Homework Blues

  As I shuffled into the classroom, I knew that Mr. Van Camp would never believe me. I looked at my scuffed shoes and mumbled, " My homework is not done, Sir. I do have a good excuse though."
  Mr. Van Camp scowled as he looked up from the papers he was marking. "This is not the first time your homework has not been completed. Perhaps," he suggested, "it's time to speak with your parents."
     "Please, you have no idea what will happen to me if you phone my home," I moaned.
     "Well, let's hear your excuse. It better be good." I responded in a quiet voice, "Well, Mr. Van Camp, I was sitting at home, about to retrieve my homework out of my backpack to complete it."
     "This sounds like a waste of my time already!"
     "Just wait! It gets worse." I tried to explain, "All of a sudden, I was brutally attacked by a group of short, stocky Mexicans!"
  Mr. Vancamp just laughed. "I do believe that that could be the worst excuse I have ever heard in my life!"
     "But, Mr. Vancamp, you handsome teacher, it is the truth!" I tried my best to get back on his good side.
  He paid no attention to me. I was in a heap of trouble now. He looked down at me with a threatening look on his face and scoffed, "As I said, I will be emailing your parents about this!"
     "No, please! They will be so ashamed of me!" I coughed in a panic.
  He didn't seem to care. He was amused by my sense of terror. "Should have thought of that before then, shouldn't you?" He chuckled under his breathe, and started to walk out of the room. "Good day!"
     "Thanks a lot, Vancamp."