It was Thursday evening and Maxwell Smart took one
last drag off his cigarette before putting it out in
the ashtray. Carefully looking around him, he felt it was safe to enter through the door. Inside was a classroom half full of students waiting for the teacher to arrive.
Max took a seat and also waited. Moments later, the
instructor entered the room. She was a small older
woman, with bluish white hair. She reminded Max of his
1st grade teacher. "Hello class, my name is Miss Lydia
Brock and I will be your instructor for 6 weeks of
Creative Writing for Beginners." Max was interested in
trying something new, so when he found the class offered in the super market throw-a-way under Adult Evening
Classes, he decided to give it a try. Max had a million stories to tell about his adventures as a secret agent, and if he could get them compiled into a book, he figured he'd be sitting pretty come retirement time.
"Now class, I'd like to take roll call so when you
hear your name, just say 'here'. Let's see, Arnold?"
"Here."
"Baker?"
"Here."
Suddenly, the door in the back of the room creaked open,
causing the Miss Brock to look up. "Please come in and
take a seat." The only seat available was next to Max.
Max casually looked next to him at the man sitting
down.
"Siegfried!! What are you doing here?" Max asked withhis eyes wide open.
"Oh, if it isn't Maxvell Schmart. I can't go anywhere
vithout you showing up," Siegfried sighed. "I am here
for the zame thing you are Schmart, … to become a better
viter."
"This is great, just great. Twenty adult schools in the
area and I get you as a classmate." Max rolled his
eyes. "Look, Siegfried, I don't trust you. What are you
really up too?"
"You are alvays zuspizious, Schmart. Look, vhile ve are
in here, let's call a truce. Agreed?"
Siegfried put out his hand as Max squinted at him, not
if he was on the up and up.
"My instincts tell me I shouldn't trust you but, … ok
Siegfried. Truce. But if you pull any funny business,
I'll shoot you right here and now."
"Remind me not to look over your shoulder during a test."
Miss Brock cleared her throat to get Max's and Siegfried's attention. "Excuse me, you two. I'd like to get
class started, if that's ok with you?"
Max and Siegfried just waved to Miss Brock for her to continue. Max leaned over and whispered, "See, you
already got me in trouble with the teacher."
Siegfried whispered back, "Sissy."
Going through the roll, she came upon Max's name.
"Maxwell Smart?"
Max jumped to attention from his seat. "Yes Miss
Brock, that's me, Maxwell Smart."
"Teacher's pet," Siegfried mumbled under his breath.
Continuing down the list, she came upon Siegfried's
name. "Conrad Siegfried?"
"Ya, das ist me."
"Oh, you're German. How long have you been in this country, Mr. Siegfried?"
"Ten years," Siegfried proudly proclaimed. "Das how cume
I talk so gut, dat I do."
Max just rolled his eyes and settled back in his seat.
He'd have to put up with Siegfried if he wanted to
continue with the class. It was way too late to sign up elsewhere.
For the rest of the evening, Miss Brock went over the
basics of what was entailed for the 6 weeks and what
was expected from them. "I have an assignment for you
to do for next week, class. Please write a five-page short
story. It can be about anything you want. This way, I
can see where you are in your skills as a writer. This
is a participation class, so your classmates will also
review your work. Thank you. Class is over. See you
next week."
Max and Siegfried got up slowly, not wanting to be
behind the other as they left.
"After you," Max announced, as he waved his hand to go past him.
"No, no. You first," Siegfried replied.
"Oh no, I insist. You first."
Oh dis is ridiculous, Schmart. Just go."
"We'll go together," Max offered.
They both walked side by side to the door, but the door
was not wide enough for both of them to fit through.
"Now what?" Max started to think.
"Dare is a door up front. I'll go out that vone, and you go out this vone," Siegfried suggested.
Siegfried broke Max's concentration. "Siegfried, if you're going to keep talking, I'll never figure out how we can get out of here. If you don't mind, …" Max started to think again, "Wait a minute, wait a minute. I've got it. What if you go out that door up front, and I'll go out this
back door?"
Siegfried sighed and closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Gut idea, Schmart."
Both men exited at the same time, and left different ways to go home.
The next morning, 99 walked into Max's office and saw him hovering over his typewriter.
"Max, you look so preoccupied. What are you writing?"
"Oh, hi 99. I'm taking this writing class and, being
the experienced agent that I am, I thought the world
might enjoy reading about all of my exciting experiences.
