Windy had no children, and he sure as sugar wasn’t a teacher, but he could talk. And he was patiently biding his time. Despite the board’s foot dragging through the agenda, Windy didn’t give up and go home.
Finally, Alcott said it was time for public feedback and asked if anyone wanted to speak. Windy raised his hand. Alcott looked desperately around, but Windy’s hand was the only one raised. He nodded in Windy’s direction.
“My name is Alphonse Wilson,” he said, standing, “and I live here.”
“We know who you are, Windy,” said Alcott.
“Thanks, Buck. I feel it’s my duty to bring to the board’s attention a strategic dearth of learning with these young people today. A paucity of eddyflication. In short, their vocabulary is seriously obfusticated. We have to ask ourselves, what are these young people going to do in polite society when a hostess passes around the horse doovers? Are they going to palaver proper, or just sit there on their sacrolibriums and nod? Are they going to be admitted to the barn association, write them writs of habeas porpoise, or just sue each other out of court? Are we really doing them a favor by not enrichelating their talking prior to a proper propulsion into adultery? I say no!”
Two ladies in the audience quickly excused themselves and dashed into the hallway.
“Instead of being instructed in proper English, our students today spend all their time watching private defective shows on television. So I think teachers should work on getting ‘em more eloquenter than they are now.”
“Mr. Wilson,” asked one of the board members, “what is it about the way our students speak that you find objectionable?”
“They say like all the time. Instead of making a simple declarational sentencing, they say, ‘Oh, I was like this and he was like that, and she like ate dinner.’
Windy doesn’t even charge for these lessons. They’re always, like, free.
Brought to you by the now national-award-winning book “A Cowboy’s Guide to Growing Up Right.” Read a sample at www.slimrandles.com.