61

"Teachers have less credibility than the mayor," said Maclovio O'Malley, la Voz de los Vatos, as he took a break from another hot day with a cold beer at The Library. "They are constantly complaining. They could rule Brownsville, but they are so damn apathetic that they don't bother to vote. 

"I consider them the most pathetic group of professionals I have had the misfortune to know, " he continued. "They suffer from inferiority complexes. They aren't happy being teachers. They think they should have been doctors or lawyers. That's why so many become administrators after only a few years in the classroom in order to fulfill their delusional need to be somebodies. I never heard you complaining about the job."

"Teaching was a pleasant experience," Dr. T.S. Murphy-Sullivan commenced with a long burp following his pizza and beer. "The kids keep you on your toes, but they're fun. You have to live within your means. If you suffer from keeping up with the Joneses, you will have to find a second income. We may have the intelligence of doctors and lawyers, but we will never command their salaries. 

"For those who aren't pleased with their current pay, a reality check in the dog-eat-dog business world might improve their appreciation for their present occupations. Things could be worse. I could be without a steady check and insurance, but the BISD provided me with a substantial retirement. As long as I have these two, there's hope."

O'Malley was short. Murphy-Sullivan paid the bill. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

6

L ike a hound pointing to its game, the Spring Breaker followed his boner to his condo with the blond co-ed in tow. She had stepped up to the beer bong thrice and could barely walk. He led her into his room and stripped her of her thong as if he were peeling a banana. He was soon straddling her when he stopped an inch short of entering her shaved pussy. "I must confess something," he said. "What?" she slurred. "I have tested positive for HIV." "Have you tested positive for Coronavirus?" she asked. "No." "Then let's fuck, cowboy!!!" 
Read more

5

I was standing at the bar at Cobbleheads when I saw owner Joe Kenney walking past. I grabbed him by the bicep. "Pretty flabby for a guy from Phillly," I said. "Fuck you, Sully," snapped Joe before continuing with that goofy accent. "What do you want?" "I didn't get a chance to wish you Happy St. Patrick's Day! I'd pinch you on the butt since you're not wearing green, but you have a lousy lookin' ass. Let's toast the San Patricio Battalion." "A bunch of filthy traitors," spat Joe. "General Scott should have hung all the bastards instead of branding the majority of them." "You were in the Herald saying that Mexico and the United States had special ties as a result of these Irishmen switching sides in a war that Abraham Lincoln criticized as imperialism run amok." "It's all about business," confessed Joe. "I can't express my true sentiments about those Benedict Arnolds. I h...
Read more

1

My patio faces east. In the early afternoon the sun has embarked on its ancient descent toward the west and I relax on my lawn chair in the shade. I breathe deeply. My lungs are clear. Coronavirus has me contemplating life from a variety of angles. I am led to believe that those who suffer death from the disease suffocate. That doesn't sound like a pleasant exit to me. As a result of this grim reality, I have quit smoking dope. I don't want to weaken my lungs any more than 55 years of puffing on joints has wreaked on them. I have been retired for three years from the BISD after the superintendent threatened to fire me if I kept writing. I chose to keep writing. It is my spiritual calling. I had contributed 39 years to the school district and I was working for free. Retirement was a logical option. I don't miss the job, but I do miss my students, athletes and colleagues. I liken my present existence to floating down a lazy Hill Country river in an inner tube. Little did I kn...
Read more