Lesson Nineteen: "Oh, Deere!"

            Sweat rolled off Jon’s head like beads of mercury running down an incline.  They glistened in the sunshine as the roar of the John Deere Gator echoed off the walls of the school. Moving at top speed, Jon was headed back to his office to unload the extractor, carpet cleaning tools and the “holy” rug that he’d ruined while cleaning an ink spot off it in the library.  The school principal, Vance, was out for blood when he realized that Jon had inadvertently splashed ink on the back of his light tan suit pants.  Thus, the reason he was moving at high speed; to escape Vance’s wrath.

            As Jon roared around the corner of the school, the rolled up, expensive, foreign, gifted-from-an-African-school area rug with a large hole in it flew off the back of the Gator.  It unfurled and flew like a magic carpet, the ends undulating in the breeze as it floated and fell to earth.  Jon glanced in his rearview mirror just in time to see it land on the pavement as a large Fed Ex delivery truck was leaving. The truck barreled over the rug.  In horror, Jon watched as the rug rolled around the large dual wheels on the back of the Fed Ex trailer and flopped around like an unwound slinky.  Unbeknownst to the driver, the rug became entangled in the undercarriage of the truck, but because the construction of the rug was nothing compared to the momentum, force and speed of the truck, it simply shredded and tore like tissue paper.  Chunks of the rug flew from underneath the truck as tattered faces of the animals which once graced its surface were left strewn on the road.  Jon’s heart sank like a millstone in the sea.

            Reaching his office, Jon quickly unloaded the carpet equipment.  Climbing back into the Gator, Jon’s plan was to get back to the shed where the Gator was stored and park it before Vance saw him. He just didn’t want any confrontation right now. 

            The Gator was stored in a shed behind the school and down a slight incline.  Jon needed to drive down the small hill, over a small bridge that spanned a creek and through a gate that opened onto a large field which the district planned on using for future construction projects as more students enrolled.  The shed was just beyond the gate and to the right. It also housed some extra equipment, building materials and other oddball things that could be used for other schools.

            Jon started the Gator and the deep, throaty sound of the diesel engine reverberated off the school walls. Jon cranked the wheel around and headed for the shed.  About half-way across the parking lot, Jon’s ears picked up the distant sound, although muffled under the roar of the diesel engine, of a “woofing” sound, almost like a heavy blanket being dropped on the floor. He glanced around and looked in all three of his mirrors, but didn’t see anything.  Barreling forward, Jon heard the sound again, this time louder.  Again, he glanced over his shoulder, looked in his mirrors and scanned the landscape around him trying to ascertain where the sound was coming from.  Nothing.

            As Jon neared the crest of the hill wherein he would start his descent toward the bridge, a sudden ROAR occurred right next to his left ear.  Jon jumped in his seat as he turned to stare into the fangs of the stray dog that he thought had left the property a few months previously.  Obviously, the dog had returned to seek revenge for his prior ice-sliding escapade into the curb during icy weather. The dog was jumping and leaping at Jon as it raced alongside the Gator.  Jon could feel the heat of its breath on his face and felt the tug and heard the tear of cloth as the dog sunk his teeth into Jon’s shirt while leaping from the pavement.  If Jon’s heart hadn’t already had quite the workout from his encounter with Vance, it surely did now.  Had he been connected to an EEG machine, his heart rate would have looked like a high-frequency readout on the screen of an oscilloscope, the waves and crests so close together that it was hard to tell where they started and stopped.

            In an endeavor to escape the mobile, teeth-encased, canine-head which was lunging and snapping next to his ear, Jon stomped on the accelerator and the Gator lurked forward with increased speed.  Glancing in his side mirror, Jon watched as Beowulf’s stature decreased in size and eventually slowed and turned to gallop off toward some other interest he’d suddenly been intrigued by. Jon breathed a sigh of relief and let off on the accelerator as the Gator barreled down the hill at 30 mph.  Scenery continued to whiz by Jon as he suddenly realized that the lifting of his foot off the foot-feed had done nothing to slow his speed.  Looking down at the speedometer, Jon’s heart began to race once again as his brain sent signals through his body warning him of impending danger.  The speedometer now read 36 mph and it continued to climb.  Frantically, Jon used his toes to try and pull up on the accelerator.  Nothing happened.  Panic rising in his body, Jon tried again.  The speedometer climbed higher as his descent down the hill’s incline and the effect of gravity increased his acceleration.  40 mph.  Jon’s hair was now horizontal as the wind blowing through the open cab caught each strand and lifted it up creating a streamer-like effect.  Jon’s mind was racing with ideas of how he could unstick the accelerator.  The bridge was a mere 100 yards away.

            Jon stretched out his right hand while holding the steering wheel with his left hand and he cautiously bent down to try and pull the gas pedal up with his fingers.  His eyes were barely able to peek over the dash, much like two large suns on the horizon at sunrise. His bent body ached as his muscles stretched, stretched and stretched some more.  His fingertips were able to just brush the edge of the gas pedal.  Jon had only millimeters to go before his ridged fingertips would be able to grasp the underside of the pedal and pull upward. Jon’s mind willed his body to stretch like Gumby and stretch just a hair more.  His fingers slipped underneath the edge of the pedal.  Jon’s mind breathed a sigh of relief and he pulled. 

            The Gator continued to race down the hill. The speedometer now read 44 mph.  When Jon pulled upward, nothing happened. Pulling harder, Jon willed more strength from his muscles and pulled with concentrated effort. Still nothing.  He gave it one more go.  With a sudden “snap” Jon flew backwards in his seat. His head bounced off the back window and the Gator swerved just briefly as Jon arrested control from the laws of nature.  In his right hand he held the broken accelerator pedal.  Glancing down at the floorboard, Jon noticed the metal rod that connected the accelerator to the carburetor. It was still pushed all the way to the floor.  The edge of the rod was stuck under the edge of the hole through which the rod entered.  There was no way he could release the rod without being on his hands and knees and probably using tools to do so. Jon figured this was the end as the bridge was a mere 50 feet away.  At this speed he’d cross it in less than a second.  Jon’s mind was able to send signals to his body faster than the rate at which he was traveling, so a sudden “thought” occurred to him. HIT THE BRAKES!

