Hey, a free meal is a free meal.
I had dinner with the Sigismunds last night. Fortunately, it turns out my fears were unfounded. But it was still crazy--both the home and the family. Dust caking everything, odd paintings on the wall, suits of armor standing in the corners. It was like something out of The Addams Family, The Munsters, or something. I wasn't sure, but after walking around the place for a bit, I got the suspicious feeling that if I walked upstairs I'd find a bed with Homer's corpse rotting away and an iron gray hair on the pillow next to it.
On the plus side, I found no evidence of missing teachers, I heard no heartbeats coming from the floorboards, and the father didn't ask me to come down to the basement and check out his really cool cask of amontillado. But, on the other hand, I faced a new type of terror. I'm pretty certain the family was... was... trying to convert me--but to what exactly I have no earthly idea.
At dinner they kept talking about "The Leader" and an aligning of stars, planets, and comets and how I should join them on Sunday for "The Drawing Together" (the way they kept saying it, I figured it should be capitalized).
By the end of the night I was just hoping to escape alive before the house broke
apart and collapsed unto itself.
Have you gagged on all my allusions yet?
Anyway, at the very least this sheds oodles of light on why Sigmund is the way he is. He never talks about his parents like my other students. Of course, I'm not sure if he's too embarrassed or doesn't know where to start.
"Yesterday my mom wouldn't let me leave the dinner table until I finished my puddyng of purpaysse."
"My dad told me if I channeled my draoi-heil, then maybe I would be able to hit a curve ball."
My Summer Vacation to the Crop Circles
Maybe he just figured that no one would believe him.
Maybe there are some things that I could do at school to make him feel more comfortable too--like--not staring when he walks in wearing a black trench coat and a fez. Or, I could ask more questions about dragons.
On the plus side, I found no evidence of missing teachers, I heard no heartbeats coming from the floorboards, and the father didn't ask me to come down to the basement and check out his really cool cask of amontillado. But, on the other hand, I faced a new type of terror. I'm pretty certain the family was... was... trying to convert me--but to what exactly I have no earthly idea.
At dinner they kept talking about "The Leader" and an aligning of stars, planets, and comets and how I should join them on Sunday for "The Drawing Together" (the way they kept saying it, I figured it should be capitalized).
By the end of the night I was just hoping to escape alive before the house broke
apart and collapsed unto itself.
Have you gagged on all my allusions yet?
Anyway, at the very least this sheds oodles of light on why Sigmund is the way he is. He never talks about his parents like my other students. Of course, I'm not sure if he's too embarrassed or doesn't know where to start.
"Yesterday my mom wouldn't let me leave the dinner table until I finished my puddyng of purpaysse."
"My dad told me if I channeled my draoi-heil, then maybe I would be able to hit a curve ball."
My Summer Vacation to the Crop Circles
Maybe he just figured that no one would believe him.
Maybe there are some things that I could do at school to make him feel more comfortable too--like--not staring when he walks in wearing a black trench coat and a fez. Or, I could ask more questions about dragons.
- H.T. at 11:30 AM
