Out of the Mouths of Not-Quite-Babes...

The juiceboxes--pierced as they were by miniature straws ensuring the free-flow of their sugary fluidic contents-- provided hours of mildly nutritious and, oddly enough, thought-provoking slaking to the lipless horde of Ms. Slipnut's 3rd Hour English Class; her thoughts on the matter--considering each student's continued trouble with the 'pesky' schwa and, hence, their inability to move forward in their Spellers--was best to keep their maws occupied. An unexpected consequence to the daily collective cacophonous slurping--a sound akin to that of a man trying to pass a sheared and greased boar through a length of industrial-sized PVC tubing using only his guile, a prayer, and the oversized boot upon his right foot--brought smiles to all faculty and administrative staff that came within earshot of this post-modern 'symphony.' On a musically-related note, it even inspired the day-time custodian--whose Muse was suddenly roused from a decade's long booze and head injury-fueled 'coma'--to compose his self-proclaimed Masterpiece, "Kids Sans Lips Shant Suckle nor Sip" for three jugs, an oboe, and Fat Albert-inspired Radiator-as-Squeezebox.

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