Both me and Weenerman straighten up at the sound of the voice.
We turn to see a black patent shoe tapping rhythmically on the concrete floor of the garage. The shoe is attached to a somewhat tallish woman with hair tinted to a blondish-hue. Streaks of white run through her hair despite the tinting.
Weener-Man finally breaks the momentary silence, "Mrs Sumner." he offers a greeting.
"You haven’t forgotten me," Mrs Sumner remarks.
"How could we," Weener-Man tries to explain, "You were our favorite teacher."
"Really," I try to add creditability to HM’s claim.
"Sure, Right," Mrs Sumner commnets.
The Weenerman has us in a rut, and he keeps digging away, "We were just passing by the neighborhood when we saw the advertising, and decided to stop in and see for ourselves these amazing bargains."
Mrs Sumner says with a straight-face "The latest I heard was the term, Junk."
"Ah, but to the contrary," Weener-man protests, "the precise we termed we used was, Junque."
"Didn’t sound like it to me," Mrs Sumner figures, but she catches herself, "So of all things, I meet up with two of the key players in the Clover County Irregulars once again."
"Ahh Mrs Sumner, that was one scene in a school play," the Weenerman frowns, "For the Annual Primary School Assembly."
"And that’s been a few years ago by now," I point out.
Mrs Sumner is tapping her foot once more, "And by now most of the Clover County Irregulars have moved on and are doing something worthwhile, some even have real jobs."
HM WeenerMan catches himself, and stammers, "W-w-w-wothful?" he asks.
"J-j-job?" I reflexively cough out.
Mrs Sumner rolls her eyes, "Even Greg and Ernie, well, they have shirts with their names-tags sewed on them, but for you guys, the Return of my Worthless Wonders."
HM smiles broadly, "Why thank-you Mamm, and as for yourself?"
"Still teaching?" I ask quickly.
"Not as much," Mrs Sumner replies.
"You haven’t given up the teaching profession on account of us?" Hm Weenerman asks.
"Hardly," Mrs Sumner reflexively taps her foot again, "Actually, I went to night school, and worked dmy way up to Principal."
"Ah yes, you would serve well as Assistant Principal," Weenerman engages the charm.
Mrs Sumner stops, "Assistant Principal my foot, I’m the head-honcho, the top-banana at the Township Exempted Elementary!"
"Principal-in-Chief?" Weenerman is surprised.
"In charge of it all," Mrs Sumner says.
"Well then, congratulations," Weenerman starts, but inadvertantly knocks over a vase of plastic flowers.
"Enough!" Mrs Sumner announces, "You two are the reason I had to start coloring my hair, now you Klutzes, into those chairs," she points to two BisCayne chairs set at either corner of the garage.
Out of habit, Weenerman and I go to the designated chars and set ourselves down.
"Amongst my other duties," Mrs Sumner begins, "Kids seem much better behaved these days, but in my spare time, I’m trying to clear up some of the cold cases in the Principal’s File."
"C-cold cases," I manage to say under my breath.
But Weenerman is in full form, "Fire away Mrs Sumner," he offers with his friendliest smile,"Always glad to be most cooperative."