My makers have gone to the dogs...

So there I was minding my own buisness, when all of the sudden out of nowhere this dog appears at my door to the classroom. Usually this wouldn't bother me and I would just curse at it in Samoan in it would leave, but this time was different. The dog really irratated me for some reason. So I decide not to interupt my scholarly dialouge with the student I was talking to and just huck a dry erase marker at it. Now my markers have been dying like Iraqis in "sectarian violence." I don't really know what sectarian violence means. I think it is something like "better you guys then us honkys." Anyways my markers have been dying, a lot, partially due to them being left uncapped after compositions of whiteboard impressionistic murals. One of my students suggested burrying all my dead markers in the back. Another replied we didn't have enough top soil...
Back to the dog. I'm trying to teach while this dog is about to mark my classroom as its territory. Now I've had dogs do lots of things, including a dog that came into my classroom while we were in the computer lab and drop a deuce. No way was this dog gonna mark my classroom. So I hucked the dryerase marker in my hand at him, not intending to hit him, merely scare him a little. So I missed the dog and the impact of the marker with the ground scared it away. I continued with my mathematical discourse, only to have the student interupt me and tell me the dog had my marker. I told him that "Yes I tossed the marker at the dog." He reiterated his previous statement with more inflection. So I went outside and that female dog was walking away with my marker in its mouth. I walked back into my classroom with a feeling much like prehistoric man probably felt when coming home from a fruitless hunt. My kids noticed the look on my face and questioned what was up. I told them what happened, they encouraged me to knuckle up with the dog. (This story needs a good ending. Its kinda dwindled in the last few seconds) Instead of attacking the dog I chose a different route. I yelled, "fire" really loud and gayly. Captain Planet appeared from the sky and smited the dog for not recycling that marker. It was pretty bad hootus.

Paul "not the Welsh politician that might be working in a laundry mat" Murphy