"Soooo, how many grandmothers DO you have?"

"Soooo, how many grandmothers DO you have?" I asked my student who didn't turn his paper in on time (again). "And how many of them are still alive?"

My eight-year-old student looked at me calmly, appraisingly. "17 grandmothers that I know of. And they are all still alive, within me. I attend their funerals for the sake of other

dead people. I like other dead people, not this dead person here. Why, this stiff here? Barely know him. It's the cool dead people I like." The Reverend closed his book, silence fe

ll. The congregation didn't even shuffle. They heard a bus passing and the clock striking 3. "Get out!" yelled The Reverend, "& take your coffin & your flowers with you. I'm sick

of your hypocrisy, and I'm sick of your holier-than thou attitudes! Get out before I bring out the paddle!"

“Seriously,” The funky gremlin of a child barked! “And what makes you think a spanking or two is some sort of determinant?” // “Same,” The less funky fiend added with rolled eyes.

I couldn't remember why I spoke to either of them. I'm funky, I thought, a funky gremlin child and I don't have to put up with this from a being less funky than myself. Rick James

is funky too, especially when he runs a few laps around the school track fully clad in paper bags and aluminium foil. You can smell the funk off of him, like that one girl

o drunk to care. She'd tried to sell her soul to the Devil, but there were no takers.