of course, it would happen that I couldn't find the reference sheet I'd made so I couldn't tell you exactly where I found them all from. Of course, I could re-look them up, but I'm lazy...

Moments with Joey – Good Looks

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SCENE 1, INTERIOR. NOON, FIFTH GRADE CLASSROOM. Math class has just ended and the class is getting ready to head down to the lunchroom. The teacher picks up his lunch bag and addresses the twenty-plus students.

TEACHER: Alright, everyone who’s good-looking, please go line up for lunch.

[Nearly the entire class scramble into two lines by the classroom door; however, a few students hold back and remain sitting at their desks].

TEACHER: Now, if you’re SUPER good-looking, then you can go and line up, too. However, I don’t think that any of you are quite as good-looking as me.

[The rest of the students hurry into line with the exception of one boy who remains seated at his desk. The president of the class takes the students from the room as the teacher notices the lone student].

TEACHER: Joey, didn’t you want to go to lunch?

[The boy remains sitting, looking intently at his teacher. He has a look of concern on his face].

JOEY: Mr. Z, it really isn’t fair though.

TEACHER: [Confused]. What isn’t fair?

JOEY: Well, what you just said. You know, you’re older than us, so you’ve had a lot more practice and experience at being good-looking than we have; that’s not really fair.

[The teacher raises his eyebrows].

TEACHER: I never thought about that before, Joey [pause]. Well, what do you think you could do to try to be more attractive?

[The boy thinks for several moments before answering].

JOEY: Keep checkin’ myself out in the mirror?

TEACHER: [Stifling a laugh]. That sounds like a great idea…

JOEY: Well, I am beautiful, you know.

TEACHER: Uh…

JOEY: And one day…I’ll be old like you, too; and then I’ll be even better looking than I am now.

[With this, the boy stands and walks toward the classroom door, smoothing out his eyebrows with his fingertips. He gives winks and heads to the lunchroom].

TEACHER: [Spoken quietly]. Heaven help the world...

[Fade to black].

I'll Tell You a Story...

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Like stories? I know that I do.

This one even has a happy ending.