Wednesday, September 7th, 9:08 P.M.
This afternoon, I was on the roof of the school
clearing off some of the leaves, trash, and general gunk that have blown up
there. Also on the roof was a collection
of balls. Basketballs, baseballs,
footballs, kickballs, tetherballs, all sorts of balls covered with all sorts of
grime. It was my intention to take these
balls off the roof and clean them up so the kids could play with them again.
While I was up there, I looked down on all the
children at play. Nothing out of the
ordinary, just your regular collection of children enjoying being out in the
warm sun. Watching over these children
were their teachers, all standing together against the wall of the school, all
talking and slowly consuming their soda or cigarette. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Included in this group were Mr. Furcifer, looking as
fierce and evil as ever, and Valerie, looking as beautiful and angelic as
ever. The group of teachers were talking
about what they thought was the disgraceful way the kids were playing. Specifically the fact that the verbrecher
children and the opfer children were playing together. Mr. Furcifer was leading the discussion,
peppering the word freton in his comments about the children, while Valerie
stood as the only teacher in the group who had no problem with how the children
were playing. Her comments were quickly
shot down and she was roundly insulted by the rest of the group, the worst
insults coming from Mr. Furcifer. I was
listening to this entire conversation as it happened. The teachers were trying not to talk so loud
that the kids could hear then, but, as I sat on the roof directly above then, I
could hear them clear as a bell.
Sakoshi was playing basketball with his friends
while I was busy cleaning the roof of the school. My brother plays the game pretty well, a fact
that disturbed Mr. Furcifer. He thinks
the only way that any opfer does well at basketball is because they warp the
game in their favor. Furcifer would
rather people bet back to the "basics" as opposed to the way people
actually play.
After finishing his can of Libe and tossing it on
the ground for me to inevitably pick up, Mr. Furcifer started walking over to
where Sakoshi and his friends were playing.
Sakoshi had just used his talent with ball handling to blow past a
defender on his way to the basket. My
brother had just left the ground, poised to perform a delicate fingerroll, when
Mr. Furcifer shoved him to the ground.
Sakoshi fell to the ground in a heap, cracking his head on the
concrete. Mr. Furcifer then started
yelling at him.
"You impudent freton! All that hucking and jiving you do. Why can't you fretons stay on the damn ground
like a good moral person. I don't know
what kind of opfer bullshit you get at home, but here, at my school, you will
cut off all that useless-"
That is when Mr. Furcifer stopped his rant. He didn't stop because one of the teacher had
interrupted him, or Furcifer had felt that he had said enough. Allen Furcifer stopped ranting because he was
hit in the head with a kickball. An old,
dingy, slightly deflated kickball. A
kickball that fell nearly straight down on top of Mr. Furcifer, coming down
only slightly on the side of his head facing the school.
Now, I'm not saying that I was responsible for this
ball hitting Mr. Furcifer. Wait, yes I
am.
Later.
Hato Shurtleff
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