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Okay, Ms. Squotter Otter Wofhound Person, you want exotic locales and exciting adventures. I can do that. So, no shtuff, there I was, making my way up the wet, slick precipice. Around me, the crazed native mammals surged along, all frantic to reach the top. Amid the press of stinking bodies, I emerged triumphantly at the top, only to be confronted with a mob svene. A torrential flood blocked the way, and the frightened mammals milled about, unwilling to cross the brackish brown waters. The dominant animals shrieked angrily, but the smaller ones ignored them, making nervous sounds and comforting one another with grooming rituals. Impatiently, I waded through the sludge, urging the critters to follow. Several of them clung to me, their spidery fingers pinching me painfully. Finally, we reached the shelter of a small stone room containing a wizened old sage. She beckoned to us, and we entered hesitantly. The bright lights and peculiar odor of the room made the mammals nervous, and they muttered softly among themselves. I watched the wise one soothe the creatures, directing them to perform simple tasks. Finally, the bell rang, and my eighth graders settled down to work in the computer lab. I found out later that a sixth grader had blocked three toilets in the girls' bathroom with plastic Dixie cups. We really have to do something about the crowding on the second-floor stairs, too. |
 
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Exotica