Thursday, September 12, 2013

A Secret Squints and Burns Out Its Retinas on the Light of Day

Well, it's official. I've been outed. Too late to crawl back into the dark basement lair. My secret is kaput. A fellow faculty member casually mentioned in line for the two copiers this morning, "I heard something about you!"

Of course that's a cause for concern. Like when a kid gets called to the principal's office. I immediately cataloged all of my recent transgressions, and wrapped them, like so many fresh fish in newsprint, in excuses. Val is nothing if not a whiz at debate. In fact, she must have been a lawyer in a previous life, what with being long-winded, despised by many, and forever being overruled.

"I hear that you're an author!" Yeah. I know who let that cat out of the bag. My bestest friend and ex-teaching buddy, Mabel. I have not had time to communicate with her since yesterday. So she has showered her affections on another. When we last convened by text message, I believe Mabel inquired as to where she fit in in my books. I felt that it would be cruel and unusual to offer her a place of honor between the pages, to be pressed and dessicated for keepsake purposes. So I did what my mother always advised me: "If you can't text anything nice about your bestest friend and ex-teaching buddy, then don't text anything at all." I always follow my mother's advice. That's why I'm the $2 Daughter, you know.

Oh, horror of horrors, Ms. Heard-Something asked where she could get ahold of one of these books! Of course I told her I could sell her one. Or she can delay her gratification and try Amazon. I think I need to send Mabel out on a publicity tour to promote me. It's not like she's doing anything these days. Heh, heh.

If Mabel doesn't like the publicity tour idea, she can hot-trot her heels into the teacher workroom, and start kicking butt and taking names. TWO new Kyoceras from the end of last year, and not a page to print. Both machines were tied up by tremendous stacks of double-sided stapled packets. I left. Not wasting my valuable time standing around a copy machine selling books. When I heard that the Kyoceras had stopped, I went back. Can you believe the one closest to the door was jammed? Yeah. Shocking. And it stayed jammed, even when a student came in and grabbed the done copies.

Oh, and Mabel? I outed you as the Copy-Stopper. I could tell by the look on my future customer's face that she had no idea you were the one. All that time, she had been secretly blaming Val. VAL! Who doesn't even know HOW to stop copies.

We're even. Even like Steven. But if you have a's safe with me.


  1. Val--I could quit/get fired/retire, and then you could hire me as your PR person/manager. I wonder what would be my first move?

  2. You've been outed! Can widespread fame be far behind? I hope not. Way to go.

  3. You'll sell more in your hallowed halls than I sell at a book store. Even suggest your friends might be mentioned and they'll be clamoring to buy.

  4. Sioux,
    Your first move would be out of the fire and into the frying pan. Your next move would be driving to the gas station chicken store to get me a 44 oz. Diet Coke. Then you would traverse the countrified country, insinuating yourself in rural school districts, handing out gently-used Crocs with every book purchased. You will be paid in stock from my proposed handbasket factory.

    Yes. It's safe in the vault. Unless it gets jarred loose by some little kicks while I'm dancing.

    I am not yet a household word. Maybe one of these days, people will say, "That Val! She's so FETCH!"

    I plan to break it to them slowly. I know I can't put a stack in the teacher workroom. Or even one, with a big LOCAL AUTHOR sign on a folded piece of printer paper. You know teachers. Why buy the cow if you can read the milk for free? Perhaps I can broker a deal with the librarian, and give her a cut for allowing me to place a stack at her book fair. Subject to administrator approval, of course.