“Alors, I am a fallen angel,” thought Auntie Carol. And she thought of how her class, Las Cabronas, would be shocked at her behavior of late. Then she thought, “What They Don’t Know Won’t Hurt Them,” with a smirk. She and Herman, her beloved husband, had embarked on the shoddy practice of having sex in public places. Herman liked the excitement of being discovered in “flagrante delecto”.
At Le Bec Fin, a pricey French restaurant, this alarming behavior began. She sucked him off while he ate his meal while being under the elegant linen tablecloth on her knees. Need I say the waiter was well pleased with his tip, and the sweetbreads proved to be excellent, and the crème sauce was divine. A little double entendre for you, darlings. Otherwise Life continued as before, she with her students, and Herman with his clients at the Sexually Dysfunctional Clinic.
It was a rainy Friday and she was going over the declension of the verb, “To Be” trying to vanquish the use of the dreadful, dastardly colloquialism, “Aint”.
“Now, girls, does one say ‘I aint coming or ‘I am not coming’?”
There was a silence in the classroom and a rolling of eyes. And Chiquita piped up. “Miz Carol I think it’s a foregone conclusion. I would use the latter.”
“Where in heavens name, did you learn to speak that way, dear?”.
“What you think, Miz Carol, that only white people can talk shit? I watch old black and white movies like the Philadelphia Story with Katherine Hepburn and the Perry Mason reruns.”
“Well done, dear. Keep it up. You girls should all take a page from Chiquita’s book,” said Auntie Carol.
“Chiquita aint write no book, Miz Carol. She too ‘ignant’ for that,” intoned LaLa with a laugh.
“I’m not ignorant. Not no more, bitch,” said Chiquita.
Auntie Carol flung herself dramatically across the room like the dying swan in the ballet, Swan Lake. “Girls, girls, girls, you murder the English language. It’s didn’t write not aint write. And Chiquita you used the dreaded dastardly double negative. It’s not no more: it’s any more. Must I tear my heart out to get you to speak, the King’s English. Must I impale myself on a Crusader’s Sword, or give up and join the nunnery?”
“Well, that would be a neat trick, Miz Carol. Psych,” said LaLa.
“Dear, cruelty and sarcasm do not delineate a lady. A lady is mild and kind in all her dealings with people like the sainted Mother Therese. God Bless her soul.”
At the propitious moment there was a knock on the door and Herman Sherman, dressed as Salvador Dali presented himself at the door proclaiming he was the new vice-principal.
“I have urgent need for your services, Mrs. Herman. Come with me immediately. This is a serious matter.”
“Girls, I shall be back in twenty minutes. LaLa, you take charge of the class. Repeat over and over again the declensions for the verb, To Be, as written on the board. If any nonsense occurs, I shall know it immediately. I can read a guilty face and recognize a sinner at fifty paces,” said Auntie Carol.
“You gonna’ go wit’ this freak. He wearin’ a chartreuse suit and lookin’ like a serial killer. How you know he aint a serial killer?” queried LaLa.
“With, dear, not wit’ and isn’t a serial killer. No, dearest, this is the new vice-principal, Mr. GoForth.”
“Like Go Forth and Multiply,” quipped LaLa.
“Well, you already know all about that, dear. You’re here in this classroom to become a lady and learn the glory of the English language. Civilization is based on proper deportment and mastery of the English language. You can’t expect to speak like a strumpet and be respected. Adieu, mon amis.” Auntie Carol prided herself on her sang froit.
While she was gone LaLa riveted the class with her witty impersonations of Auntie Carol and the class roared with laughter. And there were not stabbings, whatsoever.
“Well,” said Herman, upon leaving, “You handled that well. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“I don’t, at least not yet,” she said with a snort laugh. “Shall we duck in the janitor’s closet: I have the keys.”
“Oh, hell yes,” said Herman, who grabbed and squeezed her ass. “I’m going to make you squeal like a Georgia hog, Carol.”
“Oh, God, yes,” said Auntie Carol as they stepped into the closet, removing her skirt and panties.
“Keep on the black bra, hon, your tits look like two giant scoops of pineapple sherbet bouncing on a pitted road. I’m gonna’ pinch your nipples pink and ram you with my rod.”
“Upsy daisy,” said Auntie Carol, ever the wit.
Imagine the janitor’s surprise and chagrin when he found Herman using the plunger on her pussy. And the moist sucking sound excited his manly condition.
Herman, quick to see the possibilities in life, removed his shirt and presented the janitor with a heavenly vision of his pert nectarine shaped breasts and the janitor may or may not have said, “Cowiebonga”.
“Just relax, hon, while I milk you like a fuckin’ cow,” said Herman grabbing the janitor’s cock. Auntie Carol resumed masturbating herself with the plunger and all three reached the same conclusion. It was the best of all possible worlds.
Upon arriving back to class she found LaLa in the middle of one of her silly impersonations.
“Dear, it’s not nice to make fun of those less fortunate than you,” said Auntie Carol.
“But you’re not less fortunate, Miz Carol,” said LaLa,
“Details, details, my girl,” said Auntie Carol.
“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,” responded Chiquita.
“I know, dear. Reader’s Digest Memorable Quotes, right?”.
“Miz Carol, you smell like cleaning fluid.” Observed LaLa.
“Well, dear, you know what they say. Cleanliness is next to Godliness,” responded Auntie Carol.
CAROL ANN writer of Poems of Thunder (Noir&Whimsy) @ Amazon & BN.com