I opened the door, which is always a bad idea at 10:15 on a Friday.
“Hide!” C whispered as she and the two others slipped under my arm and into my bathroom, dripping snow and rustling in their snowpants. “If they come looking for us, we’re not here. And your bathroom doesn’t work”, instructed A through the door.
“Are P and them here?” the boy had ridden up on a snow-go, and his dark clothes were frosted.
“I’m on my way to bed,” I said, sipping my tea.
“Okay. I thought I heard them.”
“I dunno. Have a good night, E” I turned and closed the door. “You can come out now.”
Problem: Cookie girls in need of a hiding place can be difficult to pry off of the comfy couch, especially when they are hungry and fully aware of their teacher lady’s weakness for popcorn.
Solution: Give them thin strips of dark tape to stick over their mouths like stitches, and teach them how to walk like zombies. This has the added benefit of silencing them (except for the zombie groans) so that the other sleepy teachers in the building can get some rest.
“Go chase after the people. You guys look terrifying. Out! I’ll give you more tape when you’re all suited up.”
“What if we scare somebody drunk and they try to beat us up?”
“Don’t chase after drunk people. Just go after the kids who were chasing you, or go home and try to scare B”
“Hide!” P shrieked, followed by bumps and shrieks and the bathroom door slamming
I opened the door to a different student. “What’s up?”
“Have you seen A and them?”
“Well, if you see them, tell them we’re having a campfire down the bank”
“Will do. Have a good night”
“You too Ms. O”
“She said there’s a campfire down bank. Get going” I scooted them toward the door.
“it’s probably a trap. They probably have lots of snowballs”
“you can scare the pants off them and they’ll drop all the snowballs. Go up to them and then pull your neckwarmers down and make dead eyes. Scoot!”
“Okay. Bye Ms. O.”
“Bye. Let me know how it goes.”
I quickly turned out living room lights, not ready for a full-scale midnight zombie invasion.