Category Archives: humor

Teaching Bouncy Band Bunnies

Friday, October 25th was my first full-day substitute teacher job. I was supposed to cover for the assistant band director at Barbara Bush Middle School in Irving, Texas. It was a long day of work, but it was supposed to be an easy day, watching the band director conduct his classes and doing whatever little helpful thing the band director asked me to do.

Easy is not a word that is normally associated with teaching. So, naturally, everything that could go wrong, did go wrong, and a few things that couldn’t go wrong went wrong just for good measure.

The day started with rain. It was a slogging jog from home to my daughter’s high school, dropping her off early to get some extra project work time in before school. Then I had to drive all the way through Coppell to the eastern edge of Irving which somehow gets to be in our school district even though it is two cities to the west away. Dallas drivers in the rain… eeeyaaah! I almost died on the road twice, missing only by inches.

And, of course, when I got there, the secretary in charge of subs was not there. I was given the wrong sub folder by the other secretary. It turned was out that the band director himself was out too. So, there were two non-musical subs for six classes of music and a homeroom. And band directors have no idea how to provide work for kids when they can’t use their instruments. We were given an assignment online for kids to do on their Chromebooks. It was an assignment that, at best, would last for five minutes out of the fifty-minute class periods. Well, they did tell us to let them amuse themselves with games on the Chromebooks when they were finished (because, of course, 6th, 7th, and 8th graders never misuse the internet, meaning lots of walking around looking at screens to identify those things that SHOULD NOT BE THERE).

My co-sub was a very polite Indian lady who was working her first sub job and had no teaching experience.

So, with the potential for total chaos and disaster set, I had to basically take over and manage the baby-sitting festival for the day. We did get one significant break. The high school band director from the high school associated with Bush came in to direct the two concert band classes, and they worked on their music. Band directors of high schools are all masters of the art of teaching. We watched him work for two hours, 3rd and 4th periods. It was fantastic. He could stop off-task behavior with a mere look. He only had one horsey bunny give him any trouble, and he basically stapled that kid to his tuba with mere words and threats of that special band-director-kind that only band students can truly imagine to the full extent of its potential horror. Both of us subs congratulated him on his impressive teaching skills and thanked him for the pain and sweat he saved us from.

In the meantime… that mean time when we had to keep sixth graders full of bouncy-bunny Friday energy in their seats and unable to damage anything, kill anybody, argue with pocket knives and stabby pencils, or any other nightmarish thing that fevered little bunny brains could potentially conceive, we kept them in their seats (mostly), settled disputes (without yelling at them or hitting anybody), dealt with uncharged and non-working Chromebooks (mostly thanks to band hall outlets and the chairs near them), and kept them busy (at one point challenging kids to drawing contests in which I gave them paper and shut them up with my cartooning skills).

It was an exhausting day. But also wonderful, in its own way. One girl thought I looked like Santa Claus on the old Coca-Cola Christmas ads. Two or possibly three kids were smart enough to laugh at my jokes. And the day was completed with no casualties. I look forward to doing it again next week.

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Filed under humor, Paffooney, teaching

AeroQuest 2… Canto 40

Canto 40 – Sad Tidings at the Spaceport

When the space ship called Megadeath, the Rock and Roll Starship, docked at the now prosperous spaceport of the planet Don’t Go Here, they interrupted a solemn ceremony.  Administrator Bam-Bam Salongi was about to be buried in space.  His body, encased in a glass torpedo pod, was on display in Frieda’s central administration hub.  The relatively new crew of the space port was gathered around for testimonials and remembrances.

Frieda’s Metalloid form stood guard over the office.  The Dion girl named Taquira was kneeling by the foot of the makeshift coffin and Tabitha Blue Arrow, in Lady Knight armor, stood over the head of Bam-Bam’s final resting place.

Xavier Tkriashav entered the office first, shock registering on his dark, inscrutable face.  Behind him stood Captain Tommy Lee, Pilot Vince Niell, Nikki Sixx, and slack-jawed Cold Death.  All removed hats and became silent mourners.

