I was sitting in the waiting room, for my first appointment with a new
dentist.
I noticed his diploma on the wall, which bore his full name. Suddenly, I
remembered that a tall, handsome, dark-haired boy with the same name had
been my high school classmate some 30-odd years ago.
Could he be the same guy that I had a secret crush on, way back then?
Upon seeing him, however, I quickly discarded any such thought.
This balding, gray-haired man with the deeply lined face was way too old to
have been my classmate.
After he examined my teeth, I asked him if he had attended Morgan Park High
School.
"Yes. Yes, I did. I'm a mustang," he gleamed with pride.
"When did you graduate?" I asked.
He answered, "In 1975. Why do you ask?"
"You were in my class!", I exclaimed.
He looked at me closely.
Then, that ugly, old, bald, wrinkled faced, fat-assed, gray-haired,
decrepit, son-of-a-bitch asked "What did you teach??"
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