A/N: So, this is the spawn of a cracktasic conversation that I had with Commodore Norrington. I can't say that I blame her entirely, though I'd like to. We're just both weird. :-D And when it produced a ficlet, I thought I'd share the cracky love. I hope y'all enjoy!
Dear Mother,
I know I've always told you that I hate my job, but it's weeks like these that I seriously consider quitting. Where shall I begin? First, one of the stupid boys threw up all over the locker room and I had to clean it up. I know, being a janitor, I should be used to that kind of thing by now. But while I was trying to clean it up, two of the seniors, Markham and Stackhouse, thought it would be funny to lock in me in there. I had to spend the night in the locker room.
On top of that, I can't stand the new wrestling coach. His name is Coach Dex and he's huge and kind of mean and he threatened to beat me up the other day. We hired him to replace Coach Ford when he got bitten by a raccoon and contracted a fatal case of rabies. Dex also has a very obvious crush on the cheerleading coach, not that I can blame him; Ms. Emmagen does have a great body. Oh. Sorry, mother.
Many other horrible things have happened to me this week, but I will spare you the details. But, since I know you love your gossip, I shall share with you some of the more sensitive information that I have been able to glean. Word has it that Coach Caldwell from our rival school, Daedalus High, has gotten a new foreign, star quarterback named Hermiod; our little team may be in for a hard season. Speaking of football… I'm not one to pry into others' affairs, but the football coach and the physics teacher sure seem closer than they ought to be. Why, just the other day, I overheard Coach Sheppard inviting Dr. McKay to go see the new 'Pirates of the Caribbean' movie with him at the theatre. The theatre! That's where couples go! I think I just might inform Principal Weir.
Well, mother, that's been my week, depressing though it may be. I'm looking forward to visiting you this weekend. Please make meatloaf.
Your loving son, Calvin Kavanagh.
