Please, No Quarter

 

She had agreed to make her bed every day, for the rest of the month. Or else.

He knocked on the door. She opened it, greeting him with a guarded "Hello, sir."

He announced, "It's Saturday, and I promised you a SAMI. Remember?"

"SAMI?"

"Yes. S-AM-I. Saturday Morning Inspection. White gloves, bounce the quarter off the bed. Surely you remember the drill."

"Oh, my." This was not good.

He showed her the white gloves, placed them together, tucked them into his back pocket. He dug a quarter from his front pocket, flipped it into the air, and explained. "When I flip the quarter onto your bed, it should bounce - at least once. Don't you remember asking 'hospital corners and everything sir'?"

Her face told the story. Yes, she remembered, and no, she had not taken him seriously. He walked toward the bedroom, she following quickly behind.

He was visually reminded of her description from the day before; it was that which inspired his visit. She had said it was made, "sort of. I would hate to have to pass inspection."

He suggested a SAMI, and she did not know who Sammy was. He said he would explain on Saturday.

Here he was staring in disappointment at her bed, wooden hairbrush in one hand, quarter in the other. He announced, "If the quarter doesn't bounce..."

Perhaps begging would help. "Please, sir, I'll take the hairbrush now. Please, no quarter!"

She was a bit too obvious. He correctly interpreted her anguished glance, and peeked under the bed. Oh, oh.

"Very well, your wish is granted. The hairbrush it is, and you'll get no quarter from ME. Bring me the PLASTIC hairbrush, the one you forbid me to use on your bottom, and you'll learn the meaning of 'no quarter'."

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