A Valentine’s Mix-up
She was a tall, lean brunette, and best of all Miss Haney was single. Now, that’s a might bit important when yer a 4th-grader and sweet on yer teacher. After all, a fella would have to be lower than a snake’s belly to snatch his teacher from her man.
But I knowed I could’ve done it. It done showed in her eyes that day in class whilest I was a workin’ on my paint picture and she up and puts her hand on my shoulder and commenced to make polite conversation.
"That’s an interestin’ paintin’," says she. "What is it?" Talk about slick as a greased hog. Why, she knowed what it was; she ‘uz just doin’ her level-headed best to find somethin’ to say so’s to steal a little extry time with me.
She could tell I was paintin’ one of them sissy white poodles fer her. Land-a-Goshen, she done told me once that them piddley little dawgs was her most favorite kind of animal in the whole world, an I kind a taken that as a hint to do the paintin’.
I just had to spot a way to let Miss Haney know that I was real sweet on her, too. Valentine’s Day was a comin’ and that seemed as good a time as any to learn her of my feelin’s.
I figerd I could conjure up one of my special homemade cards. Heck! I was a fixin’ to make a insultin’ card fer my older sister, the "frog." Whilest I was at it, I could make a syrupy-nice one fer my teacher (women folk like them kinds a things).
I set to work on my project the weekend ‘fore Valentine’s Day. Secretly, I gathered the necessaries: glue, colored paper, scissors, and markers. Then, I stole away to my bedroom, being careful to lock the door.
I commenced to worrying over some poems, which was a rattlin’ in my noggin’. "Hmmm," I says to myself, "How about:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue
I seen dead carcasses,
Purttier than you.
That one would be perfect for Tammy, my sister. What I most needed now was somethin’ just the opposite for Miss Haney’s valentine:
Like the roses God has made,
Which glisten in the dew,
And petals soft, their velvet touch
Reminded me of you.
Of all creations God has made,
Yer His finest deed,
And the day you come into my life,
He truly done blessed me.
Perfect! Why, that poem’s so sickenin-sweet it just had to be good.
I was kind of a no-account when it come to artistry type work; so, fer cards, I cut out a pair of foldin’ red hearts, great biguns, and on the insides I printed the sayin’s I plucked from my brain.
Lookin’ at the settin’ sun, I realized I was a runnin’ late fer a game of kick-the-can with the fellas. So I just slapped them valentines into envelopes and figured’ I’d sign ‘em later, maybe in the mornin’.
I done woked up late come daylight and was in the most awfullest hurry to get to school. Well, I wasn’t payin’ ‘tention and as blind as them three mice, I grabbed them envelopes and stuffed one of ‘em in my notebook, ta other, I done slid under Tammy’s bedroom door.
After a settin’ Miss Haney’s valentine in the box on her desk, I sat down and begun to fill with the most terriblest fear I ever did feel. I done fergot to sign both cards. How could Miss Haney know ‘twas me who wrote that there gushy card if’n I fergot to sign the blame thing?
Then I figerd it out; she’s a right smart lady, she’ll be keepin’ track of who put their "John Hancock" on the valentines and after worrin’ the horns off a billygoat over it, she’d figer twas me who fergot to put my chicken scratch on her card.
At supper time, kin was gathered to the table a chewin’ the fat over the day’s happenin’s. Fer reason, my sister had been just as sweet as pie to me all afternoon...it was spooky!
"Everybody," says Tammy at the table, "I want to share with you a special valentine card I received under my bedroom door this mornin’." Them vittles I’d just swallered lodged in my throat as Tammy began a readin’ the mushy lines from ‘er card.
Next mornin’, I hustled off to school a hopin’ to get there before the other knot-headed kids and explain to Miss Haney about the mix-up.
As I came a barrelin’ ‘round a corner of the school, I like ta have froze as I seem my teacher a standin’ at the front doors and a smoochin’ some guy fer a good length of time. 'Twas a pity, twaaaaas a pity. That po’ heart-broke gal was so crushed by that valentine; she bounded right into the arms of another man.
What hurts even more than losin’ Miss Haney to a stranger though, was havin’ to tolerate my sister bein’ sweet to me-that could bust a guy’s reputation you know.