Performance Exhausts Cure Those Hump Day Blues
A disheveled Mr. Sweeny hurries into the Social Studies room moments after the bell rings - late as usual. "Hump Day Happy!" screams the class. Patrick Sweeny has taught Social Studies for 13 years. You would think that would get the routine down, but the slowness is no stranger to Mr. Sweeny. It is usually found in the biting through the halls, in a constant state of disorder - a stack of books under his arm, a suitcase with the other, coffee in one hand, a brown bagLunch at the other.
Style, on the other side is a foreign language to him - went extinct with the dinosaurs is influenced as much as Patrick Sweeney. You might think that his wardrobe was similar to that of a superhero wardrobe, made up of pairs of points than the same clothes, but the remains of chalk dust spots and pit to another, the story less exciting.
"Hump day. ... I want" Mr. Sweeny mutters softly under his breath. Poor ole boy Sweeny, the Company has not enjoyed aWoman in years, perhaps decades. But can you blame him? Receding hairline and lack of hygiene, are not exactly in the style of that time, well, maybe bad hygiene.
"Hey Mr. Sweeny, what we learned today?" Samantha asked Wilcott valedictorian, a future.
"Why do not we start by the tasks of the night? All take it away"
"Sweeny, I want to see you in the hall," Harrison's voice exploded deep principle. Her voice was perfect for a principle. His handHe had the power chords, shivers down the spine, a newcomer to break the power of a punch, sending the power to sing "Chocolate Rain".
The school children would echo the voice down the principle Harrison, listen to "Sweeny, you have no idea how many times have you been since the end of the year?"
Sweeny began to stammer: "Well ... uh ... I do not remember the exact -"
"38! Gosh Dern 38 days. If you are a student who would come back should be maintained. If you were my son would be grounded. Heck, ifThese charges were, they would be arrested! "
Sweeney was there with his head bowed, and, finally, notice the chalk dust on his shirt. "Point taken Greg." Greg Harrison was the principal name.
"I do not want to come to you, but you need here on time. If not, I'll find someone."
"I know Greg, it's just the transportation .."
"Sweeny, I do not want to hear. I do not care if you go down the road blown air horn, 'Out of my way to scream!Just get here on time. "
Sweeny nodded and went back to class. It was not in the mood for teaching or speaking in general for that matter. So he put a quiz and sat as his desk in silence.
The problem is that he is lazy. The problem is that it is extremely disorganized. From the moment you wake up, Mr. Sweeny is constantly catching up. Today was out of toothpaste. If toothpaste is not over, it's milk or ink for your printer, or somethingelse. He must then go on the market in order to get his supplies and ends up being late for work.
Hmmm, Mr. Sweeny pondered quietly to beat the traffic quizzes completed during his class. "A tornado is simply ridiculous," thought Sweeny. A horn would be a bit strong 'offensive as well. At that time, the view from the window, flying Sweeny discovered Landing parking Stang Brock on his suped up '. The car is excited about something in the master of melancholy growl. He feltalive.
It struck him as Babe Ruth knocking one of the parks. He needed something like the voice of principle Harrison, who would come to know and better watch out. So on that day he went to his local body and had them install the exhaust system were stronger bad-A.
When they had finished, Sweeny got behind the wheel and fired at them. Vrooooom. Wow, is strong. The next day, when Sweeney moved down the road he drove every car on the educatedShoulder to be the road to Sweeny fast car. He did it time and every day after class.
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