You know, … all about the glamorous life of a spy."
"Glamorous? Max, you can't write about your experiences. It's classified information."
"Not if I change the names, 99. Then no one will know
it's me. I'm writing it as a fictional story.
99 picked up the title page.
"'Death Comes But Once'? Some title."
99 read on. "Manuel Abusado, well-built, virile, incredibly
handsome Latin secret agent, and his partner, lusty,
leggy, bikini-clad beauty, Miss Nine, battle the evil
organization, TURMOIL, against world domination."
99 looked up and raised an eyebrow. "Lusty, leggy,
bikini-clad beauty, Miss Nine? Would this, by chance,
happen to be your description of me?"
"Of course not, 99. It has nothing to do with you. Why,
I've never even seen you in a bikini."
"How about, 'Abusado'? Any first year Spanish student is gonna know that's you, Max."
Max ignored 99, and kept working on his masterpiece. 99
shrugged and kept reading, skipping through the text.
"Manuel was a cool one. Nothing could penetrate him, not even TURMOIL. They had tried many times to defeat him. And many times they had failed," 99 read to herself. "Oh, brother," she said as she continued further into the story, "Manuel walked up to the mysterious dame standing next to the dead body. She had curves in all the right places, as well as some of the wrong ones. Checking the dead man's pulse, Manuel shook his head. " I'm not sure about this" said Manuel. "Are you saying that you have no experience in such matters, Mr. Abusado?"
Manuel raised up and leaned toward her "I have experience in almost everything," he said as he leered at her.
"Don't you think you should tone this down a bit?" 99 asked.
"I'm just tellin' it like it is, 99," Max replied.
Thursday came quickly, and Max was ready.
"Tonight we will hear from Mr. Smart," Miss Brock said.
Max gave a look to Siegfried, as he straightened out his
papers. Max read his story to the class, being very
animated with his gestures and facial expressions. Afterwards, for a moment there was silence from the class. Then, thunderous applause.
"Ok, thank you, Mr. Smart. Class, please write your
review for Mr. Smart's story, 'Death Comes But Once',
on the 3x5 cards that have been placed on your desks."
Max was eager to read what the class thought, as he
strained his neck to get a glimpse of someone's
review. Looking next to Siegfried, Max's eyes shifted as far
right as possible to get a peek. Siegfried caught Max
taking liberties, and quickly covered his card with his hand.
"Can't you vait till I'm done?" he asked.
Max snapped his head back. "I'm gonna see it
eventually," Max mumbled.
A few moments later, all the cards were passed to the
front and collected by Miss Brock. Quickly, skimming
through the cards, the statement on Miss Brock's face
showed no emotion.
Max was trying to read her expressions to get an idea of
what the cards said, but to no avail.
"I see we have run out of time, so let's discuss Mr.
Smart's story next week," Miss Brock said, looking to
the clock on the wall.
Max stood up. "You mean I have to wait till next week
to find out if you liked my story or not?"
"Sorry, Mr. Smart, but class is over. But, here." Miss
Brock handed the cards over to Max. "You can certainly
look over the cards, and see how you did."
Max waited till the class filed out of the room before he read his reviews. Then he stopped himself.
"Nope, I think I'll stop by 99's, and share the good
reviews with her."
Back at 99's apartment, 99 brought in some coffee, and
set it down on the table by the couch. Max was anxious
to read the cards, but wanted 99's full attention.
"Ok, here goes." Max flipped through the cards,
"Good story." Max looked on the other side, but no other
comment was written. "Could have said a little more,
but it's just the first one."
99 just nodded and smiled.
Max read the next one. "Interesting character development. Of course it's got interesting characters, … it's about me!"
99 said nothing, but quietly sipped her coffee.
"Good story." Max flipped through a few more.
"Ok, here's one with more comments," Max smiled
confidently. "I just loved your story, Mr. Smart. Let's
get together some night and study, Colleen. 555-…"
99 quickly pulled the card from Max's hand and ripped
it up.
Max tugged on his collar, "Can I help it if she really liked
my writing?"
Max could tell 99 was not amused. "Alright, next card."
"Exciting story, but your characters sound too good to
be real." Max read. "Well, ok, maybe I exaggerated a tad much."
99 looked at him, disbelieving.
"Would you believe… quite a bit?"
99 shook her head.
