"Dear Intellectual Ninja Warriors, er, I mean IB Seniors:
Yesterday afternoon, my work having been finished, I sauntered into the Newtown Starbucks for a cup of Joe. Sidling up to the counter, I ordered a double caramel mochiatto with extra froth, carob shavings and a healthy dollop of skimmed goat cheese. Settling into a peaceful reverie, I reflected on the upcoming IB examinations and the wonderful group of students with whom I have had the privilege to work. Quietly and without warning, a man stole alongside my table and disturbed my reverie. He was about six feet in height, slender with a cruel reptilian scar bisecting his cheek. "I think that those GS IB kids are done. They will stop working." His fetid, garlic scented breath hung in the space between us like a demented butterfly.
Now I am a Quaker, a peaceful and gentle man, but he had hit me hard with those terrible words. Jumping from my seat, I looked him straight in the face, and I spat out these words. "Take it back, I cried, take it back or I'll fill your boxer shorts with chipotle paste and then I'll add a handful of ants to the mix and see how you like it, why I'll take three sharp slices of sharp cheddar cheese and I'll layer them with cracker crumbs and I'll make you eat them all at once so that they stick to the roof of your mouth and I won't give you a glass of milk or anything, why, I'll fill your penny loafers with desiccated beetles and I'll put them back on your feet and make you walk from here to the Newtown Racquetball Club, why, I'll go to your mother's house and I'll surreptitiously punch tiny pinholes in her tubes of toothpaste so that when you visit her on holidays and brush your teeth after eating the white paste will ooze out and stain your shirts, why I'll take you up to the top of the hill and I'll wrap you in a sheet of moldy burlap and I'll pull the sheet real hard and spin you down the hill like a humanoid gyroscope, why I'll take a long piece of licorice and I'll thread it up your left nostril and down your throat and I'll wrap it around your uvula so tight that it will wiggle like a spent pink moth, why I'll make a tuna sandwich but I'll use the dark tuna meat and I won't put any mayo in it and I'll serve it to your wife on your anniversary, why I'll..." At this point, the man seemed overwhelmed. He pleaded with me to stop, "Take it back", I screamed again, "take it back or I'll..." In the faintest voice, he whispered to me, "I take it back. Those GS IB students will keep working hard right up to and through the IB examinations."((alternative from a different letter))
Contented now, I leaned back in my seat and contemplated the peaceful bucolic Newtown scenery revealing itself to me in the Starbucks window.
Sincerely,
Ralph Lelii"
Back to Quotes
