No One is Perfect

The group of young campers stood in a line before the desk of Camp Supervisor, Longstride,” Okay, tell me what happened,” Longstride said, trying to look concerned.

“He kilt him,” the youngster closest to the desk said. Jerry, smooft him. His pronunciation was severely hindered by the elongated incisor’s overbite.

“Yeah, he was weally dead,” the youngest member of the group chimed in with his usual rhotacism. Even the twins, who criticized everything, had begun to accepted his impediment without rolling their eyes. “Weally dead,” he repeated.

“I never seen him down there,” the young giraffe said. A look of innocence and regret accompanied the outburst.

“SAW him,” the twins said as a chorus.

Miss Evans smiled. She was a stickler for proper English. Nodding her head she absent mindedly showed her approval of the twin’s correction.

“I’m sure he didn’t purposefully harm the little guy,” Supervisor Longstride, said to Miss Evans, after dismissing the youngsters with simple instructions to be more careful, and to watch where they were going.

He rose from the ergonomic, faux leather chair, and went to the window. to watch his earlier audience returning to the playground.

“Kids are so predictable,” he said “They do not realize they all have faults, so what do they do? They hide their feelings by finger-pointing, thereby drawing attention to someone else to keep the attention from them.”

Smiling, he remembered his college professor’s prediction. “Issues will arise for which you have no plan.” The accidental “smooshing” of a beetle, due to the anatomy of a young giraffe, confirmed that prophesy.

By Dresdin Fear

From: United States

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