"Ok, I lied though my teeth. But 99, to really sell the
story, you need to embellish it a little. Add some drama. You know?"
Max continued reading a few more cards. "Interesting style, great plot, horrible story, characters could use …" Max stopped and went back to the previous card. "Horrible? What do they mean, horrible? Who wrote this?" Max looked over the card, but it had no name. Just 'horrible story' was written on it.
"I guess not everyone enjoyed Manuel Abusado and his partner, Miss Bikini," 99 said, sarcastically.
"It's Miss Nine, 99. I worked hard on that story.
Everyone liked it except this one person." Max started
to pout, "I'm crushed. I don't think I can ever write
again."
99 tried to comfort Max, "So someone didn't like your story. Just dismiss it, and move on."
"I can't, 99. I'm hurt." Max suddenly straightened up,
"I gotta know who wrote that review," Max announced angrily.
"Don't they sign their names?" asked 99.
"No, Miss Brock feels that people would be more fair
in their evaluation if they did them anonymously," Max explained.
"Wait a minute…" A light went on in Max's brain.
"Siegfried! Of course, it's Siegfried. It couldn't be anyone
else but Siegfried."
"Siegfried is in your writing class?" 99 asked with a surprised tone.
"Yes, and just wait till next Thursday night. Boy, will
he get his."
**************************
Max waited outside the class impatiently for the
instructor to arrive to open the door.
"Good evening, Mr.Smart. Have you had a chance to look over your cards from last week?"
"Yes," Max grumbled.
"From what I read of the cards, you got quite a favorable
review on your story. I can't believe you're not happy."
"I don't think you saw the one that said 'horrible
story' on it, did you?" Max asked.
"I might have missed that one. Class ended as I was
collecting the cards, so I only skimmed through them
quickly. What else did it say, other than 'horrible story'?"
"Nothing else, just that. I mean if I could only find
out what was wrong with it, not that it wasn't already
perfect, mind you, but some indication of why it was
horrible," Max explained.
"I don't require my students to put their names on the
cards, so you may never know."
"Oh, I know." Max spied Siegfried walking into the class. "… I know."
"I have written comments on your paper, and will hand
it back to you this evening. But, just to make you feel
better…" Miss Brock leaned in and whispered to Max, "I liked your story."
Max beamed. He finally did something someone liked. Not just his classmates, but someone of authority. He could see it now, being sought after by the biggest publishers 20 weeks on the best seller's list, book tours, fame and fortune... Suddenly, Max snapped back to
reality. It would all mean nothing, unless he found out why Siegfried hated his story.
Max strolled up to his desk and sat down. Siegfried was
busy getting his own story ready for the evening, so he
didn't even notice Max sitting next to him.
Max leaned over to him, "You rat! What was wrong with
my story?"
"I don't know vhat you're talking aboot, Schmart." Sigfried said nonchalantly.
"Don't give me that 'I'm so innocent' stuff. You were
the one that wrote 'horrible story' about my story."
"You can't prove dat."
"Oh yeah? Well, all these years as a top notch agent
proved to be very useful in finding out which one of
my fellow classmates decided to be cruel, mean and
extremely hurtful."
"How do you figure?" Sigfried wondered.
"My keen eye noticed that the way the comment was
written could only be from someone not from this area …
certain characteristics in the way the letters were
formed. And it had a manly flair in the handwriting.
Only one person in this room fits that category. And that's you, Siegfried."
Max paused for a moment and continued with his
observation. "… And the fact that the comment was
written in German helped, too." Max noted.
Siegfried snapped his fingers, "After ten years in dis
country, you'd zhink I'd learn somezing."
Siegfried was caught, but defended his reasoning.
"True, Schmart, it vas me. But, I am sticking to my
comment. It vas a horrible story."
"But why?"
"First, your characters sound like zey come from unt bad
Ian Fleming novel. Second, vhat a bunch of hooey with
ze girls. Third, with all we've been through I'm not
mentioned ONCE in your story," Siegfried pouted.
"Ohhhh, so this is what it's all about, … sour grapes
huh, Siegfried? Of course you're in it. I admit I had
to change the names, but I took that story from one of
my missions that you happened to get involved in."
"To quote, 'I found the leader of TURMOIL to be a pompous, cruel, low-life second rate killer agent'. I can live with the pompous, cruel low-life but 'second rate killer?' dat's hitting below zee belt." Sigfried cried.