            Jon, in his panicked state, had not thought to implement this simple step.  His right foot raised, and he stomped on the brake.  The Gator’s wheels locked up and the Gator began to slide forward.  But not fast enough as he skidded across the bridge and became airborne on the other side. Flying, Jon glanced out the side window at the ever-receding ground below.  Sweat raced around Jon’s head as if each droplet were in competition with his race down the hill.  The Gator was some 12 feet off the ground as it exited the far side of the bridge and floated in the air languidly for a few seconds.  As it began to descend toward the ground, Jon braced for impact.

            When the front wheels hit the ground, the momentum and sudden impact sent Jon’s body forward only to be restrained by his seatbelt.  Jon was so glad he’d strapped in this time.  Normally he just jumped in and drove.  The front tires compressed almost to the wheel and then resumed their normal shape as the back of the Gator came crashing down to the ground.  As they rebounded from the impact, the entire Gator bounced back into the air like a rubber ball and Jon looked like a kernel of popcorn inside an air popper as he was thrown up, down, left, right, forward and backward as all the forces of momentum and gravity played their roles. 

            The Gator resumed a normal driving position and continued forward releasing the last of its acceleration and forward movement. Large swaths of dirt and gravel spewed from all four wheels due to Jon’s slamming on the brakes.  Unfortunately, the sudden descent and force of hitting the ground from such a height had jerked the steering wheel from Jon’s hands.  The Gator’s front wheels grabbed the ground and turned toward the right.  As they did so, several lug nuts on the front left wheel were sheared off and flew like bullets across the field, a couple ricocheting off the trees that lined the edge of the property.  The wheel, now unsecured, flopped like a fish as the steering wheel shuddered under Jon’s hand.  With forces so immense, Jon was unable to hold on to the wheel.  It was ripped from his grasp and the Gator’s front left tire blew and then flew off the axle. Bouncing across the field, it crashed into a district vehicle that was parked on the field where the grounds crew worked in the woods clearing brush.  A huge dent in the driver’s door would prevent entry and the force of the impact shattered the driver’s side window and cracked the windshield.  Rebounding from the impact, the tire flew off the truck and rolled across the field where is shuddered to rest in the grass. 

            Meanwhile, the Gator dropped to the ground and the axle and undercarriage dug deeply into the ground.  This sudden resistance and continued momentum caused the Gator to stop quicker in the front than the back.  The weight of the Gator’s rear end was forced to overtake the front end and the Gator pirouetted back to front over itself.  Jon, still strapped inside, felt as if he were on a ride at the fair. The scenery around him spun and twisted.  The grounds truck turned upside-down and then right side up as he completed a full rotation inside the cage of the Gator. The momentum was such that a second rotation began, and he rolled again.  This time when the Gator slammed down to the ground, he was upright, and it bounced and wobbled to a complete stop.  Jon sat stunned.

            Steam began to rise from the hood and smoke trailed out behind the Gator.  Jon’s mind was reeling, and it took him a few seconds to get his bearings.  When the smell of diesel assaulted his nose, Jon knew he needed to get out of the Gator.  Unbuckling his seatbelt, Jon tumbled sideways out of his door and landed on the ground.  He crawled, stumbled and tripped his way away from the totaled machine.  Hearing a loud “bang”, Jon turned to see what the noise was. 

            Staring at the Gator from 25 feet away, Jon watched as black smoke began to grow and expand from underneath the lift-bed behind the cab. It curled out and surrounded the bed like a white blood cell enveloping a deadly bacterium.  The smoke continued to grow and expand until Jon could no longer see the Gator. All that was visible was a black, roiling cloud of putrid diesel-laden fumes climbing higher and higher into the sky.  Jon expected the worst.  Crab-crawling backwards, Jon was able to distance himself some 50 feet from the Gator when a thunderous “boom” and accompanying fireball roared into the sky.  The concussion from the blast knocked Jon on his butt. The heat created by the explosion of diesel raced over Jon singeing his hair.  His eyebrows instantly disintegrated and his hair curled into a tiny forest of Bear grass.  His face blackened as if he were some lost chimney sweep and his clothes instantly absorbed the greasy, burnt odor of burning fuel. 

            As the mushroom cloud rolled into the sky and then dissipated leaving a burning pile of rubber and steel, the grounds crew came racing out of the woods. 

            “What the…?”, yelled Antonio, a Hispanic 32-year-old from Guatemala.  He’d worked for the district for 10 years and knew Jon well.

            His coworker, Mortimer, a 69-year-old man of German descent stumbled out behind him.

            “Holy Cow! What in the world happened?”

            “I have no idea,” Antonio yelled above the roar of the fire. 

        "It looks like some vehicle.  I can’t tell though due to the flames engulfing it,” Mortimer hollered.

            Antonio just wagged his head in agreement.  Wondering if someone was hurt, Mortimer and Antonio cautiously made their way closer to the burning mass. The intense heat kept them from getting too close, but they were able to scrutinize the pile.  Slowly walking in a circle around the unexpected bonfire, both men carefully looked for any victims.  As they reached the far side of the melting mass, they noticed movement in the distance as they stared through the flickering flames. 

            “Look,” Antonio yelled elbowing Mortimer in the ribs. “There’s someone lying in the grass over there.” Antonio pointed his grass-stained finger in the direction of Jon. 

            “Who is it?” Mortimer queried. 