“What has happened here?” asked Tkriashav.

“Fez Amin and the Monopoly Brigade,” said Frieda.  “He came here and killed Mr. Salongi and kidnapped Tara.  We killed one of his Lieutenants, but he used Tara as a shield to make his escape.  I’ve tried to organize pursuit, but we lost him completely in the Imperium.”

“We should not have left you vulnerable to attack,” said Tkriashav, shaking his head.

“We were unprepared for treachery,” said Tabitha, the Lady Knight.  “It will not happen again.”

“We have ships now to defend our home,” said the Dion, Taquira.  “We just don’t have any pilots to fly them.”

“We are outward bound now, to places where I know we will find a large number of willing spacers ready to come here and help get that problem solved, at least,” said Tkriashav.  “I have places to go where I know all kinds of Psions.  We might even see if we can strike an accord with the Nebulons we believe are migrating in mass towards this part of the Orion Spur.”

“You know,” said Tabitha, “you are opening your arms to all the peoples the Imperium loathes?”

“Yes,” said Tkriashav.  “That was the idea.  All us rejects will band together to make something far better than what Imperial Space has to offer.”

“You are a hopeless idealist, Psion Master,” said Tabitha Blue Arrow.

“Does that mean you will leave us and go back to the Imperium?” he responded.

“Of course not,” replied the Lady Knight.  “We need idealists as leaders.  It’s the reason I joined Cloudstalker’s Corsairs to start with.”

“You are good man, Psion Master,” hissed Taquira the Dion.  She switched her brown lizard’s tail.  “We like you a lot!”

“Tara wanted us to tell Ged Aero that she loves him,” said Frieda.  “I fear those may have been the last words we’ll ever have from her.”

“I will have some students I have to deliver to Ged on Gaijin,” said Tkriashav.  “I will tell him the grave news.”

An emerald-green female Galtorrian walked into the main office at that moment.  “Ged Aero, you sssay?” she hissed.  She was beautiful in a serpentine way, snake-eyed and tressed with flowing green hair.  She wore the uniform of the Imperial Scout Service.  “I must find Ged Aero.”

All eyes turned suspiciously to her.

“Why do you seek Ged?” asked Tkriashav.

“I must find the fulfiller of the Prophecy of Zhan!  I have sssearched for him for yearsss.  I mussst find him if it costssss me my life!”

“We shall see.  You will surrender all weapons and travel with me under guard,” said Tkriashav.

“Yesss, whatever I mussst do.  But, I mussst find him before hisss enemiesss do.”

The pheromones she gave off at that moment made every male present feel as if he must fall in love with her.  Xavier couldn’t help himself from feeling it too.  He tried to probe her, but she was apparently a Psion too, though not a type he recognized.        

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Filed under aliens, humor, novel, NOVEL WRITING, Paffooney, science fiction

More Illustrating AeroQuest

I am nearing the completion of the rewrite of part two of AeroQuest. Part of that is getting all the illustrations I want to include done. So, here are a few more that I have been working on.

For those who might be wondering, AeroQuest 1 and AeroQuest 2 are comic science fiction, and I have chosen to rewrite them with lots of illustrations since it is a work of fiction that I might’ve done as a graphic novel if only I didn’t have arthritis in my hands.

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Doing Mickey Stuff

I am basically a teacher at heart. It was the culmination of 18 years spent in school learning all the stuff it takes to be a teacher. And of course, when I got my first teaching job, I had to unlearn most of that and learn a whole new set of skills. Being a teacher is a juggling act, using fifteen different balls that will explode if you don’t keep them in the air all at the same time. And if you drop one, you will likely drop them all. You will become Reluctant Rabbit Fricassee, thoroughly over-cooked.

And the bad news for those who want to be a substitute teacher… that job is not easier unless you already possess all the teacher-juggling skills at the start.