"Well, you are the bad guy in the story, you know. I can't have you win and, from what I remember, you didn't."
Max started to fill out his 3x5 card.
"Vhat are you doing, Schmart?" Sigfried asked as he looked over Max's shoulder.
"I'm giving you my review for your story," Max said, without hesitation.
"But I havun't even read it yet."
"No matter. I can tell it's gonna stink, even before you read it."
Siegfried grabbed for the card and Max punched him in
the chin. Siegfried dropped the card to hold his chin,
then returned fire, with a kick to Max's shin.
Miss Brock noticed the scuffle going on in the back of
the room.
"Stop that, you two! Stop it!" Miss Brock yelled.
Max and Siegfried, not heeding her words, slapped and
punched each other like they were a couple of school
boys. Miss Brock made her way down the isle to both of
them, and separated them with her arms.
"If I have anymore trouble from you two hooligans,
out you go. And I'll give you a failing grade!" she declared.
Max and Siegfried straightened up and sat back in
their chairs. "Yes, Miss Brock," they said in unison.
As Miss Brock turned, Siegfried threw a final sucker
punch at Max. Quickly, without missing a beat, Miss Brock
slapped Siegfried upside the head.
"Don't mess with me, German boy!" Miss Brock warned him.
Siegfried got the message, as Max smiled and stuck his
tongue out at him.
"Ok, class, now that we have retained some sort of
order, our next story is from …" Miss Brock looked at her
roll sheet and sighed, "… Mr. Siegfried."
Siegfried stood up and snapped his heels together. "Danka."
Making his way up to the front of the room, he passed
by Miss Brock and leaned away from her reach.
Siegfried began his story in a calm, reserved tone, then acted like a storm trooper for the rest of it.
During the story, Siegfried was interrupted by the sound
of snoring from out in the class. He kept reading, but had his watchful eye on Max in the back.
Miss Brock announced, "We will keep our comments to
ourselves till after the reading, Mr. Smart, or we
shall be sitting outside."
Siegfried continued diligently with his story, then finished. Most of the class clapped with very little vigor, while most just sat with their mouths open. Afterward, Miss Brock commented, "My, don't we have a vivid imagination, Mr. Siegfried?" Siegfried smiled and went back to his seat.
Max sneered at him as he sat down.
"Ok, class, please give your review of Mr.
Siegfried's story on your cards."
As Max reached for his card, Miss Brock quickly added, "All except for you, Mr. Smart."
Max frowned and slammed his card back down on the
desk. Miss Brock pointed at Max and Siegfried.
"After class, I want to see both of you in my office."
Max sat with his arms crossed, with a frown on his face, and Siegfried began to bite his nails.
"That's it for this evening, class. See you next week."
Miss Brock grabbed her papers, and looked over to Max
and Siegfried. "You two, come with me."
Max and Siegfried got up from their desks, and walked
solemnly to Miss Brock's office. Once inside, they sat
down in front of Miss Brock.
"Never in my 40 years of teaching have I seen such a display of selfishness, rudeness and immaturity. I am ashamed of both of you." Looking over at Max, she continued, "You get one bad review, and you fall to pieces. Granted, the review was not valid …," Miss Brock said, as she eyed Siegfried, "… but, nonetheless, it was a review, and it could have easily been from someone else that you didn't know. As a writer, you take the good with the bad. You can't please everyone, you only have to please yourself. Arguing and fighting is no way to settle
such matters. And you …," snapping her head over to
Siegfried, "… that review you gave Mr. Smart had no
validity, whatsoever. Just writing 'horrible story',
without some kind of explanation, is not fair to the
writer. You're also setting yourself up for retaliation, and you risk not getting an honest assessment of your own story. Now, from what I read, both of you have good writing styles. Different, but good. If you can refrain from getting on each other's nerves, you'll be better writers by the end of the 6 weeks."
That boost of encouragement was all Max needed to
hear. "Alright, I'm willing to give it another go. How
about you, Siggy?"
"Is gut for me, too" Siegfried replied.
"I hope I wasn't out of line with the snoring bit,"
Max said, apologetically.
"Nein. Unt, I'd like to re-read your story and give you
a more constructive review."
"See you next week?" Max asked, eagerly.
"Ya, next week, Schmart."