            “I don’t know, but we better go look and see if they’re hurt,” Antonio replied.

        The two grounds employees quickly ran around the quickly diminishing pile of rubble and toward the figure on the grass.  Reaching Jon, both men stopped in their tracks.  Before them sat a blackened, eyelash-missing, fuzzy-headed scalp of a man. Staring up at them, Jon’s cracked lips parted to speak, but not before some skin from both lips was left stuck to the opposite lip as burnt flesh peeled from one to the other.  Jon grimaced in pain.

            “Water,” Jon moaned.  “I need some water.”

            Mortimer, always the health-conscious employee, reached down and pulled a water-bottle out of his cargo pants pocket.  Handing it to Jon, he opened it with black, crayon-like fingers and gingerly took a drink.  Water dribbled out of his mouth and over his numb lips as he tried to quench his thirst. Handing the bottle back, Jon slumped in a heap and just stared dumb-founded at Mortimer and Antonio.

            “What happened?” asked Antonio?  “We heard a loud crash and then as we were running out of the woods to see what was going on there was a ‘boom’ and a ball of flame rolled into the sky.  Did you roll the Gator?”

            Jon’s eyes stared at the ground darting here and there like lighthouse beacons warning ships at sea of danger.  Slowly, he raised his head to look at his two colleagues.  Like some broken bobble-headed doll, Jon looked from one to the other.  His eyes were dark and lost.  His stare indicated confusion, anguish and his penetrating look at Antonio and Mortimer indicated he wasn’t sure who they were.  He tried to speak, but babble emanated from his mouth.  His tongue was thick, as if he had a mouth full of thick paste.  His mind wouldn’t clear.  It seemed like his brain was disconnected and floating in an unseen and black void. 

            About this time, Vance appeared at the top of the small incline and stood on the bridge surveying the situation.  An orange ball of fire crackled and popped, smoke wisped into the sky and two figures and a crumpled man dotted the field to the left of the disaster. Vance was perplexed as to what happened.  Recognizing Antonio and Mortimer, Vance quickly jogged down the incline toward them.  As he neared the trio, he suddenly recognized Jon, dark, lightly smoldering and confused sitting at the feet of the grounds employees.  Vance stood dumbfounded. He looked at the fire and was able to make out the frame of a vehicle.  In the distance he noticed a tire lying on the field.  The tread on the tire triggered a picture in Vance’s mind, a picture of the Gator racing away from him with a custom-made rug in the bed.  Vance had no idea how things went from a runaway Gator with Jon at the wheel to the Gator in ruins burning on the field and Jon charred and crumpled sitting at his feet.

            Jon noticed the feet of a man from the corner of his eye.  Slowly scanning the highly polished shoes and moving upward along the upright frame, Jon’s eyes at last met Vance’s eyes pupil to pupil. Vance looked at Jon forlornly.  His countenance was one of sadness, empathy and disbelief.  Jon looked back with the face of a sad and dejected puppy. 

            “Really Jon? Really?”

            Jon just stared at Vance, almost through him. With cracked and bleeding lips, he hoarsely said, “Yes Vance.  Really.”

            “Are you okay?” 

            Vance was truly concerned, although given the long history of Jon’s mishaps it didn’t surprise him that Jon had done something foolish and potentially dangerous again. 

            “I’ll be fine,” Jon said.  His head was clearing, and his mental lucidity was reshaping itself inside his mind.  Jon was beginning to grasp what had happened and the pain associated with the accident was beginning to surface throughout Jon’s body. 

            “I just need to rest and cleanup a bit,” Jon said.

         “You’re sure you don’t need to see a doctor?”, Vance asked. Red and his team will be here momentarily to teach a CPR class to some of the staff.  I can have him check you over.

            Red was a paramedic that Jon had had encounters with multiple times. Jon really, really did not want to face him again and try to explain what had happened.  To assuage Vance’s concerns, Jon said that he’d talk to Red if he got worse or found something amiss when he got moving again. Vance agreed. 

            Antonio and Mortimer said they’d clean up the mess after it burned down, and Vance said he’d let Risk Management know so that the insurance process could be started.  Jon slowly rose to his feet and stretched.  His back aching and his body pulsing with pain, Jon winced, but toughed it out so as not to look like a wimp in front of his colleagues.  Vance eyed Jon one more time, told him to take care and turned to leave.  A slight breeze blew through the field and a small beautifully woven giraffe drifted down and landed on Vance’s shoulder.  Reaching up, Vance glanced at the piece of fabric.  Then the sudden realization of what it was and where it came from registered in his brain.  Vance turned, his face red and taut. He wanted to grab Jon by the throat realizing what had happened to the gorgeous gift the African school had donated to their building.  But upon seeing Jon’s beaten and haggard body and his pathetic ebonized face, Vance held his temper, turned around and stiffly walked up the hill. 

            Jon subconsciously breathed a sigh of relief.  Antonio and Mortimer walked back toward the woods.  A dog barked.  Then growled.  Then lunged.  Jon’s half-burned pants were ripped from his body.  The dog, satisfied to have a “piece” of Jon, violently shook the pants to kill them completely. Growling, twirling in circles and walking backwards, the dog finally turned and ran off into the woods with Jon’s trousers in tow as his new “prize”.  Jon stood there, befouled, muscles burning, face aching, lips bleeding, pant-less and so worn out.  What a day! Jon thought, What a Day!  Jon slowly clambered up the hill, a stick of a man, half-dressed and beaten down. 

            Trudging upwards, Jon heard Mortimer bellow in the distance.

            “Our truck! What in the world happened?  Look at this Antonio.  Look. At. This.”

            Jon didn’t dare turn around.  He just kept walking.  Tomorrow was another day.  And it had to be better than this one.    

