I’m so nervous! I’m going to America in 2 weeks to meet President Bush, and I can’t speak a lick of English! You may remember that I was taking lessons at a private English company called NOVA. Unfortunately, a government penalty issued last year (Reason #003482 I hate Shinzo Abe) proved too much as NOVA closed their doors last week.
It devastated me. I sat alone in my study trying to sound out the words in my English textbook, but it just wasn’t the same without my teacher, Trent, making awkward passes at the female students in the class. Trent teaches so much that just isn’t in the textbook. Because of him, I’ve learned such phrases as “We don’t have to tell your boyfriend about it.” and “That’s not the only thing that’s bigger in America.”
I was almost to the point of tears when I heard a faint rapping on my door accompanied by a pathetic whimper. I opened up, and there was Trent, wet from the rain, emaciated, and with a deranged look on his face. Against my better judgment, I didn’t call security but decided to hear him out (I was wearing my vending machine skirt, so I could make a hasty escape if need be). He told me that since Nova collapsed, he and his colleagues haven’t been paid and had no money for food or rent.
Well call me a sentimental fool, but after an hour of negotiation, we worked out a deal: one hour of English lessons would earn him half a banana. He started the talks with an offer of one lesson for a full dinner, but come on, he was desperate, and I knew I could work him down. I didn’t get rich by giving away turkey dinners and smörgåsbords, that’s for sure. The fool even asked for an advance in pay, whining that he hadn’t eaten in days and felt light-headed. I made him sit down and give me the hour lesson before cutting up a banana.
Who knows? If Trent does a good job and I speak well in front of President Bush, I just may bring him back a chocolate bar. I sure wish this story of generosity would get leaked to the press (hint, hint!)