Tuesday, December 30, 2008
I call it the StompCycle
Somehow I missed this Botjunkie post in time to put on my Christmas Wish List. It would have been right at the top. My "Too Cool" rating at school would move up from the 2.5 it's been hovering at for the past two years to a 10 plus.
We start school before the sun comes up and I can only imagine the sight of me coming down the dark suburban road riding my two legged, fire breathing machine that escaped from a Tim Burton remake of Star Wars. I'd build in two honkin big speakers and play Flight of the Valkyrie. Full Blast. Cars would pull over and mothers would shield their children as I stomped by.
I'd cut my hair into a Mad Max style Mohawk. Trade my corduroy in for distressed leather and rivets. Rivets on my black jacket. Rivets on my over sized Doc Marten boots with the unnecessary but oh so menacing extra straps. I'd even have specialized rivets on the flye of my fire retardant canvas jeans. Rivets that would require a special motorized Black and Decker power tool to open. I'd have to a take tool box with me to the restroom that would send the normal, non-scary teachers running from the stalls with newspapers in hand muttering, "I think I'll just save my business for later."
Most likely, I will change my name to Dragon Lord as Mr. G doesn't sound mean enough. I'd walk into the classroom smoke still curling around my head and shoulders."Get to Work!" Is all I'd say and the children would rush to their tasks. Tasks and assignments they would create their own selves. Because they wouldn't dare bother me for anything as mundane as classwork or homework. It would take all responsibility for learning off my shoulders. My principal would bring me cups of coffee and tasty little finger sandwiches for lunch. In fact, she would offer to do my lunch duty for me as my presence in the cafeteria would cause the children to lose their appetite and the milk to curdle.
Daily I'd stand in front of the room with my arms crossed. Probably because sitting with rivets in one's pants might be slightly ouchy. Staring straight ahead as though I could see into the depths of a smoldering underworld where Hephaestus himself hammers out machines such as the one I ride. My portable music system built into the head of a rhinoceros skull would sit at my feet and belt out the harsh sound of obscure European metal bands until it was time for me to stomp home. In the twilight. Shooting flames.
Discipline problems? None. (Did you not see my StompCycle?)
Evaluations? Perfect Scores. (My principal brings me coffee and I evaluate her!)
Parent Conferences? Perfect. (I tell my parents to fix their wayward children and they do.)
Early Retirement with a generous buyout? Likely. (My methods work but are a little overwhelming for the timid of spirit.)
Watch the video and live in fearful anticipation for the day that Mr. Dragon Lord gets his own pimped out StompCycle!
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[Image captured from Botjunkie: Robodogoflameocycle: http://www.botjunkie.com/2008/12/10/robodogoflameocycle/]"