Lesson Eighteen: He Had No "Ink"ling

              The sun was beaming through the window of the library as Jon walked the building early in the morning before school started. He was unlocking rooms and getting school ready before classes started in another hour or so.  With a skip in his step, Jon felt good. It was going to be a good day.  It was Friday, and the sun was out. What more could you ask. 

            As Jon passed rows and rows of books lining the library shelves with topics ranging from science to fantasy to reference books on myriads of subjects, he noticed a black spot on the carpet near the end of one of the bookshelves.  Jon stopped in his tracks. The spot appeared to be a spider.  Spiders didn’t worry Jon too much, but he wasn’t real fond of them either.  Cautiously he inched forward wary that the arachnid might launch itself off the floor and onto his face wherein tiny spider fangs would sink into his skin and cause an infection or give him some hideous scar.  When he was within a couple of feet, Jon exhaled a sigh of relief realizing that this wasn’t a spider after all.  It was just a black spot on the carpet.

            Must be a piece of paper,” Jon thought.

        He reached down to pick it up, but all his fingers touched were carpet fibers, nylon carpet fibers. 

            What in the world, Jon muttered to himself. 

            Jon got down on his hands and knees to examine the spot closer.  Gently picking at the fiber, Jon’s mind realized that this was some spot of something, but he didn’t know what.  Mud?  Paint? Marker? Mold?  Jon prayed it wasn’t mold.  Mold was a four-letter word, literally, but metaphorically as well. Jon knew that you did not want to mention mold and school in the same sentence.  That just opened another can of worms.

            Jon stood up and stretched his back.  He glanced at the digital clock on the wall.  It was surrounded by posters portraying all sorts of things.  Movie ads, school-related quips, encouragement to read more and use technology wisely and so on. Ignoring all of that, Jon’s eyes focused on the time. 7:09 a.m. School started at 8:15 a.m. He had time.

            Jon finished his rounds in quick order and then stopped at his office to grab some spotter a few rags and a couple other carpet cleaning items.  Should be quick work dealing with this spot, he thought.  Jon re-entered the library, cleaning chemicals in hand.  Kneeling on the carpet next to the black spot, Jon prepped his tools.  Opening the spotter bottle, Jon carefully poured some on a rag. He then gently dabbed the black spot which was about the size of a pea.  Picking up the rag, Jon noticed a lot of black had transferred from the carpet to the rag.  Great! He thought.  This should take no time at all. 

            Jon added a little more spotter to the rag and dabbed it again. More black appeared on the rag, but the spot had now begun to grow. Jon’s forehead wrinkled with concern.  The pea-sized spot was now just a little smaller than a dime.  The black color had not lessened any either. It was still just as dark as night.  He put some more spotter on his rag and dabbed it again.  This time the spot grew to about the size of a penny and blacker residue befriended the rag.

            Why is this growing and not coming out, Jon mumbled.

            This time, to speed up the process and take care of this spot quickly, Jon squirted the spotter directly on the carpet.  As he did so, the spot grew larger.  It was now the size of a quarter and just as black as before. Jon panicked.  Then it hit him.

            This must be ink. 

            Now Jon was worried.  Ink was a pain to remove and to do so properly, one needed to use an extractor with water to rinse and suck the ink out of the carpet while the spotter broke it down.  If this was not done, then the ink spot would spread bigger and bigger. Jon thought about it for a minute.  He then decided he could probably take care of this spot with a rag by blotting and stepping on the rag to transfer the liquified ink into the microfiber material.  So, Jon squirted more spotter on the black spot.

            When Jon did so, the ink spot grew again.  Quickly, he placed the rag over the spot and began putting weight on it to transfer the ink to the rag.  Removing the rag, Jon noted that some of the ink had indeed transferred to the rag and was beginning to disappear.  He added a bit more spotter and repeated the process. Again, the rag absorbed more ink. Jon’s heart slowed a beat as he began to relax with the assurance that the ink might just be removed more easily than he thought.  He continued this process for another five minutes. The ink continued to lighten, but not completely. Jon decided to try a different spotter.

            Carefully squirting the next spotter in his carpet cleaning arsenal on the spot, Jon watched as the black spot bloomed darker once more. This spotter had more “kick” and had loosened more ink molecules than the previous spotter.  Ink that had been absorbed by the carpet backing was now being released without hindrance into the carpet fibers.  Capillary action was pulling the ink from the back to the tips of the fibers. Jon’s heart picked up a beat. Quickly he began blotting the spot with his rag.  Drops of sweat fell to the dark void and quickly disappeared as if they were being absorbed by a man-made black hole.  Jon continued working feverishly to remove the spot knowing full well that he really, really needed to get the extractor.  But his pride and determination moved him to continue with his quest.

            “Hey Jon!  What’s up?”

            The voice of the school principal, Vance, was not what Jon wanted to hear. A fear gripped Jon like some hand around the neck of a deadly snake whom one didn’t dare let go of for fear of being bitten.

            “Hi Vance.  Just cleaning up a spot here on the carpet.”

            Fortunately, Jon had the spot covered with the rag, so Vance did not see the full extent of the ink spot underneath. The spot was now the size of a small pancake. 

            “Always appreciate your determination and pride in taking care of our school.  You keep it looking great despite the constant use and wear and tear it receives.  Keep up the excellent work!”

            Vance’s face emitted rays of positivity as he beamed at Jon on his knees. 

            “Don’t mind me,” Vance said.  “I have a couple things to look at before a meeting with the School Board.”

            Vance sat down at a table near Jon and opened his laptop. 

            Jon’s anxiety ratcheted up several notches like a thermometer dropped in boiling water.  He just wanted to finish this job and be done with it.  Turning back to his task at hand, Jon squirted more spotter on the ink.  Then he began to use a tamping brush to “pull” the ink to the surface of the carpet where he could blot it up.  With quick, swift snaps of his wrist, Jon tamped the ink and watched it get darker and darker.  He blotted more ink.  Then he added more spotter and tamped again.  He repeated this process several times.  The ink lightened, but still had a dark hue to it.  Jon stopped to rest. 

