Monday, October 15, 2007

HM Is On The Case

Inspector Hillbilly Mom has solved another mystery. A couple weeks ago, when I missed my first day of school to take My Little Pony to the orthopedic pediatrician, something disappeared from my desk. Thank the Gummi Mary it was not one of my pen/pencil collection. No. It was in my top right drawer, next to the green and purple calculators. Since I don't let any of you behind my desk, much less allow you to look though it...I'll tell you what was missing. Band-Aids.

These were not regular Band-Aids. Laws, NO! M-O-O-N. That spells they were SpongeBob Band-Aids in a Scooby Doo tin. I do have young children at home, you know. And when I saw those Scooby Doo tins of Band-Aids on sale for one dollar at The Devil's Playground, I bought one. The tin alone is worth that. And when the Scooby Doo Band-Aids ran out, I brought the flavor of the month from the Mansion. Which happened to be SpongeBob. I had a good supply. It lasted for a couple years. Then, this year, the Band-Aid moochers moved in. Every day, somebody in some class needed a Band-Aid. And I would give one, after determining the injury, and weighing the flow of blood against the desire for attention.

When I left that Thursday, I had about 6 Band-Aids left. They were the mid-size. The large ones had gone to blistered heels and big fat fingers. I had made a mental note to bring some more Band-Aids from home to fill my tin. When I returned, and was asked for a Band-Aid, I pulled out my tin. And the cupboard was more empty than I remembered. All that was left in my Scooby Doo tin were about 10 of those flesh-colored little squares and circles. No bigger than a quarter are they.

Being Mrs. Hillbilly Mom, I had to get to the bottom of this cowardly act of pilferage. "Where did my Band-Aids go the day I had the sub? Was he giving them out willy-nilly? Did you all have terrible educational accidents that left you bleeding profusely, and in need of SpongeBob Band-Aids?" At first they kept their eyes down. I kept silent. Kids can't stand that. It's like in Ghostbusters, when Bill Murray twinkled the piano keys, and said how the ghosts hated that. More silence. Then the first canary sang. "Well, Hemophiliac Bleeder needed one because her arm just would not stop bleeding." HB did not look up. So I also pretended she was not there. "What was wrong with her arm?" They looked sidelong at her, then two tweeted, "Her brother stabbed her with a fork." Okaaay. Her brother is not in my class. In fact, he graduated last year. So I had to ask, "HB, did you use the Band-Aids?" She could stand it no longer, and belted out her own sweet song. "He stabbed me at home, when he was getting a fork out of the dishwasher to eat Chinese food, and I said, 'Chinese food? That's gay' and he stabbed me right here. See? It's still got the scab. So it wouldn't quit bleeding, and I used two Band-Aids." Thank the Gummi Mary again, this time that such a suffering young girl survived the domestic violence incident long enough to sleep through the night, ride the bus to school, and drag herself to 3rd hour where there was a life-saving SpongeBob Band-Aid to apply to her gushing artery.

Another girl jumped on the confessional bandwagon, and declared, "I asked for one for a paper cut on my finger." Then a front-row resident cast a glance at her best friend, and said, "I think MyBuddy has something she'd like to tell you. Like maybe how she used several Band-Aids on her toe." And the culprit gave it up right then. Funny thing, she has been nickel and diming me for those Band-Aids all year. Maybe I should put them in a lock box and declare them rewards for making a perfect test score.

I explained that I may not be able to get more SpongeBob Band-Aids, that maybe they would have to see the nurse for some plain ones, because I did not want to be arrested for practicing medicine without a license. You could hear the eyeballs roll. It's a wonder they weren't popping out of sockets and bouncing around the room like a spilled bucket of Superballs.

Thank the Gummi Mary for a third time. Because I'm fresh out of eye patches.


Stewed Hamm said...

You're a regular Columbo, you are.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Indeed, I am. But with two good eyes, no cigar, and no unkempt trench coat.