|The scene of the crime|
I told them the name of the teacher I would be substituting for (for six weeks!) and one of the kids started laughing maniacally.
"What?" I said, my joy dampened for a moment. What could be so funny?
"It sounded like you said you were substituting for Mrs., uh, haha... Mrs... H-word."
I should have left it there. You would think I have been around enough seven year olds to leave it there.
But I said, "What if her name was Mrs. Hell!?"
Hahahahaha. The car erupted in gales of laughter. Everyone had a round of saying, "Mrs. Hell!" and bouncing around in their seats.
The laughter died and the car eventually grew silent. Eerily contemplative.
And I couldn't tell you who said it, because it suddenly came from all directions.
"Don't say it," I said, warningly. "Please don't say it."
"Dooooooon't say it."
Then a tiny voice from the far back piped up... "Mrs. Fuck."
"DO NOT SAY IT!"
But it was too late, the Mrs. Fuck horse was completely out of the barn and rampaging around the meadows.
At this rate I'm going to be a great long term substitute. Better than Mrs. Shit anyway.