week.”
There was a great cheer.
* * *
By the middle of the week, Kevin Klapper’s continuing presence at Macdonald Hall had come to the attention of the Headmaster.
“Mildred,” he said, sitting down at the kitchen table as his wife prepared to serve the meat loaf, “I’m afraid we have some more trouble brewing.”
“Oh, William,” she chided, setting his plate in front of him. “You can be such a crab sometimes. What is it now?”
“Kevin Klapper. He simply will not go away. We may have to adopt him.”
Mrs. Sturgeon sat down at her own place. “Don’t be silly, William. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for Mr. Klapper still being here.”
“Oh, it’s logical, but that doesn’t mean it makes any sense,” said the Headmaster, spearing a potato with his fork. “He’s staying because of the football team.”
His wife looked shocked. “I know Mr. Klapper despises football, but I can’t believe he would take it out on our team.”
“He isn’t taking anything out on them, Mildred. He’s coaching them.”
She stared. “You must be mistaken.”
The Headmaster shook his head. “Mrs. Davis says that his office in the Ministry calls at least five or six times every day. I’m positive that he either won’t answer his phone or has disconnected it. He’s hiding out here, Mildred! We’re harbouring a fugitive from the Ministry of Education!”
“Are you sure he isn’t perhaps a little behind in his work so he’s forced to remain?” she suggested.
“How would that explain the fact that I just saw him at the stadium conducting a drill in pass defence? No, Mildred. The man has run amok over football again.”
“If that’s true, you must speak with him, William. People listen to you.”
Mr. Sturgeon put down his knife and fork with a clatter, shaking his head vehemently. “I wouldn’t touch this situation with the proverbial ten-foot pole.”
“But you must!” she insisted. “The last time this happened, poor Mr. Klapper practically ruined his life!”
He nodded sadly. “And now he’s out to ruin mine.”
* * *
A miniature pink paper airplane sailed across the auxiliary guest cottage living room and nosedived into the wastebasket. There it lay, wings crumpled, amid the wreckage of many others, an entire day’s worth of messages from Mr. Greer.
Kevin Klapper fitted a sheet of Ministry letterhead into his printer and opened his laptop.
Dear Mr. Greer
,
Just a little update on the many exciting things I’m doing at Macdonald Hall. The geography program is excellent. Using the Frummet-Zinkerstein method, they begin the course with …
He then began to hit keys at random, typing up nonsense words for about three lines, before resuming the letter:
… using, of course, overhead projectors. You may remember this from The Canadian Association of Geographical Thinkers (C.A.G.T.) seminar entitled: “Think Geographically, and You’ll Always Know Where You Are.”
He clicked
print
and watched with satisfaction as the page emerged from the portable ink-jet. Then he picked up a bottle of soy sauce and smeared the dark liquid liberally over the gibberish. For good measure, he put a little blotch over the name “Frummet-Zinkerstein.”
At the bottom, in pen, he scribbled:
It is all quite fascinating, but as you can understand, my time is limited. Even this letter is being written as I eat my lunch. I will keep you posted on my progress
.
He signed with a flourish and, just for good measure, added a few grease spots from a forkful of chow mein. Then he carefully addressed an envelope to the wrong office at the Ministry, affixed insufficient postage and rushed out to mail it.
Cathy Burton was back and better than ever, which meant that Elmer Drimsdale had recovered from the flu. He was back attending classes and working with his bush hamsters. The practices were even tougher, with Kevin Klapper firmly at the helm, preparing the Warriors for their next contest. The defence
There was a great cheer.
* * *
By the middle of the week, Kevin Klapper’s continuing presence at Macdonald Hall had come to the attention of the Headmaster.
“Mildred,” he said, sitting down at the kitchen table as his wife prepared to serve the meat loaf, “I’m afraid we have some more trouble brewing.”
“Oh, William,” she chided, setting his plate in front of him. “You can be such a crab sometimes. What is it now?”
“Kevin Klapper. He simply will not go away. We may have to adopt him.”
Mrs. Sturgeon sat down at her own place. “Don’t be silly, William. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for Mr. Klapper still being here.”
“Oh, it’s logical, but that doesn’t mean it makes any sense,” said the Headmaster, spearing a potato with his fork. “He’s staying because of the football team.”
His wife looked shocked. “I know Mr. Klapper despises football, but I can’t believe he would take it out on our team.”
“He isn’t taking anything out on them, Mildred. He’s coaching them.”
She stared. “You must be mistaken.”
The Headmaster shook his head. “Mrs. Davis says that his office in the Ministry calls at least five or six times every day. I’m positive that he either won’t answer his phone or has disconnected it. He’s hiding out here, Mildred! We’re harbouring a fugitive from the Ministry of Education!”
“Are you sure he isn’t perhaps a little behind in his work so he’s forced to remain?” she suggested.
“How would that explain the fact that I just saw him at the stadium conducting a drill in pass defence? No, Mildred. The man has run amok over football again.”
“If that’s true, you must speak with him, William. People listen to you.”
Mr. Sturgeon put down his knife and fork with a clatter, shaking his head vehemently. “I wouldn’t touch this situation with the proverbial ten-foot pole.”
“But you must!” she insisted. “The last time this happened, poor Mr. Klapper practically ruined his life!”
He nodded sadly. “And now he’s out to ruin mine.”
* * *
A miniature pink paper airplane sailed across the auxiliary guest cottage living room and nosedived into the wastebasket. There it lay, wings crumpled, amid the wreckage of many others, an entire day’s worth of messages from Mr. Greer.
Kevin Klapper fitted a sheet of Ministry letterhead into his printer and opened his laptop.
Dear Mr. Greer
,
Just a little update on the many exciting things I’m doing at Macdonald Hall. The geography program is excellent. Using the Frummet-Zinkerstein method, they begin the course with …
He then began to hit keys at random, typing up nonsense words for about three lines, before resuming the letter:
… using, of course, overhead projectors. You may remember this from The Canadian Association of Geographical Thinkers (C.A.G.T.) seminar entitled: “Think Geographically, and You’ll Always Know Where You Are.”
He clicked
and watched with satisfaction as the page emerged from the portable ink-jet. Then he picked up a bottle of soy sauce and smeared the dark liquid liberally over the gibberish. For good measure, he put a little blotch over the name “Frummet-Zinkerstein.”
At the bottom, in pen, he scribbled:
It is all quite fascinating, but as you can understand, my time is limited. Even this letter is being written as I eat my lunch. I will keep you posted on my progress
.
He signed with a flourish and, just for good measure, added a few grease spots from a forkful of chow mein. Then he carefully addressed an envelope to the wrong office at the Ministry, affixed insufficient postage and rushed out to mail it.
Cathy Burton was back and better than ever, which meant that Elmer Drimsdale had recovered from the flu. He was back attending classes and working with his bush hamsters. The practices were even tougher, with Kevin Klapper firmly at the helm, preparing the Warriors for their next contest. The defence
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