Audacity

Cleaning up the classroom after the kids had scuttled off, I found a crumpled note.

As a rule, I always open crumpled notes.

Sometimes they are gross dirty drawings.
Sometimes they are pointless doodles.
And sometimes they are pure gold.

Today was pure gold.

The note read, in big, bold marker,

DEAR MRS. BLACKBURN,

THE 80s CALLED. 

THEY WANT YOU BACK.

Are those kids rude or what?  How dare they accuse me of living in the 80s?  Where would they even get all of that false information?  SUCH NERVE!

Okay.  So the accusations might not be COMPLETELY false.

But still.

THE NERVE!