September 12, 2008

Pyle's Pet, Popsicle Sticks and Pinko Communists

Andy and I were emailing back & forth lamenting the whole third-grade-Pyle-stick nonsense when I boldly accused him of being Mrs. Pyle's pet and getting away with murder. As you'll see by his response below, he couldn't deny the truth.

Andy said:
Well, absolutely, I was her pet ... and deservedly so! Just look at the attached picture. What an angel!

You see, this is how it happened: I was returning to my desk from a trip to the restroom. (A trip I had taken after politely raising my hand and requesting permission, of course.) As I walked past the desk of a young rabble-rouser named James Charlton (don't know what ever happened to him), he said, "There goes Andy Gibb."

Well that was it! I felt strongly at the time -- as my parents had taught me -- that Andy Gibb and all "his kind" of hippy musicians were long-haired good-for-nothings. I had been greatly insulted. So I responded by turning and really giving him the what-for: "My name is NOT Andy Gibb! It's Andy Mayberry!" (I also included a silent but strongly insinuated, "And Buster, don't you forget it ... or else!") I might have even pointed my index finger in a threatening manner. In times of rage, the details sometimes blur.

Mrs. Pyle didn't hear the gruesome details of our exchange, and how James had all but called me a pinko Communist. She only heard the noise and saw that James and I were talking. She took a popsicle stick from both of us, despite my attempts to explain how justified I had been in my action. I believe she only took a stick from me to satisfy the masses of heathen children in the class who wanted to spill the blood of Mrs. Pyle's favorite student.


  1. *snort*...that'll teach him, Andy. Nice touch with the pix. : )

  2. I have been getting on this site every day and just letting the soundtrack play... thanks for adding some new ones. This is better than pandora!!