Friday I performed a half-day of teaching, four classes of sixth graders supposedly learning history with their Chromebooks and current-events lessons online. So, the teaching was a matter of keeping them quiet and focused. I only got to use classroom management skills and a little bit of conflict-resolution skill. Not really the fun stuff. Not really the interactions and back-and-forth thinking-out-loud that I really enjoy about teaching.

But I love working with kids just like those. 90 percent Hispanic, with one black kid, one Vietnamese kid, and one handful of white kids. The whole school has the same demographic.

I did most of my teaching with the classroom door open. It helps when the kids know the assistant principals wandering the hallways and trying to look useful can hear what’s going on in the classroom. That worked for all but the last period class.

The second to the last period was the practically perfect class. No hassles. Only one lethal stink-eye used by me to quell a couple of the boys who apparently say hello by punching each other hard on the shoulder. The Vietnamese girl was a perfect little darling, the kind a teacher wants to keep and take along to the next job. But that would be kidnapping, and she was too smiley and sweet for that. And I never actively plan a kidnapping during a school day, only murders. And those, like the ones I planned in the next class, are only carried out in fiction.

The last class of the day is the nightmare class that puts the exclamation point on every day for poor Miss W, 6th Grade History teacher. Thirty-two kids, more than half of them boys, and at least five that I knew right away were hyperactive, hyper-kinetic, and rocket-fueled by the fact that it was the last period of the day on a Friday afternoon. They thought it was fun to throw things across the room at each other. So, I tried to collect them all in one table by the left classroom wall (it is always easier to watch one problem spot than four corners of the classroom at once). But multiple kids, even the few who were quiet, had forgotten their Chromebook chargers and the ones who did have theirs needed recharging at the end of the day too. So, practically everyone was plugged into the wall. And all the other boys in the room were willing to toss stuff back at the five musketeers whenever I wasn’t looking in their direction. Those are the real fun times. Notice the italics for purposes of conveying sarcasm. My first teaching day in over five years ended with a class that did not really accomplish anything but cleaning up the chaos before the last bell. We spent a good ten minutes at the end putting up and cleaning up and sucking up (especially the ones who wrote their names on my list of perpetrators. Only one of those tried to put someone else’s name. Thankfully, hyper-active boys will snitch on each other without prompting and I could triple-check the names of perpetrators before leaving a “please-execute-these-kids” note for Miss W.)

So, my first day back doing typical-Mickey stuff was a success. I enjoyed it. I didn’t kill anyone, so I didn’t have to worry about where the assistant principals bury the bodies every day. And I discovered a bunch of cute little learning-bunnies that I wouldn’t mind teaching again. (Especially that last class, so I might have a chance to get even a little bit.)

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Filed under humor, kids, Paffooney, rabbit people, self portrait, strange and wonderful ideas about life, teaching

Pictures In My Head

I do draw some pictures from models, photos, or other illustrations… but fantastical things that you can’t find a model for are what occur most often in my stupid head.

I was back in a classroom yesterday as a sub. 6th graders. It did look an awful lot like this, but I was holding another teacher’s giant pencil.
This is the ski-jump on Valwood Parkway in Farmer’s Branch. I merely changed the railroad tracks into a stream.
I taught all three of these kids when they were thirteen, but one in ’81, one in ’92, and one in ’94. Oh, and not on Mars.
No models were used in this picture, though I did know several blue children.
Done without a model, unless you believe 3″ tall fairies are a real thing.
No werewolf girls posed topless for this picture.
This classroom photo was entirely in my stupid old head, not in a school gymnasium full of snow.
Even the mountains in the background were drawn directly from my mind’s eye.
A lot of what I draw is merely emotional flim-floogery and provides a look inside of me that makes a portrait of me drawn even more naked and vulnerable than if I drew myself nude.

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Illustrating AeroQuest

As I am editing and rewriting my first published novel to turn it into a novel series of at least four books, I have been enjoying rounding up and editing old artwork to illustrate it. I have been taking advantage of the fact that you can, after a fashion, plug illustrations into the manuscript and have it come through as acceptably good in the final Amazon publication.