As Max turned to leave, Siegfried patted him on the
back, and also left. Max was proud that he could settle
his differences with Siegfried like gentlemen. As Max
walked down the corridor, a sign hung on his back that
read, 'Kick me'.
last drag off his cigarette before putting it out in
the ashtray. Carefully looking around him, he felt it was safe to enter through the door. Inside was a classroom half full of students waiting for the teacher to arrive.
Max took a seat and also waited. Moments later, the
instructor entered the room. She was a small older
woman, with bluish white hair. She reminded Max of his
1st grade teacher. "Hello class, my name is Miss Lydia
Brock and I will be your instructor for 6 weeks of
Creative Writing for Beginners." Max was interested in
trying something new, so when he found the class offered in the super market throw-a-way under Adult Evening
Classes, he decided to give it a try. Max had a million stories to tell about his adventures as a secret agent, and if he could get them compiled into a book, he figured he'd be sitting pretty come retirement time.
"Now class, I'd like to take roll call so when you
hear your name, just say 'here'. Let's see, Arnold?"
"Here."
"Baker?"
"Here."
Suddenly, the door in the back of the room creaked open,
causing the Miss Brock to look up. "Please come in and
take a seat." The only seat available was next to Max.
Max casually looked next to him at the man sitting
down.
"Siegfried!! What are you doing here?" Max asked withhis eyes wide open.
"Oh, if it isn't Maxvell Schmart. I can't go anywhere
vithout you showing up," Siegfried sighed. "I am here
for the zame thing you are Schmart, … to become a better
viter."
"This is great, just great. Twenty adult schools in the
area and I get you as a classmate." Max rolled his
eyes. "Look, Siegfried, I don't trust you. What are you
really up too?"
"You are alvays zuspizious, Schmart. Look, vhile ve are
in here, let's call a truce. Agreed?"
Siegfried put out his hand as Max squinted at him, not
if he was on the up and up.
"My instincts tell me I shouldn't trust you but, … ok
Siegfried. Truce. But if you pull any funny business,
I'll shoot you right here and now."
"Remind me not to look over your shoulder during a test."
Miss Brock cleared her throat to get Max's and Siegfried's attention. "Excuse me, you two. I'd like to get
class started, if that's ok with you?"
Max and Siegfried just waved to Miss Brock for her to continue. Max leaned over and whispered, "See, you
already got me in trouble with the teacher."
Siegfried whispered back, "Sissy."
Going through the roll, she came upon Max's name.
"Maxwell Smart?"
Max jumped to attention from his seat. "Yes Miss
Brock, that's me, Maxwell Smart."
"Teacher's pet," Siegfried mumbled under his breath.
Continuing down the list, she came upon Siegfried's
name. "Conrad Siegfried?"
"Ya, das ist me."
"Oh, you're German. How long have you been in this country, Mr. Siegfried?"
"Ten years," Siegfried proudly proclaimed. "Das how cume
I talk so gut, dat I do."
Max just rolled his eyes and settled back in his seat.
He'd have to put up with Siegfried if he wanted to
continue with the class. It was way too late to sign up elsewhere.
For the rest of the evening, Miss Brock went over the
basics of what was entailed for the 6 weeks and what
was expected from them. "I have an assignment for you
to do for next week, class. Please write a five-page short
story. It can be about anything you want. This way, I
can see where you are in your skills as a writer. This
is a participation class, so your classmates will also
review your work. Thank you. Class is over. See you
next week."
Max and Siegfried got up slowly, not wanting to be
behind the other as they left.
"After you," Max announced, as he waved his hand to go past him.
"No, no. You first," Siegfried replied.
"Oh no, I insist. You first."
Oh dis is ridiculous, Schmart. Just go."
"We'll go together," Max offered.
They both walked side by side to the door, but the door
was not wide enough for both of them to fit through.
"Now what?" Max started to think.
"Dare is a door up front. I'll go out that vone, and you go out this vone," Siegfried suggested.
Siegfried broke Max's concentration. "Siegfried, if you're going to keep talking, I'll never figure out how we can get out of here. If you don't mind, …" Max started to think again, "Wait a minute, wait a minute. I've got it. What if you go out that door up front, and I'll go out this
back door?"
Siegfried sighed and closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Gut idea, Schmart."
Both men exited at the same time, and left different ways to go home.
The next morning, 99 walked into Max's office and saw him hovering over his typewriter.
"Max, you look so preoccupied. What are you writing?"
"Oh, hi 99. I'm taking this writing class and, being
the experienced agent that I am, I thought the world
might enjoy reading about all of my exciting experiences.