            Stretching his back and neck, Jon closed his eyes as he tipped his head back and forced his chest forward to create an arch in his back. Several “pops” and “cracks” occurred as his back straightened out.  Leaning forward and opening his eyes, Jon’s heart almost popped out of his chest and onto the floor.  Sitting in front of him at the table, his back to Jon was Vance.  On the back of Vance’s light tan suit pants were a multitude of little black spots that made them look like spotted leopard legs.  In his haste to finish removing the ink and because of his constant tamping of the ink spot, he did not realize that tiny droplets of ink had been flying and landing on Vance’s pant legs. Vance had no idea what had happened since the spots were so light he would never feel then landing on his clothes.  Jon was horrified.  What should he do?

            At that moment Vance stood up and stretched. 

            Looking at his watch he said, “Time to get going.  Meeting starts in five in the conference room.  Good seeing you Jon.  Thanks again for all your hard work.”

            Stammering, Jon replied, “Thanks.  I try.”

            Vance picked up his laptop and walked toward the door. Jon’s deflated heart fell to the bottom of his ribcage as he watched the Leopard-Legged Administrator walk out the door.  He had no idea what Vance would say or do when he found the spots.

            Giving up on the idea that he’d be able to remove the spot with just rags and spotters, Jon clambered to his feet and went to get his extractor. Walking across the new white area rug that was decorated with beautiful animals and fauna which had been donated by an African school group that had visited his building the week before, Jon walked out the door.

            Reaching his office and equipment storage area, he filled up the extractor, grabbed the wand and some more rags, picked up more spotters, grabbed a high-speed blower to dry the rug when finished and walked back to the library. 

As he opened the door, his eyes were drawn to the area rug like metal orbs to a powerful magnet. He couldn’t move them. They were riveted to the carpet as if a tractor beam were pulling them toward its surface.  Right across the middle of the rug were large, black footprints.  As his eyes moved slightly upward to focus on the ink spot, he noted those same footprints on the library carpet. Jon suddenly realized that he’d stepped in the ink spot when he went to get the extractor and that he’d inadvertently tracked the ink out the door. Turning to look behind him, he could see the ever-lightening footprints he’d made a few minutes before. Jon almost puked.

            Jon gave himself a few minutes to get composed and then set to work.  First, he began extracting the carpet with water.  Rinse after rinse removed more and more ink.  He used his spotters and tamping brush several times loosening the ink and then ran the extractor over the area to rinse it thoroughly.  Repeating this for 10 to 15 minutes, Jon was able to remove enough of the ink that it was almost completely gone.  There would always be some ink that had permanently stained the fibers that would never come out, but for the most part it looked clean.  Jon then set up a blower and turning it on he thought about Bernoulli’s Law that was now at work.  That law stated that air moving over the surface of the carpet would create less surface pressure which in turn would allow the moisture to rise to the surface where it would be vaporized as it was whisked away into the surrounding air.  Unfortunately, several magazines and flyers were also affected and blew off the shelves and all over the floor.  Jon repositioned the blower and cleaned up the mess.  Now to cleaning the area rug. 

            Jon started working on the darkest of the spots.  Again, he used spotters, the tamping brush and the extractor. The first spot was the darkest, so Jon had to use more spotter than succeeding spots would dictate needed to be used.  As Jon squirted spotter, tamped and extracted, the spot started fading.  After another five minutes, Jon could see the spot disappearing.  He also noted on the last stroke of his extractor wand across the affected area that several carpet fibers suddenly pulled out of the carpet and whooshed up the wand and into the extraction waste tank. 

            “Holy”, Jon didn’t finish his defamatory outburst.   A large hole gaped at Jon. Ragged along the edges, it was the size and relative shape of a shoe.  Jon was flabbergasted.  What had happened?

            Jon stopped, paralyzed and too stunned to move.  Thoughts raced through his mind like rocks being skipped across a pond.  And then one stone hit a tree limb in his minds pond and bounced off the inside of his skull.  This area rug was a high-end rug from another country.  Most expensive rugs had to be cleaned with special cleaners.  His use of spotters and water had over-saturated the backing thus releasing the carpet fibers.  His last wand stroke and the power of the suction had literally pulled the fibers right out of the backing. The backing would eventually begin to dry and in doing so would shrink leaving ripples in the surface. Jon’s heart fell through his ribcage and into his acid-filled stomach.  Waves of nausea swept from his gut to his head.  Jon had ruined an expensive gift from Africa!

            Jon reached down and grabbed the end of the area rug.  He was going to remove it and take it to his office. Maybe he could find someone who could repair it, or maybe he could find a replacement online. As he faced the library door and lifted the opposite end of the rug, his face suddenly appeared in the hole he’d created as he lifted the rug into the air.  At the same time Vance walked back in.

            “Holy”.  Vance didn’t finish his sentence. He stood staring at Jon’s face framed in the hole in the rug.  Animals of all kinds woven into the carpet fabric surrounded Jon’s deer-in-the-headlights face.

            “I know”, Jon said sheepishly. “There’s ink on the carpet.”

            “No”, Vance exclaimed, “I mean there’s a huge hole in the rug.”

            Jon didn’t answer.  He just rolled up the rug as Vance walked toward him.  Vance’s eyes could have burned holes in the rug bigger than the one Jon had created.  He stared at Jon.  Jon stared back. 

            “I’ll get it fixed or replaced”, he said.  “It’s my fault.  I’m so sorry.”