The story comes from adventure logs of a space-fantasy role-playing game called Traveller. I played the game with small handfuls of high school kids whose player characters are now the main characters of the story (after modifications and considerable censorship.

The illustrations, a lot of them, are drawings of the characters that I did in pen and ink back in the 1980’s.

We went through multiple generations of player characters, some of whom were practically immortal, and others that died horrible deaths after a few episodes.

Most of the acting in the RPG was done for humor’s sake, and so my Sci-Fi tale turns out to be more of comedy than anything else.

Amanda is Ged’s daughter, though the player was not related to Ged’s player.

Rescuing the novel from the sorry state it was in from being an awkward first attempt at publishing done with a publisher that later had to be sued and put on trial for fraud has been an interesting and rewarding experience. These stories will never be among my best works, but they were definitely a learning experience. And rewriting them is a learning experience itself, living the story all over again with significant changes.

The places are the same, but as a satire, they had to be re-named in many instances as the planet’s names and their make-up were copied from other books and movies. But they were rewritten by the players themselves as everything was turned into comedy and farce. Hence, the planet Mongo ruled by Emperor Ming, became the planet Mingo ruled by Emperor Mong. These are obvious references that are re-named in ways that give us a laugh or a wince.

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I doubt it is obvious by just looking at these drawings, but by reducing their size, the line drawings are improved to a high degree.

Illustrating AeroQuest has been fun. Maybe, at some point, it will even prove profitable. But ultimately, it is definitely a thing worth doing.

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Filed under comic book heroes, heroes, humor, illustrations, novel writing, Paffooney

Creating Another Cover

As I continue working on my work-in-progress, I get ideas for how I am going to make a cover for it. I have kicked around ideas and even tried executing a few of them. And when I say that, it doesn’t mean I literally kicked anything or shot anything in the head. I did drawings and thought seriously about how to put them together.

Remember this one? I drew this because my current novel has two people in it that claim they are actually dragons in human disguises.

One of those people is the girl Fiona Long, who goes by Fi most of the time. She is an aggressive red-headed girl who makes the boys cringe on occasion. She tells them her real name is Firefang, and she’s a red dragon wearing a human meat-disguise. Of course, the boys in Norwall, Iowa immediately believe her, because dragons are so common in Iowa.

So, I took these two image-ideas and slapped them together.

Oh, I forgot to mention, the story happens in 1976, the Bi-Centennial year, and the story climax happens during the 4th of July celebration.

I wasn’t really happy with how this first one looked, so I tried a second shot at putting them together in a slightly different manner.

Of course, the novel is not yet done. It is maybe only half done. So, for that reason, the cover does not have to be done also. And it does bother me a little that the title is The Boy… Forever, and yet, I have a picture of a girl and a dragon on the cover. Maybe Icarus needs to be in the picture too. Icarus Jones is the boy from the title. So, I need to work on that, and maybe redo the whole cover. We shall see. And that will make a possible future blog post too.

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AeroQuest 2… Canto 39

Canto 39 – Slinking Out of Paradise

Gaijin is one of the most beautiful worlds in human space according to those humans who have visited enough of them to compare.  Its lush, tropical-sea environment is pleasant always and fully climate-controlled by old Sylvani technology.  It has far fewer cold places than an Earth-like world such as Talos III or Martin Faulkner’s Dream.  It has more resources than an ocean-world like Dancer or Design where no land masses are present.  And its greatest features are the people themselves.  They are disciplined by the Bushido code, and beautified by the natural Sylvani grace.  It was no surprise, then, that Vince Niell and the crew of the Megadeath did not want to leave.

“I have to go to at least three other worlds,” argued Xavier Tkriashav.  “I have important missions to complete.  You have the only available spaceship on the planet.”

“Dude, like, we don’t got no orders from Ged boss-man,” said Vince Niell.  “This ship is his.”