You know, … all about the glamorous life of a spy."
"Glamorous? Max, you can't write about your experiences. It's classified information."
"Not if I change the names, 99. Then no one will know
it's me. I'm writing it as a fictional story.
99 picked up the title page.
"'Death Comes But Once'? Some title."
99 read on. "Manuel Abusado, well-built, virile, incredibly
handsome Latin secret agent, and his partner, lusty,
leggy, bikini-clad beauty, Miss Nine, battle the evil
organization, TURMOIL, against world domination."
99 looked up and raised an eyebrow. "Lusty, leggy,
bikini-clad beauty, Miss Nine? Would this, by chance,
happen to be your description of me?"
"Of course not, 99. It has nothing to do with you. Why,
I've never even seen you in a bikini."
"How about, 'Abusado'? Any first year Spanish student is gonna know that's you, Max."
Max ignored 99, and kept working on his masterpiece. 99
shrugged and kept reading, skipping through the text.
"Manuel was a cool one. Nothing could penetrate him, not even TURMOIL. They had tried many times to defeat him. And many times they had failed," 99 read to herself. "Oh, brother," she said as she continued further into the story, "Manuel walked up to the mysterious dame standing next to the dead body. She had curves in all the right places, as well as some of the wrong ones. Checking the dead man's pulse, Manuel shook his head. " I'm not sure about this" said Manuel. "Are you saying that you have no experience in such matters, Mr. Abusado?"
Manuel raised up and leaned toward her "I have experience in almost everything," he said as he leered at her.
"Don't you think you should tone this down a bit?" 99 asked.
"I'm just tellin' it like it is, 99," Max replied.
Thursday came quickly, and Max was ready.
"Tonight we will hear from Mr. Smart," Miss Brock said.
Max gave a look to Siegfried, as he straightened out his
papers. Max read his story to the class, being very
animated with his gestures and facial expressions. Afterwards, for a moment there was silence from the class. Then, thunderous applause.
"Ok, thank you, Mr. Smart. Class, please write your
review for Mr. Smart's story, 'Death Comes But Once',
on the 3x5 cards that have been placed on your desks."
Max was eager to read what the class thought, as he
strained his neck to get a glimpse of someone's
review. Looking next to Siegfried, Max's eyes shifted as far
right as possible to get a peek. Siegfried caught Max
taking liberties, and quickly covered his card with his hand.
"Can't you vait till I'm done?" he asked.
Max snapped his head back. "I'm gonna see it
eventually," Max mumbled.
A few moments later, all the cards were passed to the
front and collected by Miss Brock. Quickly, skimming
through the cards, the statement on Miss Brock's face
showed no emotion.
Max was trying to read her expressions to get an idea of
what the cards said, but to no avail.
"I see we have run out of time, so let's discuss Mr.
Smart's story next week," Miss Brock said, looking to
the clock on the wall.
Max stood up. "You mean I have to wait till next week
to find out if you liked my story or not?"
"Sorry, Mr. Smart, but class is over. But, here." Miss
Brock handed the cards over to Max. "You can certainly
look over the cards, and see how you did."
Max waited till the class filed out of the room before he read his reviews. Then he stopped himself.
"Nope, I think I'll stop by 99's, and share the good
reviews with her."
Back at 99's apartment, 99 brought in some coffee, and
set it down on the table by the couch. Max was anxious
to read the cards, but wanted 99's full attention.
"Ok, here goes." Max flipped through the cards,
"Good story." Max looked on the other side, but no other
comment was written. "Could have said a little more,
but it's just the first one."
99 just nodded and smiled.
Max read the next one. "Interesting character development. Of course it's got interesting characters, … it's about me!"
99 said nothing, but quietly sipped her coffee.
"Good story." Max flipped through a few more.
"Ok, here's one with more comments," Max smiled
confidently. "I just loved your story, Mr. Smart. Let's
get together some night and study, Colleen. 555-…"
99 quickly pulled the card from Max's hand and ripped
it up.
Max tugged on his collar, "Can I help it if she really liked
my writing?"
Max could tell 99 was not amused. "Alright, next card."
"Exciting story, but your characters sound too good to
be real." Max read. "Well, ok, maybe I exaggerated a tad much."
99 looked at him, disbelieving.
"Would you believe… quite a bit?"
99 shook her head.
"Ok, I lied though my teeth. But 99, to really sell the
story, you need to embellish it a little. Add some drama. You know?"
