A song by Good Ol’ What’s His Name was on a stereo in the other room, familiar even if not fully heard. A whirring rotor out front executed grass blades. Rita, once president of this great nation, ordered pizza as Eric failed to make peace with himself. That was the thing with Eric. When he applied for a position as a history lecturer at Peltt Academy, he did not have to appear before an administrator in grey wool cheviot as Rita told him he might, let alone explain what she had prepped him to explain: how a student who believed x of the Central Bank would have to be reeducated to y, or why the Orinoco was the best illustration of alluvial agriculture. Instead he was taken into a bare room by a woman of high status and short stature. “If you are big enough to throw a horse,” she said, “if you have ever put a hammer on a man your size or licked a villain in a way that saved the town, well, then, mister, you are hired.” Eric could not take in his good fortune. He began to falter and she came up under his arm like a puncheon and held him upright. He was then a fixture at the school even if he had never known the difference between medieval and Dark Ages and could not explain it to a single student. Parents had already begun to question his methods and he meant to raise the issue with Rita as soon as the pizza arrived.
©2021 Ben Greenman/Stupid Ideas
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