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Looking past the blanket

Looking past the blanket

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Published by Robert

True stories from childhood, told from an old man's sense of humor. As trusting children we never see the whole picture till its to late to show sarcasm.

True stories from childhood, told from an old man's sense of humor. As trusting children we never see the whole picture till its to late to show sarcasm.

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Published by: Robert on Nov 24, 2012
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial

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09/17/2013

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I know the government is really out to protect us; whatever. Why else did we havedrills in school where we curled up under our desks to protect us from a nuclearattack? I was the best tucker. If I had only known that it was just a way to get youinto a nice little pile of ash so sweeping you up into a garbage bag was more costeffective, I would have lay spread-eagle on the floor and flipped a couple birds forthe cleanup crew.What about chewing a pill that turned all your teeth red so you could learn to brushthem properly? "Brush your teeth and look in the mirror to see how well you did."I brushed my teeth, lady; I thought you were given us cinnamon red hots. I atefifteen of them. My trips to the bathroom still give me nightmares.Standing in line for a lice check was the best. Laughing at the kids on publicdisplay as dirty scumbags, It wasn't so funny when I had to go through the linethree times. Look nurse, you are a nurse right? I live on a ranch in the middle of nowhere. I've got a tick on my sac named Fred that's the size of a white grape.Wanna see it?Robert, did you do your homework, No. Well, I'm sending home a note with you toshow to your parents, have them sign it and return it tomorrow. My Dad was allover this one. He writes back saying to paddle me whenever I didn't have myhomework done. My teacher, Mrs.. Gill would ask everyone to pass theirhomework up and after shuffling through the papers she would ask where minewas. Didn't get it done. She would open a side drawer and get a paddle out. Moreof a paint stirrer really. Into the hall and I grabbed my ankles. Three swats later andI was consoling her. Really, Mrs. Gill, please don't cry. You didn't even break theskin on the welts from where my Dad laid into me from your note.Disheartened, she gave the privilege over to the Vice-Principal. Now she wouldcall on the intercom for him every morning. Whooptie doo. That turned into a bitof a problem for yours truly when we saw the shop teacher from the High schoolwalking past the Baseball fields swinging something. That something was a fourfoot paddle with rows of holes in it that turned seniors into sniveling 2 year olds.N.A.S.A. had sent over the specs from N.O.R.A.D. The Vice-Principal took aweekend aero-dynamics class to get that just right fit on my sweet spot. He alsostarted his mornings with a cup of coffee and waited for me at the door to theclassroom.

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