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Hyle Troy's picture
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It was quite late by the time Hyle got home. It had been a difficult day.

Firstly the promised delivery date for the school chairs was not going to be met by the supplier and it had taken two hours of constant demanding and a certain amount of animated discussion, lots of which were in Danish, and so spared the blushes of the manager at Oglethorpe Carpentry.

 

Secondly, Hyle’s old foe, damned Mr. Lattergas at Isenkræmmforretninget was being as uncooperative as usual, Informing Hyle there was no white paint available. Anywhere!

This nugget of information had been delivered after Hyle had finished berating the carpenters into promising delivery the following day. This lead to the prospect of no painted classrooms, and even if the paint did turn up it would have to be applied while the furniture was insitu, leading of course to paint drips everywhere.

 

Lattergas, the miserable old sod had been a thorn in Hyle’s side ever since she had arrived in Hope, but this latest piece of awkwardness certainly took the prize!

 

OK, Hyle had definitely tried to push her anger deep inside her before she walked through the door, after all it was unfair to unload all her frustrations on Shad. And it worked, for at least fifteen minutes. He had prepared supper and it was almost on the table, some sort of pie without crust which Hyle didn’t understand, but it was tasty enough for an English dish, not quite as bland as expected. But then the conversation turned to asking about her day.

 

So, he asked, she told him. Perhaps he noted the simmering and tried to cheer her up with a couple of his ‘jokes’


But the final straw? Hyle had just finished removing her make-up in the bathroom, firstly she could not find the towel, soap and mascara residue had got in her eyes and it stung. Next, as she stumbled, her bare foot found his hairbrush on the floor, its porcupine bristles also stung.

 

She eventually groped enough to find the towel and wiped her face to find Him leanng against the bathroom door frame smirking into his beer bottle.

Hyle thrust the towel into his hands and stomped off towards the bedroom.

 

That’s when it happened.

 

He casually dropped the towel on the floor.

 

Åhh for fanden skyld !!”

 

A Nordic tornado barged past Shad, picked up the towel and put it in ‘The Correct’ place, Then the tornado undressed and flounced into bed, flaring nostrils, folded arms, lying on its back counting the cracks in the plaster above.

 

 

 

09:30. Next morning. The Schoolhouse.

 

Okay, give Shad his dues. He delivered on his promise. White paint had been magicked from somewhere and now an army of farmers were getting busy with brushes. Good start, bless him, he had rolled out of bed at five that morning.

 

In the Staff Room waited Ytte and Meike. A prompt arrival for the scheduled first staff meeting meeting. Things were looking up.

 

Three hours later, timetables were set up, itineraries confirmed and roles assigned. Ytte was to be in charge and a slightly nervous looking student teacher Meike was to spend the rest of the day with Ytte learning her new role as the painting agriculturalists toiled to finish the job before 16:00 that afternoon. The time the furniture was scheduled to arrive.

 

As she got into her car, Hyle found herself smiling. “You know, I think this is all going to be ready on time.”



The Teaching Staff, Pre Term

Skolehuset, Skolegade 1, Hope Springs.


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Comments

Lance Striker's picture

(( Ladies love a 5 o'clock Shadow. Fun read as ever :)

Lonely are the brave...

Joe Spivey's picture

((I'm assuming that all the school-age children in Hope have been rounded up, caged or prevented from escaping by other means?

Stick with me kid and you'll be farting through silk.

Joe Spivey's picture

((I hope Meike isn't going to be wearing that top during class otherwise there are going to be a lt of dropped pencils.

Stick with me kid and you'll be farting through silk.

Hyle Troy's picture

I have a feeling that will be a topic under discussion from Ytte, don't you?  Small wonder Meike has her fingers crossed

I would rather die peacefully in my sleep, like Grandad, than screaming, like his passengers



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