Inspector Gadget

or so I was called with my trenchcoat and hat today. Sadly, I've been called that since Matthew Brodrick did his role in the live action version of a 24 minute cartoon series. I have more freckles than skin and sinister look with a perpetually unshaven face, short brown hair which had been red and a decades-old strained deep voice, nearly as hairy as Robin Williams. I don't see it. Also, Matthew Brodrick ... have you ever seen him fat? No, you haven't. I am.

Speaking of hair, I haven't had a child rub my arm hair lately in true wonder as to how guys have hair -- on their arms. They've never seen a man close up, sometimes better. I have, however had a fourth grader very happy with herself that she is taller than I am. She gets a kick out of it, but unlike her regular teacher, she couldn't lift me. Even at a fitter weight, she wouldn't be able to lift me.

My closing prior to a break was met with, "I'm gonna give you a mean look for a week" as I wasn't able to work for her, and a complimentary candy bag for a nice woman whose class I might have accidently gipped while subbing -- in that I usually drop off token candy to nice students in classes. She retires this year -- while young and will see many a wonderous rising and setting Atlantic sun. My note ... written is haste might have been as scattered and illegible as a nervous bank robber or doctor's too-busy quick note. Ba ba ba, ba ba Barino?!

Retiring ... something I have eliminated as a possiblity. What to do ... what to do? Continue with this ... maybe some permanency or something else, fresh, consistent. I just don't know. If only I were a gadget packed Inspector, though my aggressive tendencies would lend itself more toward Punisher than Mo-meets-Harpo Inspector Gadget.

I still would like to work as a threat analyist. That's not likely to happen.