Omigosh, it's Miss Bowring, my Grade Seven English teacher.
"I read yesterday's entry on--what is it called?--your blog."
Yes, Miss Bowring.
"Blog. Another of those four-letter words. Ugh. Disgusting. Sounds like a bodily excrescence."
I didn't make it up, Miss Bowring.
"No, I suppose even that would test your limited imagination. But what I have come to speak sternly about is your mangling of an adverb. You wrote 'all ready,' when clearly it should have been 'already'."
Mea culpa.
"Don't try any of those fancy phrases on me, young man."
Okay, my bad.
"And then, after your egregious, might I say, inexcusable error, you thrust upon us your lame witticism about losing your marbles. Now, do you have anything to say for yourself?"
I do have a question.
"Yes. Go on."
Did you ever date Mr. Playfair?
"Why, you young wretch! You miserable scamp! Down to the principal's office with you, and no ViCo at recess time! Out of my sight, you diphthong, you split infinitive, you dangling participle, you fractured syntax, you...."
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