“Ged is very busy now.  I am his friend and agent.  I tell you, I have important things to do for Ged Aero!”

“And we tell you, Psion Dude, that we don’t go to space for nobody but Ged Aero.”

Xavier smiled.  “Can you call him and ask?”

“Dude, we have commo units on board.  Did he take a walkie-talkie or a commo dot?”

“No.”

“Then ain’t no way we’re gonna move from this spot.”

Tkriashav looked at the stubborn rock-and-roll starship pilot.  He saw only two angry reflections of himself looking back from Vince’s mirrored sunglasses.  The hippie freak had started wearing a pair of red Moko-bird feathers in his hair as if he were some kind of Native American from ancient Earth.

“I am going to go and disturb Ged now, and get him to write a note to let me use this starship while he is training to be Gaijin’s new White Spider.”

“Sounds good to me, Daddy-o.”

Fuming, the turbaned Psion stalked back into the city, making his way swiftly through crowded streets to the Palace of One Thousand Years.

Ged was on the practice field with Junior, teaching martial arts.

“You were impressive in the arena,” Tkriashav said when Ged acknowledged his presence.  “Tell me, how is it you already know the martial arts they teach here?”

“It’s not something I’m proud of, but I absorbed it by eating the flesh of the man they called the Black Spider.  I inherited the ability to alter myself into the patterns of his finely trained muscles.  Muscle memory is the key to absorbing the skill.  Just like the instincts I’ve absorbed from animals I’ve eaten.”

“Did you actually eat one of those invisible cat things?”

“It was during an episode of survival training on the planet Samothrace when I was young.  I guess I had my powers even then, though I didn’t know it until the last few years.”

“It’s that kind of knowledge I need you to pass on to other Psions, Ged.  Do you mind if I use your starship to round up a couple of students for you?”

“I would be honored to serve,” said Ged with a bow.  “Teaching seems to come naturally too, though I don’t ever remember eating a teacher.”

Xavier laughed.  “I need a note for your crew, Ged.  They don’t want to leave this place.  They won’t take my word.”

“No problem.  Will you revisit Don’t Go Here?”

“Yes.  After completing the missions I have in mind.”

“Check on Tara for me.  Tell her I miss her.  And tell Ham about what’s happened here.  I want him to come here and learn about this place too.”

“I would be happy to.  You like it here, don’t you?”

“How could I help it?  I’m not a monster here.  I’m a hero to these people.  But I have to say, I don’t understand the praise any more than I understood the fear.” The message was quickly written, and within the hour, the Megadeath roared out of Gaijinese orbit, headed directly into trouble.

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The Dragon Within My Writing

The Chinese Dragon that I have drawn for today is a part of the planned cover illustration for my work in progress, The Boy… Forever.

But it is also more than that. The villain of the story claims to be a dragon in human form. And even though this may be a metaphor-like lie, it is an apropos symbol of the underlying conflict that informs almost all of my work. There is always, it seems, a hidden evil that is far more dangerous and life-consuming than it portrays itself as. The blizzard in Snow Babies, the real werewolf, the murderer, in The Baby Werewolf, suicidal depression in When the Captain Came Calling and Sing Sad Songs, and the serial killer in both Sing Sad Songs and Fools and Their Toys all kill other characters in my stories. They all bear the stamp of the evil dragon, magically powerful and dangerous in ways that guns alone cannot protect you from. They are evils embedded in human nature. They are the dragon that the White Knight of the story must defeat.

So, I show you this dragon today as a way of acknowledging my own dragons that must be fought.

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Filed under artwork, commentary, humor, metaphor, monsters, novel plans, Paffooney

Chicken-like Spaceships and Other Fantasy Sillyart

Ninja Chickens doing Chicken-Dance-Fu

These don’t actually qualify as Paffooneys because there is no story to go with them today. Just Mickey doing ridiculous pictures again .

Brekka the girl Telleron and her Man-Eating Plant

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