Wednesday's Words on a Friday
The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over by a moveable feast of participants when Delores had computer troubles. Sadly, Delores has now closed her blog forever due to other problems.
The aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to mind.
If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please let us know so we can come along to read it and add a few encouraging words.
This month the words/prompts are supplied by Margaret Adamson & Sue Fulcher and can be found here
This week's words/prompts are:
Here is my story:
Mr Mueller had announced in a whisper that he was once again experiencing a bout of Veisalgia and although he was feeling really awful, he thought it his duty to make an appearance and torture the boys through this week’s gym session.
Torture seemed to be his favourite method anyway and the boys remained stoic throughout the usual fast-paced- quick reflexes, obey all orders one hour rope-climbing, vaulting and tumbling lesson. The constant brisk tap-tap-tapping of the ferrule on his cane didn’t seem to bother Mr Mueller half as much as it annoyed the boys.
Later, in the Dining Hall, Simon informed the boys that he had looked up the meaning of Veisalgia and found it to be nothing more than a hangover. “The old dog has simply had too much to drink!” he declared. At this announcement he could see resentment brewing on the boys faces and suggested a meeting in the library after school hours.
They all agreed and seated themselves around the biggest table at seven o’clock and began sounding out their ideas for revenge. “I’d like to clap him in irons and suspend him over a waterfall,” said George. “All this time I thought Veisalgia was some terrible disease that he might die from,” said Timothy, “he shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it. It is his own choice to drink so much and not our fault at all.”
“But what can we do?” asked Edwin, looking up from his Math homework. “We can make him suffer,” said Henry, “as he has made us suffer so many times. Always doing the routine in complete silence isn’t natural, and I say we should make as much noise as we like at the next lesson.” “That won’t work if he doesn’t have a hangover,” said Barry. “He does have one more often than he used to,” said Robert, “perhaps he is an alcoholic and has little control over how much he drinks, like once he gets started he can’t stop until he falls off his stool, like my Uncle Jeff.”
“Then he shouldn’t be coming to school the next day!” said Simon, “I suppose the Headmaster has already noticed his behaviour.” “I did notice him watching Mr Mueller,” said George. “Any other suggestions?” he looked pointedly at the few boys who had sat quietly throughout. He could see they weren’t too keen on breaking any rules, but something had to be done, in his opinion. “Philip? Frank?” The youngest boy, James, spoke up. “I suggest throwing the rulebook to the winds and creating the biggest fiasco we can. I say we ask the cheerleading team to burst in and cheer for us each time we complete a round of each exercise. My sister is on the team, she’ll agree, I know she will.”
“Great idea!” said George. “They can hide behind that enormous Ilex until we begin and then just cheer from the double entrance doors.” “Which one is the Ilex?’ said Philip. “The Holly,” said James. Ilex is the horticultural name for Holly.”
“Alrighty then!” said Simon. “That’s our plan. Now, who’s up for raiding the kitchen for more of that indigo coloured gelato.” A chorus of “me, me” followed and they all trooped out of the library heading for the kitchen. Simon’s mother was one of the cooks and he knew where she kept her keys.