Choose Your Own Romance
(pg. 7) As I allowed my plate to clank softly down on the table in front of me, my gaze never left the face of my instructor. He did not seem to take note of this, and began, in that very reserved manner of his, to eat his meal. I watched as he lifted his tin drinking glass to his lips, then I had to fling my hand to my mouth to keep from bursting out in laughter.
As the cup came away from his mouth, it was highly noticeable that the cream-like substance of the milk had clung to the hair of his lip, transforming his fine, groomed mustache from a refined salt-and-pepper grey to a shade of purest, unavoidable white.
"Haa-!" I laughed, then quenched myself by clamping my mouth shut. However, my stomach still quaked with unshed glee and I began to giggle. My giggles began to escalate into chuckles, then chortles, then finally they escaped my mouth in the laughter I had tried so hard to fetter.
My instructor, across from me, had witnessed the transformation of my giggles into such a boistrous outburst, and, as my laughter evolved into snortling, the old gentleman discovered what I was so tickled at. With a characteristic poise, the old knight unsheathed a white handkercheif from the sleeve of his breastplate and gracefully swiped the white from his lip, and it was as if it had not been there at all.
"Jane," he stated dourly, "it looks like a seat has just opened up over at the children's table. I'm sure that you and your friends have brand of humour in common." His eyebrows were up curtly, and he looked cross and annoyed. My snortles immediately died, and I realized the whole Mess Hall was staring at us because of my outburst.
"O-oh. Yessir." I said, and nodded as I stood to join Gunther and the others...
-default-sit with the boys for breakfast... ...(pg. 4)