Boot Tasting

As I was getting home from work last week, I caught the tail end of a message from the school nurse . . . something about my son Ian being bitten in school, and so I picked up the phone and the nurse told me what happened: my son Ian had gotten into a scuffle with another student and that student bit Ian on the foot . . . but Ian was wearing a rubber rain boot . . . so there was no harm done, either to my son's foot or his rain boot, but there must be some law where the school has to call if a child is bitten or something . . . and perhaps Ian has a little crush on the nurse because he was down there the next day as well because he got hit in the face with a jump rope handle . . . when asked about the boot incident Ian simply said, "he tasted my boot," and that confuses things further . . . is that a euphemism for something else? . . . did the other kindergartener actually want to see what Ian's boot tasted like? . . . and I'm thinking it is best not to think too hard about what goes on in that building.

2 comments:

  1. Flash forward 15 years. At some college on the eastern seaboard, Ian will be a prop leading the college rugby side in a rendition of "I Used to Work in Chicago" when a verse goes awry -- and as he yells at the guilty freshman to "taste the boot," something deep in the recesses of his memory bank will trigger a spark, but the river of Milwaukee's Best flowing through his system ensures that the spark is neither illuminated brightly nor for any duration.

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  2. i almost kept this sentence going until i got to "shooting the boot<' one of my fondest college memories.

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