The Story of Lump Potato

Sooooo... N asks  

fishing for a story.  

That's a pun, folks, N lives to fly..............fish. Chk Chk  boom! 

What's Ed been up to lately? 

. 

We are four teachers assigned to the shooting team. 

Yeeeees  

our school has a shooting team 

vastly successful a skeet squad. 

We are a strange conglomerate comprising:  

the BS         (Border-line Spectrum)  

the AFL         (Anti-Football League) 

the 3G         (Gifted Geeky Geniuses) 

the SS         (Farm Kids - can't tell you what SS stands for teeheehee 

but not what you think!) 

-twenty five-odd students. 

We are just returning from the RAAF base - we have been training. 

N slyly slips in the aforementioned- Sooooo...etc.... 

I decide to tell them about Lump Potato. Oh!  

Oh, shit! 

I am already laughing. 

And I haven't told you anything yet hehehehehehe 

hahahahahaha. 

Oh. Oh. O.K.  

Caaaalm. Caaaalm.  

Yoga-breathing ommmm ahhhhh.  

Right. Here we go. 

I begin my tale - shuffle facts casually         lay down cards confidently. 

F is interjecting         

adding his own inimitable rapscallion take on everything. 

K is objecting         

seeing the denigration of males where there is none intended. 

N is smiling         

shyly pleased he has instigated instantaneous ruckus.  

I am laughing         stuttering         spluttering 

I can't get to the punchline: aaaaaand aaaaaand thennnn

Ed Ed Ed saaaaaays... 

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. 

F is guffawing        slapping his thighs. 

K is trying to look stoic         

well above our childish shenanigans. 

N is looking back nervously         

but grinning maniacally. 

The students are statuesque         gawky-gecko-eyed         wondering  

-what the??? 

These clowns?  

Responsible? 

For us? 

We is!         Watchagonnadoaboutit? Huh? Huh? 

Good thing we know the drill 

they must be thinking. 

We'll sort things out back at school while these... 

Dodos roll around hugging themselves. 

I am still trying to spit out the punchline  

when we arrive. 

The students file past, dignified, mature, po-faced, disapproving. 

I follow them, trying to re-establish self-possession. 

I still haven't delivered the punchline. 

Doesn't matter hahahahahaha. 

Not that funny anyway. 

Hawhawhawhawhawhawhawhawhawhawhawhawhaw.