            Vance’s face reddened to the point that Jon thought he might explode like a ripe tomato being stepped on.  What made things worse was that Vance said nothing else.  He just turned and walked away.  Jon watched as the Leopard-Legged Administrator left the room. 

            Jon turned to pick up his equipment and roll up the rug when he heard a distant voice in the hallway. 

            “Hey Vance.  I like your pants.  Is today a practical joke day I wasn’t aware of?”

            “What?” Vance queried.  “What are you talking about?”

            “Your pants.  They look like cat spots.  Are you supposed to be half-cat half-human?”

            “I don’t have…What the!”

            Vance’s exclamatory howl at seeing his pants speckled with ink reverberated down the hallway.  As loud as it was, it could probably be heard all over the school without the use of the intercom system. 

            Jon’s heart beat like a hummingbird’s wings knowing Vance would come looking for him. Leaning down to pick up the rest of his stuff as quickly as possible, Jon heard the animalistic cry of anger and frustration beckoning to him from the hallway. 

            “Jon! Jon E. Mopp! We need to talk, now!”

            Jon finished picking up his stuff and laid the holy rug on his extractor. Then, scurrying as fast as possible, Jon headed out the back door of the library.  He perused his surroundings with rapid eye movements that would be the envy of a chipmunk who’d drunk too much caffeine.  Then he spotted it.  The John Deere Gator parked about 50 feet away.  Quickly he moved all his equipment to the Gator, loaded it into the back with bullet-like speed, jumped in and started it and headed back to his office.  This was one time he WAS NOT going to face Vance until things had cooled down.  He did not want to deal with confrontation or belittling now.  He felt bad enough and needed time to chill.  Stopping on the accelerator, Jon took off. In his rearview mirror he saw Vance’s tomato-colored face pop out from behind the library emergency exit door and saw his arm raised in anger as his form shrunk in size.  Jon’s day could not have gotten any worse.  Or could it? 

Lesson Seventeen: Snakes in the Class

  

             Jon glanced out the hallway window.  It was dark out, and yet it was only 5:00 p.m. He shook his head.  I hate this time of year he thought to himself.  Because it was the middle of winter, darkness enshrouded life early for several months.  It often made work more difficult because Jon couldn’t just do what he needed to do outside because it was too dark to see.  But what could he do?

  Jon’s shift was normally a morning one.  But today, Jon was in late because he’d been called in to deal with a smoke detector problem. And on top of that it was a Friday night. Jon had walked around the building checking to make sure everything was okay after he’d replaced the smoke head and reset the fire panel.  He just wanted to be sure there weren’t any “real fires” that might have started while the fire system was offline for the last hour.

  Jon neared the science wing.  This was his last stop before coding out and heading back home.  It was dark inside the building and the darkness outside created a scenario wherein it was almost like wrapping darkness inside of darkness.  Even his trusty Maglite was having difficulty penetrating the thick gloom.  Of the four science rooms in this area, Jon thought he’d swing through the one farthest from civilization. That science room used to be an old boiler room before the building was remodeled a few years back.  To reach this room Jon had to go down a short hallway that dead-ended at a door.  Going through the door, Jon stepped down four steps into a dark, lab-like area that housed the biology classroom.  Having previously been a boiler room, it contained hidden areas and side rooms where equipment for the heating system used to reside.  Concrete pillars protruded from the floor and pierced the ceiling as they held up part of the building overhead.  As Jon cast the light from his flashlight around the room, eerie shadows grew and shrank with the movement of his beam.  Jon stepped inside.

  Jon didn’t mind the creepiness of this room since he knew the school inside and out. He knew every hidden nook and cranny and had been there long enough to see the building remodeled a couple of times.  So, he knew that where current walls now existed often enclosed empty areas behind them that were blocked off during a reconfiguration. 

  Jon wanted to check this room because the science teacher, Mr. Horace Scarey, not only taught biology, he also had a few animals he kept in his room as part of his curriculum.  He had a few rats, insects, an ant colony, frogs and snakes.  Of the creatures in his room, Jon was most fascinated by the snakes. 

  Jon didn’t like snakes, but he had a compelling intrigue regarding them.  He knew they weren’t slimy, or dangerous, at least not Mr. Scarey’s snakes, but still their ability to slither, creep, crawl and writhe in total silence and with such stealth piqued Jon’s curiosity.  Sometimes during class, Jon would drop by and watch Horace handle the snakes and show the kids.  They were very friendly and accommodating considering how much they were handled.  It’s almost as if they knew they were the center of attention and wanted the adoration given them by the hundreds of kids that saw them each year.

  Jon walked across the room with his Maglite in hand.  Shadows bounced off the walls and cabinets and an occasional glint and reflection of his beam would bounce off one of the glass enclosures on the opposite side of the room.  Jon made his way through the labyrinth of desks and chairs and finally reached the glass snake terrarium.  He looked around and behind the enclosure trying to see where the snakes were hiding.  Since the terrarium was filled with sticks, grass, rocks and other things for the snakes to hide in, it was often difficult to see them.  Plus, the terrarium was rather large measuring two feet wide by two feet high by six feet long.  This gave the serpents plenty of room to move about.  And since there were only two snakes both about two feet long, they could easily curl up and hide without anyone seeing them, although their tiny, beady eyes were probably watching whoever was peering into their enclosure at any given time.

Jon stopped in front of the terrarium and carefully peered inside.  His eyes roved around the enclosure like searchlights scanning the night skies. He looked under the twigs, peered around rocks, searched the clumps of grass and willed the sand to part to expose the hiding places of the snakes.  But to no avail.  Jon could not see them anywhere. Jon stepped back to one end of the terrarium and again scanned the entire length of the terrarium looking for any movement, any indication as to where the slithering creatures might be hiding.  After a solid ten minutes, Jon’s shoulders drooped and he straightened up and stretched his aching lower back. He stood in dismay and utter disbelief realizing that he couldn’t find two small snakes in a finite-sized enclosure. 

