|
|
|
My wife is a school teacher. She is on her feet all day responding to the needs of students, parents, and administration. She is always on stage, and is constantly being reminded that what she does has a definitive affect upon the lives of children and the future of us all. She barely gets time for a bathroom break. In order to get all her work done, she has to bring it home with her.
I work in an office. So when I come home with stories about a potluck or, possibly, a funny email that was circulated, she looks at me uncomprehendingly, wondering how someone could possibly fit something so frivolous into his day. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised that she was a little less than enthusiastic when I came home reporting all the great fun we had at the office with "International Talk Like A Pirate Day." Incidentally, International Talk Like A Pirate Day takes place on September 19th every year. Mark it on your calendars. One department in our company put out a treasure chest filled with candy, served cupcakes, and put up decorations. "You did what today?" my wife asked. "Some people in your company actually put up decorations?" "Well, yeah," I said, "Isn't that kind of like when you post the order of mathematical operations up for your students as mandated by state guidelines?" "Uh...No. Do you want to know what I did today? I didn't want to say yes, but I did, even though I knew it was just going to be the same old work stuff. She moved aside her pile of papers to get a good look at me. "I taught three classes of math and two classes of science. I counseled a student whose father is in jail, dealt with three angry parents, and gave myself a urinary infection from 'holding it' all day." "You know what I would have done?" I asked. "What?" "Told those angry parents that they could go walk the plank. AARRR." I winked at her in a sly piratey kind of way. I should have known that I had gone too far, but I couldn't stop. "And that parent who was in jail. Was he in for stealin' loot, matey? I would have had him secure the mainstay, batten down the hatches, and then scrub the deck. What you think of that, you saucy wench?" I threw in another "ARRRR" for good measure. It was then that the mutiny occurred. I tried to stop it with a last ditch effort. "Don't get anchory," I said. I should've known that a pun will never get you out of trouble. My ship was sunk. I was on my way to meet Davy Jones and spend some time in his locker. My timbers were shivered. Dinner that night was a can of sardines. I had to get them out of the cupboard myself. I could have used a treasure map to find the Saltines that went with them, because I wasn't get directions from anyone in the near vicinity. Even the goldfish was giving me dirty looks as I ate my sardines. What's his problem? I wondered. Does everyone think I'm insensitive? I'm sure I'll have recovered by the time the next International Talk Like a Pirate Day rolls around, but I'm prepared for it this time. I bought a parrot, named it Molly, and taught her to say, "Batten the Hatches," "Careful, sailor," and, if I still don't get it, "Ack! Shut up! Shut up now!" Yes, that's what I need: a proper warning. My peg leg and the eye patch are the least of my troubles. I gotta sail a steady course and be careful of settin' storms in motion with the drafts from my own mouth. ARRRR. That'll be a fine day then, indeed it will. |
 |