In the summer of 1982 I was sent to Thistlethwaite Finishing School for Tenn-aged Males. The postage cost over 350 dollars and I bruised my coccyx repeatedly in transit.
When I arrived I was quickly ushered into the ceremonial hall, where I witnessed the graduation rites of the class of '74. I personally considered 8 years of finishing school excessive, but my future employer insisted on it. Alas since that time standards have slipped at Chicken Wizard.
During the ceremony the graduands displayed an astonishing range of grooming, etiquette and posturing. More than one lecturer was brought to tears. It was two.
I never did complete my studies, my early withdrawal necessitated by the sudden release onto the market of an exciting and fresh new salted snack called Burger Rings. Still in my finishing school garb of flippers and old newspapers, I furtively thrust a twenty cent piece on the milkbar counter. For this I received a portion of 34 Burger Rings.
It was the best day of my life, even if the law courts saw it differently.
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1 comment:
Nicely done. Each paragraph more serendipitous than the last. It was two. - cw
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