As Jon turned to leave and make his way back through the darkened maze of a room, his eye caught movement in the right side of the terrarium. Freezing in place, Jon turned and leaned down to get a closer look.  Again, he saw movement.  And then he saw the snake.  I knew you guys were here somewhere Jon mumbled, a wry smile creasing his face.  But Jon’s mind raced with caution and bewilderment.  His brain told him something wasn’t quite right.  The movement almost looked like it was out-of-sync with the size of the terrarium.  It was as if the movement were farther away, like looking through the wrong end of a pair of binoculars.  Jon squinted and looked harder.  And then it struck him.  The snake he saw was not in the terrarium.  It was BEHIND the terrarium!

Jon’s heart jumped in his chest so hard that he literally felt it bounce off his rib cage.  Terrified that the snake would crawl around the terrarium and attack him, Jon started backing up very slowly keeping a close eye on the serpent.  In the dim twilight of the room and his flashlight beam, the snake’s eyes glistened like tiny golden jewels as he stared deep into Jon’s soul.  His tiny tongue, forked, long, green and quick flicked in and out of his mouth like a diabetic needle meant to draw blood.  Jon’s eyes looked like huge, golden cookies as he slowly began to leave the room in reverse.

Carefully reaching behind him, Jon cautiously made his way through the maze of desks, chairs and supporting pillars.  Never once did he take his cookies off the jewels that stared back at him in the murky gloom and never once did he blink.  As he retreated some ten feet from the terrarium, Jon suddenly realized something horrifying.  Where was the second snake?

Jon’s heart beat even harder.  It felt as if it was leaving a dent on the underside of his ribs it was pounding so hard.  Frantically he began to glance this way, that way and back again toward the first snake. Jon was so terrified that he failed to ascertain how far backwards he had trekked.  At that moment, Jon miscalculated his steps and tripped over a desk.  Falling backwards, his arms flailing, Jon’s Maglite flew out of his hand and bounced off the wall behind him.  It hit the floor, rolled in a semi-circle and stopped where it shone across the floor toward the counter where the terrarium sat.  The beam was split into several shafts of light as it was cut by the legs of the chairs and desks. This added an eerie luminescence to the room and cast the terrarium in a dark, haunting shadow. 

Sitting up like a Jack-in-the-box, Jon’s eyes immediately were trained on the spot near the terrarium where the jewel-eyed creature had been.  He blinked once, twice, three times but in shock Jon realized the snake was gone.  Now Jon had two serpents to fear in the darkness. 

Crab-walking backwards while trying to regain his stance, he plowed into a pillar behind him dropping him to his butt.  Jon’s furtive eyes quickly moved back and forth with lightning speed scanning the room like a radar beam in search of the missing ophidians. Coming face-to-face with these creatures would almost certainly cause immediate death, or so he felt.

Jon got to his knees and stood up.  Leaning down and quickly retrieving his Maglite, Jon quickly shone the beam in all directions.  He was looking for any movement he could see in this translucent haze.  Jon glanced over his right shoulder toward the classroom door.  Quickly estimating the distance between himself and the door, Jon began to move toward the room’s egress. Ever aware of his situation and what he was in fear of, Jon never once stopped his continual scan of his surroundings.  A sudden noise to his left stopped Jon in his tracks.  A sound like sandpaper on wood filled his ears.  Jon had no idea what was causing the sound, but he didn’t like it.  It ran shivers down his spine.  His arms bubbled with gooseflesh.

Wanting to leave the room even faster than before, Jon turned to run the last few feet to the door.  His Maglite in hand, he turned, stepped forward and was instantly blind!  Jon’s mind raced trying to understand what had happened.  Instinctively he reached up to his eyes to feel for the sudden cause of his loss of vision.  When he did, he felt something smooth and cool on his face and as his hand began to remove it he realized it was one of the snakes that had dropped down from an overhead light and had draped itself across his face.  Jon screamed a silent scream, his voice non-existent and his mouth agape.  Realizing that his hand still held the snake, Jon flung it across the room.  He heard a muffled “thump” as it hit the wall and then heard the tell-tale sounds of the snake brushing against something in the dark as it crawled to who-knew-where. 

Lifting his Maglite once again, Jon shone it toward the exit.  He was only a few feet from escape.  He had four stairs to climb and then freedom.  Quickly his mind calculated what he needed to do.  Run, jump four steps, sail through the door and run as fast as he could to the end of the short hallway.  Within milliseconds of this calculation, Jon’s feet began to move. Oblivious to the obstacles blocking his path, he plowed through desks and chairs toward freedom and safety. But it was not to be.

As his forward momentum propelled him forward, his body followed.  As his front foot left the floor to move and his back leg followed, his eyes saw the golden jewels of the second snake sitting on the penultimate step. He was neatly coiled as if he were a living slinky.  His tongue flicked the air detecting all elements of his surroundings.  Unfortunately, since Jon’s body was already “in flight” with both feet off the floor and his center of balance tipped forward in a position of flight, he couldn’t stop fast enough to avoid the serpent just ahead. 

Trying to throw all his senses and bodily movements in reverse, Jon’s body contorted itself into a pretzel as it tried to stop, turn, twist, jump, and move all at the same time.  His ophthalmic cookies were bigger than ever and his brain pulsed with neural activity at speeds greater than that of light as it tried to signal his body to respond. To an onlooker, Jon’s body looked like some martial arts warrior as it sailed through the air in a twisted, flailing form, gravity slowly dropping him in a beautiful laws-of-nature arc onto the second-to-the-last step just inches ahead. Jon closed his eyes waiting for the impact of his face with the ophidian. 

