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by David Amerman

To the Waaklesky School District Board:
Please excuse my dear Aunt Sally.
Let me explain.

On April 1, my little brother Shannon first learned about the comic potential of April Fool’s Day. He seemed excited about it, but I didn’t really care. I had just come from the junior track meet, where Coach Glassman had me run two relays, the mile, and the half mile. I was too exhausted to give one nugget of lizard shit about what my idiot little 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 hatching a sinister 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 twelve-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 doing all her community service, so she didn’t eat. But the rest of us quickly chowed down without too much dialogue and went straight to bed.

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 school’s 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. Some clay pots were broken and the topsoil had been spilled. Also, a surveillance camera had been knocked down and scuffed up.

From what I can remember about kindergarten, I guessed the clay pots and topsoil must have been left over from the annual Earth Day Potted Plant Project.

I guessed that someone must have gone apeshit trying to break into the school.

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.

As I walked into the main hallway, the warning bell began to sound, which was weird because the warning bell always goes off at 8:30. Even more peculiar was the fact that all the clocks I could find, including the gym clock, the lunch room clock, the fitness center clock, and various classroom clocks, all said that it was about 7:30. Even the custodian’s miniature Jimmy Neutron clock said 7:30.

Still just as confused as I was when I first arrived, I proceeded to the office to see if Secretary Keaton knew what was up. Nobody was in the outer office except for a few firemen. When I opened the main door, an unspeakable stench hit me like a baseball bat. It smelled like horse manure and caramelized feta cheese with a hint of sarsaparilla.

Don’t ask me how, but at that moment, I knew Aunt Sally was in trouble again.

There was a great deal of commotion in Principal Urethrolapoulis’s office. I poked my head in and immediately felt bad for her. After only two weeks on the job as new principal, her office had already been trashed. But the worst thing was yet to come. As I watched, a firemen pulled Aunt Sally off 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 little brother Shannon admitted to changing as per April Fool’s Day) and thought that it was the morning of the Daylight Saving time change.

In a fit of civic responsibility, possibly as a result of all the community service she’s been doing lately, my dear Aunt Sally decided that she was going to “do something right for a change” by setting all of our clocks back an hour. Once she was done resetting the clocks at my house, she figured she would make sure that the clocks at my school were 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. She heaved the first potted flower at the security system nearby and she sent the second one flying straight through the AM kindergarten sliding door.

From there, she set out on 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 controls when the bells rang.

Aunt Sally was able to change the sitting room clock and the VP clock, but she 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 floor, 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 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 due to all the toxic fumes), she said that she had been 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.
Graham Mackenrow
7th Grade


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