Sauced Teacher

Barbecue sauce, that is.  David-of-the-winsome-grin held up his barbecue sauce packet and said, “Hep, peas.”  So I hepped.  I took the slimy little packet from his slimy little hand, grasped it tightly and attempted to tear the end.  Apparently David had been working on the packet for quite some time — with his teeth.  Barbecue sauce oozed out of a gazillion little holes.  David laughed gleefully.   I went to bathe.

7 thoughts on “Sauced Teacher

  1. Morgan — you do NOT want me to fish them out of the cafeteria garbage can. Trust me on this.

    Polona — 100% wash-n-wear, plus we keep a bottle of stain remover beside the laundry basket.

    Pauline — please don’t encourage Morgan. He already jumps off cliffs of his own free will.

  2. What ever happened to the good ol’ days of squeeze bottles!? Does EVERYTHING have to come in a packet these days??? Quilly… at least you look good in red!

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