Max continued reading a few more cards. "Interesting style, great plot, horrible story, characters could use …" Max stopped and went back to the previous card. "Horrible? What do they mean, horrible? Who wrote this?" Max looked over the card, but it had no name. Just 'horrible story' was written on it.
"I guess not everyone enjoyed Manuel Abusado and his partner, Miss Bikini," 99 said, sarcastically.
"It's Miss Nine, 99. I worked hard on that story.
Everyone liked it except this one person." Max started
to pout, "I'm crushed. I don't think I can ever write
again."
99 tried to comfort Max, "So someone didn't like your story. Just dismiss it, and move on."
"I can't, 99. I'm hurt." Max suddenly straightened up,
"I gotta know who wrote that review," Max announced angrily.
"Don't they sign their names?" asked 99.
"No, Miss Brock feels that people would be more fair
in their evaluation if they did them anonymously," Max explained.
"Wait a minute…" A light went on in Max's brain.
"Siegfried! Of course, it's Siegfried. It couldn't be anyone
else but Siegfried."
"Siegfried is in your writing class?" 99 asked with a surprised tone.
"Yes, and just wait till next Thursday night. Boy, will
he get his."
**************************
Max waited outside the class impatiently for the
instructor to arrive to open the door.
"Good evening, Mr.Smart. Have you had a chance to look over your cards from last week?"
"Yes," Max grumbled.
"From what I read of the cards, you got quite a favorable
review on your story. I can't believe you're not happy."
"I don't think you saw the one that said 'horrible
story' on it, did you?" Max asked.
"I might have missed that one. Class ended as I was
collecting the cards, so I only skimmed through them
quickly. What else did it say, other than 'horrible story'?"
"Nothing else, just that. I mean if I could only find
out what was wrong with it, not that it wasn't already
perfect, mind you, but some indication of why it was
horrible," Max explained.
"I don't require my students to put their names on the
cards, so you may never know."
"Oh, I know." Max spied Siegfried walking into the class. "… I know."
"I have written comments on your paper, and will hand
it back to you this evening. But, just to make you feel
better…" Miss Brock leaned in and whispered to Max, "I liked your story."
Max beamed. He finally did something someone liked. Not just his classmates, but someone of authority. He could see it now, being sought after by the biggest publishers 20 weeks on the best seller's list, book tours, fame and fortune... Suddenly, Max snapped back to
reality. It would all mean nothing, unless he found out why Siegfried hated his story.
Max strolled up to his desk and sat down. Siegfried was
busy getting his own story ready for the evening, so he
didn't even notice Max sitting next to him.
Max leaned over to him, "You rat! What was wrong with
my story?"
"I don't know vhat you're talking aboot, Schmart." Sigfried said nonchalantly.
"Don't give me that 'I'm so innocent' stuff. You were
the one that wrote 'horrible story' about my story."
"You can't prove dat."
"Oh yeah? Well, all these years as a top notch agent
proved to be very useful in finding out which one of
my fellow classmates decided to be cruel, mean and
extremely hurtful."
"How do you figure?" Sigfried wondered.
"My keen eye noticed that the way the comment was
written could only be from someone not from this area …
certain characteristics in the way the letters were
formed. And it had a manly flair in the handwriting.
Only one person in this room fits that category. And that's you, Siegfried."
Max paused for a moment and continued with his
observation. "… And the fact that the comment was
written in German helped, too." Max noted.
Siegfried snapped his fingers, "After ten years in dis
country, you'd zhink I'd learn somezing."
Siegfried was caught, but defended his reasoning.
"True, Schmart, it vas me. But, I am sticking to my
comment. It vas a horrible story."
"But why?"
"First, your characters sound like zey come from unt bad
Ian Fleming novel. Second, vhat a bunch of hooey with
ze girls. Third, with all we've been through I'm not
mentioned ONCE in your story," Siegfried pouted.
"Ohhhh, so this is what it's all about, … sour grapes
huh, Siegfried? Of course you're in it. I admit I had
to change the names, but I took that story from one of
my missions that you happened to get involved in."
"To quote, 'I found the leader of TURMOIL to be a pompous, cruel, low-life second rate killer agent'. I can live with the pompous, cruel low-life but 'second rate killer?' dat's hitting below zee belt." Sigfried cried.
"Well, you are the bad guy in the story, you know. I can't have you win and, from what I remember, you didn't."
