Every morning he stands at the crossing. A barrier between the children and their education.
Two children approach, very eager, can’t wait to get to school and present themselves before the school crossing supervisor. Dressed in his sparkling white coat with his red striped vest with the reflective bands.
“None Shall Pass” he says.
“What?”
“None Shall Pass” he says again in a deeper and louder voice.
“But please, we just want to go to school, you know to learn”
“None Shall Pass” he booms, and as the children reach for the button for the traffic lights, the school crossing supervisor leaps at them swinging his stop sign and cutting their hands from their wrists.
That’ll teach the little shits.
It’s little wonder the little llamas think I’m strange.