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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1704256-PEMDAS-2
Rated: 13+ · Letter/Memo · Comedy · #1704256
A letter of apology to the school board from a young student on behalf of his dear aunt.
To the Waaklesky School District Board:

Please excuse my dear Aunt Sally.

Let me explain.

First off, let me apologize for that early shocker. My dad had every intention of being a chaperone for our field trip. He had his L.L. Bean travel bag all filled up and ready to go. Heck, he even brought his trusty chaperoning megaphone. Ol' Mikey, as he calls it. But at about 5:30 in the morning, my dad got a call from Mr. Jeremy that all the salespeople had to go to an emergency briefing in St. Cloud. Some dopey shit about pathogens or cathode rays or something like that. After he stopped talking to Mr. Jeremy, my dad woke up Aunt Sally and asked if she could take his place. She didn't seem too excited until the words "chocolate" and "factory" were mentioned. We left for school ten minutes later (even though school didn't even start for another hour). Aunt Sally was filled with jubilance every second on the bus ride down to Minneapolis. I didn't know she loved chocolate so much. I guess she did since she filled her gigantic Coach purse as well as my leather Jansport knapsack with a crap load of boxes of Rocky Mountain Chocolate after the tour was over.

When me and my little brother Shannon went back to the bus to drop off our stuff so we could go ice skating at the park, Shannon was holding some sort of needle. The kind that the doctor pokes you with to make you cry and make him rich and happy. He said he got it from a candyman who was selling his new recipes on the side of the road next to the factory. It didn't look like any candy I've ever seen, but Shannon said that the candyman said it was a special kind of lollipop called "A Dreamy Lime." Must have been from Europe or Oklahoma or some shit because it wasn't spelled that way. It was spelled "adrenaline."

Shannon set his candy next to Aunt Sally's purse, which was now oozing with shiny, gooey brown plasma. I didn't care enough to do anything about that unspeakable debacle of a mess, so Shannon and I got off the chartered Lorenz bus to catch up with the rest of the group. On our way to the park, we passed Aunt Sally. She was looking kind of sleepy and she was randomly jerking forward, making funny popcorn sounds with her back. I thought I'd ask her about the brown shit in her purse, so I followed her back to the bus.

Once we got there, I tried to ask her and was interrupted by some loud muttering sounds from the moistened fat underneath Aunt Sally's butt chin. Those guttural noises were followed by a loud shriek that made me jump high enough to set an Olympic record. Aunt Sally stood up to reveal Shannon's dreamy lime poking out of her ass. Two silent minutes went by before Aunt Sally started to vibrate like my dad's Blackberry. She yanked Shannon's candy out of her voluminous jello mold of a butt, pushed me into Bobby Trent's backpack with tremendous force, and sprinted toward the driver's seat.

As I tentatively got back on my feet, I quickly fell back down as Aunt Sally hit the gas pedal. It was like Aunt Sally had just seen Speed for the first time and drew some demented inspiration from the plot line. Remembering what I learned in Little Rascals Boot Camp, I army crawled my way up to Aunt Sally to ask her what the great green gravy fuck she was doing. This time, she had an answer. Apparently, Aunt Sally did get a job after all. I didn't even know the CIA was hiring middle aged drug addicted fat folks from north central Minnesota. But, to my surprise, my Aunt Sally was on a secret mission to stop the KGB's efforts at dominating America. From what I remember, the KGB was supposed to be as smart as the CIA. But, considering their big, evil plan was to replace the mustard at Hardee's restaurants with moldy Romanian mustard to control the minds of American youth, Mother Russia probably didn't think this one through.

Regardless, Aunt Sally got the bus at a speed of about 70 miles an hour and was heading straight for the Hardee's on Hamline Avenue. I tried to talk her out of it, but Aunt Sally was not about to listen to my reasoning. She was acting like the time I gave Shannon a bottle of Mountain Dew and he was hyper for five hours and he shaved his eyebrows. The only difference was that Aunt Sally had a bad case of the jitters and she also was about to destroy the only decent Hardee's in Minnesota. I knew I couldn't stop her without having the bus veer into oncoming traffic, so I bolted back to the dinky bathroom and started praying. Forty-two seconds later, it happened.

BLAM!

The toilet splashed a puddle of Smurfy blue stew in my face. It sure wasn't anything like the blue raspberry fun dip I had on the way down to Minneapolis. But nothing could have prepared me for the sight that awaited me outside the chrome lavatory door. Clicking off the "occupied" light, I bore witness to a fast food ground zero. Aunt Sally had driven right through the two-story burger joint with a precision that would have made Sandra Bullock look like a prison short bus driver. I wondered how many people my dear Aunt Sally had slain until I saw a surprisingly intact sheet metal sign lying next to the right front tire. According to the sign, the St. Paul Hardee's had been closed three weeks ago due to economical turmoil.

Aunt Sally told me to tell you that she is genuinely sorry for sitting on my brother's dreamy lime and causing the following infractions to occur:
1. Destruction of an abandoned fast food eatery.
2. Use of a chartered bus to destroy a fast food eatery.
3. Making Vice Principal Roglerts chase after the bus on foot and eventually fall down an open manhole. We'll be sure to attend the funeral on Wednesday.
4. Leaving behind 34 students and teachers and instilling fear within them that they did not have a ride home.
5. Spilling melted Rocky Mountain chocolate all over Mr. Roglerts' satchel, which contained a 32GB iPod touch that was loaded with 28 GB of pornography and was labeled with Principal Koebbler's name, address, and cell phone number.

It won't happen again.

Sincerely,
Graham Mackenrow
6th Grade
© Copyright 2010 David Amerman (dasamerman at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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