Max started to fill out his 3x5 card.
"Vhat are you doing, Schmart?" Sigfried asked as he looked over Max's shoulder.
"I'm giving you my review for your story," Max said, without hesitation.
"But I havun't even read it yet."
"No matter. I can tell it's gonna stink, even before you read it."
Siegfried grabbed for the card and Max punched him in
the chin. Siegfried dropped the card to hold his chin,
then returned fire, with a kick to Max's shin.
Miss Brock noticed the scuffle going on in the back of
the room.
"Stop that, you two! Stop it!" Miss Brock yelled.
Max and Siegfried, not heeding her words, slapped and
punched each other like they were a couple of school
boys. Miss Brock made her way down the isle to both of
them, and separated them with her arms.
"If I have anymore trouble from you two hooligans,
out you go. And I'll give you a failing grade!" she declared.
Max and Siegfried straightened up and sat back in
their chairs. "Yes, Miss Brock," they said in unison.
As Miss Brock turned, Siegfried threw a final sucker
punch at Max. Quickly, without missing a beat, Miss Brock
slapped Siegfried upside the head.
"Don't mess with me, German boy!" Miss Brock warned him.
Siegfried got the message, as Max smiled and stuck his
tongue out at him.
"Ok, class, now that we have retained some sort of
order, our next story is from …" Miss Brock looked at her
roll sheet and sighed, "… Mr. Siegfried."
Siegfried stood up and snapped his heels together. "Danka."
Making his way up to the front of the room, he passed
by Miss Brock and leaned away from her reach.
Siegfried began his story in a calm, reserved tone, then acted like a storm trooper for the rest of it.
During the story, Siegfried was interrupted by the sound
of snoring from out in the class. He kept reading, but had his watchful eye on Max in the back.
Miss Brock announced, "We will keep our comments to
ourselves till after the reading, Mr. Smart, or we
shall be sitting outside."
Siegfried continued diligently with his story, then finished. Most of the class clapped with very little vigor, while most just sat with their mouths open. Afterward, Miss Brock commented, "My, don't we have a vivid imagination, Mr. Siegfried?" Siegfried smiled and went back to his seat.
Max sneered at him as he sat down.
"Ok, class, please give your review of Mr.
Siegfried's story on your cards."
As Max reached for his card, Miss Brock quickly added, "All except for you, Mr. Smart."
Max frowned and slammed his card back down on the
desk. Miss Brock pointed at Max and Siegfried.
"After class, I want to see both of you in my office."
Max sat with his arms crossed, with a frown on his face, and Siegfried began to bite his nails.
"That's it for this evening, class. See you next week."
Miss Brock grabbed her papers, and looked over to Max
and Siegfried. "You two, come with me."
Max and Siegfried got up from their desks, and walked
solemnly to Miss Brock's office. Once inside, they sat
down in front of Miss Brock.
"Never in my 40 years of teaching have I seen such a display of selfishness, rudeness and immaturity. I am ashamed of both of you." Looking over at Max, she continued, "You get one bad review, and you fall to pieces. Granted, the review was not valid …," Miss Brock said, as she eyed Siegfried, "… but, nonetheless, it was a review, and it could have easily been from someone else that you didn't know. As a writer, you take the good with the bad. You can't please everyone, you only have to please yourself. Arguing and fighting is no way to settle
such matters. And you …," snapping her head over to
Siegfried, "… that review you gave Mr. Smart had no
validity, whatsoever. Just writing 'horrible story',
without some kind of explanation, is not fair to the
writer. You're also setting yourself up for retaliation, and you risk not getting an honest assessment of your own story. Now, from what I read, both of you have good writing styles. Different, but good. If you can refrain from getting on each other's nerves, you'll be better writers by the end of the 6 weeks."
That boost of encouragement was all Max needed to
hear. "Alright, I'm willing to give it another go. How
about you, Siggy?"
"Is gut for me, too" Siegfried replied.
"I hope I wasn't out of line with the snoring bit,"
Max said, apologetically.
"Nein. Unt, I'd like to re-read your story and give you
a more constructive review."
"See you next week?" Max asked, eagerly.
"Ya, next week, Schmart."
As Max turned to leave, Siegfried patted him on the
back, and also left. Max was proud that he could settle
his differences with Siegfried like gentlemen. As Max
walked down the corridor, a sign hung on his back that
read, 'Kick me'.