A Z Mystery
Copyright© 2025 by CreepyUnclePete - by Limnophile
Chapter 5
Languages Professor Samuel McGovern – age 57
No matter the language I was teaching, music and poetry were great ways for students to gain a better understanding. For the more advanced classes, I always make one of their assignments the composition of a song or poem.
Translated to English, some high points of the dreadful atrocity I was grading were, “They lustfully enjoyed stacking his barber’s cow eggs”, and “He longed to stir his stinky ear and frolic in her charcoal again”.
Less than a quarter of the verses rhymed, and there were more typos than lines. Unfortunately, it was six times the minimum length I had specified. I thought if he was going to serve his audience something toxic, at least he should be decent enough to make it a small portion.
It was an easy decision and I entered it for the record. Ben Jones: D plus
My granddaughter Robin asked, “Grampy Sam, can we get lunch soon? I’m hungry.”
“Just two to go sweetie, it won’t take long.” I’m glad the little twelve-year-old is easy to entertain, all it takes is a few videogames on a tablet.
I put the tragic travesty down on the stack of other disappointments, and started reading another epic offence to the spirit of Homer.
Suddenly we were FALLING FROM THE SKY, then SWIMMING!
I saw water all around and tall cliffs ahead of us. Robin was keeping her head above water. The last time our family went to the pool, she swam faster than I did. I was glad she was okay.
Cliffs meant land! Land!
“Robin! Swim this way! Toward the cliff! Follow me!” My shoes were slowing me down, so I kicked them off. After what seemed like a long time, we made it to a beach made of small stones at the foot of the cliff. I knew I was in no condition to try mountain climbing, and Robin was only twelve.
I looked around and saw the meter-wide beach ran along the bottom of the cliff just above water level for several hundred meters each way. There were no islands or other land I could see. Thankfully, the water was only a little chilly, instead of dangerously cold. The air was nice and warm. Our situation reminded me a little of some poems about the white cliffs of Dover, only these cliffs were a light beige, sandstone, probably.
Robin yelled, “Hey! Can anybody hear me! Help!”
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