His mouth agape, his eyes closed and his body in motion, Jon’s face squished squarely into the body of the coiled serpent.  His mouth felt the soft, cool skin of the snake slide across his lips.  His nose could smell the reptilian odor of this coiled, living mass.  His hands attempted to stop his forward momentum but both hit the snake head-on right alongside his face.  As his feet followed the sudden stop of his head and body, he crumpled in a heap on the steps with the snake underneath him.  Jon attempted to scream, but instead got a mouthful of the snake’s body slithering across his tongue.  Jon nearly fainted.

Jon’s brain had shut down the pain portion of his body and was in flee mode.  Scrambling like a newborn on ice, Jon couldn’t stand up quick enough or with any grace whatsoever.  The snake too did not want to die and it was squirming as fast as possible to get away.  However, with his limited vision, all he could do was move in any direction possible!  And he did, right down Jon’s shirt.

Before Jon had stood completely erect, he realized where the snake had gone.  Frantically, he tried to reach in and remove it.  But it was too deep.  The snake had fallen to the bottom of his tucked-in shirt and was burrowing as fast as possible to get out.  Finding a small indentation near Jon’s belt buckle, the two-foot ophidian burrowed his head downward and underneath Jon’s belt.  Jon felt his cool, smooth body sliding across his belly and down his inner thigh.  Instinctively, Jon squealed in terror and ripped at his pants.  The snake continued to move south.  Since Jon’s pants were a bit tighter at the bottom than the top, the snake found the space to move in becoming restrictive.  The snake began to panic.  As it tried to force its way out, it realized the area between the pants and Jon’s skin was tight, maybe too tight.  Making a U-turn, the snake started back up Jon’s leg.  Jon felt what was happening and was jumping up and down trying to dislodge the serpent like a man on a hot plate.  As he did, the snake would fly up and down inside his trousers. Jon screamed like a baby.

The muscles in the snake’s body and his instinctive abilities to navigate rough terrain enabled him to endure the constantly up-and-down movement of Jon’s jumping.  Thus, the snake could continue his ascent creeping toward the top of Jon’s pants.  Jon reached down and ripped his shirt out of his pants in hopes of grabbing the snake and jerking it out of his clothing.  However, Jon’s constant jumping created a comical scene as the snake’s head bobbed in and out of the top of his pants as it tried to extricate itself to freedom.  The Jack-in-the-Pants ophidian had lost some of the mischievous gleam in its eyes. Instead, they had morphed into orbs of blackness.  Dilated jewels of death beamed in and out of Jon’s pants.  Jon tried catching it on each exit from underneath his belt and each time he missed.  Panicked, Jon jumped harder.  The snake in turn squirmed faster and more franticly.  And then, with one mighty jump, the snakes body emerged six inches beyond Jon’s waist-girded, belt-encircled body.  Grabbing the snake by the head, Jon pulled quick and fast removing the snake from his clothing.  In terror, Jon flung it backwards over his head.  In the distance, he heard something like wet bacon slapping against skin.  It was then that he heard the scream of another human.

Jon turned to see who was there.  His shirt torn from his pants and hanging askew, his belt loose from the buckle due to the quick extrication of the serpent, his hair tousled and his eyes now the size of pies, Jon found himself staring into the serpent entwined face of Horace Scarey.  Jon’s heart quit beating and sank to the bottom of his rib cage.  He felt it beating in the pit of his stomach. 

Jon shakily turned around and illuminated the room by turning on the room’s lights.  There, amongst overturned chairs and desks stood Mr. Scarey. He had entered the back of the room from an outside door that was rarely used.  He’d returned to pick up a few things he needed to grade papers over the weekend.  Horace reached up, delicately picked the snake off his face and returned it to the terrarium.  He then scanned the labyrinthine classroom and spotted the second snake coiled in the far corner of the room.  Without saying a word, Horace made his way through the maze of toppled furniture and retrieved the second ophidian.  He put it back in the terrarium, closed the lid and latched the cover tight.  Then he turned to Jon.

Jon hung his head sheepishly. 

“So, what happened here,” Horace asked.

Jon slowly raised his head.  He looked at Mr. Scarey. “I was just locking things up for the night and came in to check on the snakes.  Then I noticed they were out of the terrarium and that’s when all hell broke loose.  I tried to leave but was accosted by these serpents.”

Horace chuckled under his breath. 

“These guys are harmless.  They wouldn’t hurt a flea.  You know that.  You’ve seen me work with these guys for years.”

“I know.  It just freaked me out,” Jon stammered.

Horace continued.  “One of the students must have left the lid unlatched and they escaped.  They’re always looking for a way out.  Sorry they scared you so badly.”

Jon smiled weakly. 

“Sorry.  I didn’t mean to cause trouble and really didn’t mean to throw that snake on your face.  In all the commotion, I didn’t even hear you come in the back way.”

“Don’t worry about it.  No harm done.  Why don’t you get home?  You probably need some rest after this ordeal.”

Jon knew he was right. 

“Thanks Horace.  I do.  See you Monday.”

Horace nodded and turned to get the items he’d come for from his desk.  Jon turned and walked up the four steps into the short hallway.  He locked Horace’s door and headed back toward his office. After signing out for the night, Jon headed home. 

He pulled into his driveway and parked.  As he approached the front door his three-year-old son greeted him at the doorway. 

“Daddy, daddy you’re home!”

“Hi Elmer,” Jon said with a gleam in his eye. He hugged his son and kissed him on the forehead. 

“Daddy.  Look what I have!”

Jon’s eyes looked at his son’s tiny hands.  As if in slow motion Elmer reached out and handed Jon a snake.  Jon almost dropped his boy on the ground.  Jon stared dumbfounded at Elmer.  Then he saw Elmer’s lips moving.  As if hearing him speak like he was under water he heard a distant voice exclaim, “Mommy bought this for me today.  Isn’t it cool!”