PEMDAS #3

To the Waaklesky School District Board:

Please excuse my dear Aunt Sally.

Let me explain.

On April 1, my brother Shannon first learned about the comical marvels of April Fool's Day. He seemed rather excited about it, but I didn't really care. Coach Glassman had me run two relays, the mile, and the half mile in the junior track meet, so I was too exhausted to even begin to think about giving one morsel of lizard shit about what my idiot brother had to say. Nodding my head was enough to make him think I was active in the conversation, so I was able to focus on my elusive plot to eliminate Coach Glassman. Only joking, my dear school boardsmen. Anyway, my dad didn't give a crap about Shannon's discovery either. He'd been working 12 hour days since last Tuesday, so sleep was precious to him. For dinner, he brought home KFC for everyone. Aunt Sally was still zonked from community service, so she didn't eat. But the rest of us just sat down, quickly chowed down without too much dialogue, and went straight to sleep.

The next morning, I woke up three minutes before 7:00. I knew that I was up about an hour earlier than normal, but I didn't really care. Thirteen hours of sleep was enough for someone of my tender age. I figured this would be a good time for me to use the new fitness center so that Coach Glassman wouldn't bitch and moan at me as much as she usually does. So, after a shower and a bottle of Yoohoo, I walked the 1.35 miles to school. When I got there, I saw that the sliding door to the east kindergarten room was shattered along with some clay pots and topsoil and a felled, dirtied surveillance camera. From what I can remember about kindergarten, it must have been the annual Earth Day potted plant project. Someone must have went apeshit trying to get into the school without getting into trouble.

I tentatively stepped through the door frame to find a pristine AM kindergarten room with nothing changed except for a messy table moved over toward the clock. At the time I had walked into the main hallway, the warning bell began to sound, which was weird because the warning bell always goes off at around 8:30. Even more peculiar was the fact that all the clocks I could find still said that it was about 7:30. The gym clock, the lunch room clock, the fitness center clock, a lot of the classroom clocks. Hell, even the damn custodian's miniature Jimmy Neutron clock was set back an hour.

Still just as confused as I was when I first arrived, I then proceeded to the office to see if Secretary Keaton knew what was up. Nobody was in the office except for a few firemen. When I opened the main door, a stench of unspeakable proportions wafted into my sinuses. It smelled like horse manure and caramelized feta cheese with a hint of sarsaparilla. At that moment, I knew Aunt Sally was in trouble once again.

A great deal of commotion then erupted as I poked my head into Principal Urethrolapoulis's office. Immediately, I felt bad for her. After only two weeks on the job as new principal, her office had already been mutilated. But my feelings soon became conflicted when the firemen stood Aunt Sally up from off of the top of Principal Urethrolapoulis's demolished pine wood desk. My dad's sister then explained her story:

Apparently, Aunt Sally woke up at around 5:00 in the morning after a long day of picking up trash on the side of Route 94. Barely awake, she looked at the calendar (which my brother admitted to changing as per April Fool's Day) and saw that Daylight Saving Time had occurred several days ago (on November 7, 2010). At that very moment, my dear Aunt Sally decided that she was going to "do some right for a change" by setting all of our clocks back an hour. Once she was done resetting the time at my house, she figured she would make sure that my school was up to snuff as well.

So, after driving my dad's Kia Sedona over to school, she parked in the visitor's lot and made her way over to the entrance. Of course, it was locked. That's when Aunt Sally got creative. She took the two kindergarten class chrysanthemums and used them to make her own entryway. The first potted flower was heaved at the security system nearby and the second one was hauled straight through the AM kindergarten sliding doorway. From there, she was able to her quest. She was successful in reaching and resetting just about every analog clock in the Waaklesky Intermediate School until she reached the main office, which contained the last four targets: the sitting area clock, the principal's and vice principal's clock, and the master clock that controlled when the bells rang.

Aunt Sally was able to change the sitting room clock and the VP clock, but dropped the ball once she used her 467 pounds of body mass to forcibly enter the principal's office. To reach the analog clock ten feet above the ground, Aunt Sally stood up on Principal Urethrolapoulis's newly stained pine desk and reached out as far as her beefy arms could take her. And just when she almost had the ticking Sanyo model in her hands, the craven desk collapsed beneath my dear Aunt Sally's weight. Her fall took out a few wooden shelves laden with knick knacks and also punctured the concrete floor, but worst of all was the fact that the abruptness of the incident surprised the shit out of Aunt Sally. Literally. She vigorously soiled herself upon impact with the unforgiving cement floor and eventually passed out from the shock and smell of it all.

When I visited her in the hospital that day (since school was closed from all the toxic fumes), she said that she was in something called a "fugue state" during the incident, which means she doesn't remember anything at all about what happened. So, despite the damage, the confusion, the cancellation of Baroque Era Appreciation Day, and the everlastingly pungent odor, I don't think it would be fair to send Aunt Sally to jail since she did everything she did while basically sleepwalking.

Trust me. It won't happen again.

Sincerely,
Graham Mackenrow
7th Grade