Thursday, October 27, 2005

Lunch Lady

I know I said that I wouldn't post until tomorrow, but seven days seems long enough to go without blogging. I feel refreshed, and ready go to work again. I'm back, and this time I'm really silly. I shall start up with a little melodrama for LoneStar Ma, who requested (twice!) a story with the phrase "Lunch Lady."

Rory loved the Lunch Lady. It wasn’t because of her appearance. Actually, he wasn’t sure what she looked like. Her hands were covered with cellophane gloves and any silvery-black curls that escaped from her shower-cap were strictly against regulation, but Rory was sure that behind the steam-covered spectacles were kindly eyes. It wasn’t just that she always gave him a paper cup of chocolate pudding instead of red –gelatin with celery bits, or that she understood his repulsion of gravy to the extent that she would save for him a small batch of uncontaminated mashed potatoes. It wasn’t just that she always made sure that on Slab-of-Goo Fridays there was always a piece of plain pizza set aside for Rory, instead of pizza with the suspiciously-shaped grey-green sausage bits that were supposed to be so sought after.

This is why Rory loved the Lunch Lady:

One day, while standing in line, Nick Meagher stood on Rory’s shoelaces. Rory stepped forward, and fell. Nick laughed. “Eat the floor, Rory!” he said. “It’s better for you anyway. There ain’t no such thing as a free lunch."

Rory fumed. Just because he had a Free Lunch ticket did not mean that he expected handouts. Rory gripped the bars of the tray table and pulled himself up. He grabbed the first thing he could get his hands on. All he had expected really was an unopened carton of milk to use as a wet-grenade. Instead, he found himself gripping the Lunch Lady’s ladle. It was full of gravy. Rory swung the ladle as if it were a sword, and the spoon connected with the side of Nick’s head. Gravy splattered everywhere. The gravy wasn’t hot, but Nick roared with pain anyway.

Witnesses afterward said they weren’t sure what happened. The only person who seemed to know at all what went on was the Lunch Lady herself. “The ladle must have slipped out of my grasp when Nick stepped on Rory’s shoelaces,” she said. “I’m sure it was all an accident, of course.”

An investigation ensued. There was some legal talk of suing the Lunch Lady, suing Rory’s parents, suing the school… but all of that talk abated when it was discovered that Nick Meagher had been hoarding stolen ice-cream tickets in his locker and selling them at a discount. Nick Meagher denied everything. “I’ve been set up!” he howled as he was dragged away to the in-school suspension dungeon.

As far as everyone knows, he is there to this day still.


Nonny said...

I had stopped by only to remind you that you said you would post tomorrow but instead I received the very pleansant surprise of your lunch lady story. This would make a really good children's series :)

Lone Star Ma said...

Very funny. All hail the next Andrew Clements. It's nice that you made her a force for good when they are usually so evil.

Welcome back and thank you for the story!

Alkelda the Gleeful said...

Nonny and Lone Star Ma,
Thanks so much. It's good to be back. I've been reading your blogs, of course, but it's nice to have something to offer as well.

Andrew said...

This is the most tear-jerkingly beautiful thing I have ever read in my life.