Monday 09

Monday 09
Dear Dumb Diary,
The visitors from the faraway middle school arrived today. Okay, it's only a couple miles away, but still. I had a close encounter with one today and, excellently, so did Angel.
Here's how it went: We were in English class and Mr. Evans was talking about his dumb understanding - cultures - through - writting thing, and he started goiving us a haiku lesson.
A haiku is a Traditional Japaneses there - line poem that has five syllab;es in the first line, seven in the next line, and then five in the last line, which is useful to know in case you ever find yourself in a position where you're insired to write a beautiful poem, but you can't be bothered to spend any more than seventeen syllables o the project.
So, Mr. Evans read us a few, and I guess they're kind of pretty. Most of them seemed to be about flowers and birds. Then he asked ur to write one, but he only have ur a couple minutes. I really don't think it was fair to make us read them out loud, but he did.
Anyway, this was mine:
Five syllables here.
And now you got seven more.
And now five. Happy?
When Evans is angry he pumps extra blood throught his face so that his big ugly head - vein throbs at you. He gave ne a couple of throbs and then called Angel. This, unfartunatley, was her haiku:
The sparrow's music
Is brighter and lovelier
Than festive feathers.
It got a little round of applause, of coures, becaouse even Angel's intestinal gas would get a littke round applause.
But before they could all erect a bid gold statue to the memory of how excellent Angel's haiku was, a girl in the black - one I had not noticed when I came in - raised her hand. She was one of the new Wodehouse iddle School kids. Ang Mr. Evans called on her: " Yes, Colette."