Following Halloween and just as P. Martin had feared, his classmates dubbed him Pam, except James Vireo who was rarely seen at school these days and Phoebe Plover who, whenever in a group, sputtered out her words. Hence, Pam morphed into Sp-sp-am.
Of course, Kestrel and his buddy, Jaeger, loved Spam and anything "beefy," they boasted. After Thanksgiving, they bragged about their mother's cooking, squawking on about how they tossed the turkey giblets into the gravy. "What awesome brew they can stew!"
"But their Christmas duck is a must!" They laughed even louder.
P. Martin swore he saw Mrs. Whimbrel's face change ten shades of green. "Gentleman," she snapped. "Take out your math."
Maybe that's what I should do, he thought, pulling his math workbook and homework folder from his desk. Maybe I should just chew them out the next time they open their fat beaks. Without much thought, a chant jingled in his mind : I'm not Pam, and I'm not Spam. I'm P. Martin, and your brains are ham." For the first time, P. Martin didn't feel the urge to itch.
Welcome to MarMooWorks Story Line, where I encourage you to become a Muse of MarMooWorks. Each week, I will begin a story, using one sentence, and I invite you, the readers, to add to the story. Be on the lookout for fun and unusual words, images, and literary devices. Be sure to keep in mind that once a character has been introduced, he/she/it remains in the story and has a purpose.
