For the past 2 months or so I have been filling in at the local History museum until they can hire a full time curator. As a result of that I have worked every weekend I am off, made some extra cash and met some interesting people from all over the world. The only down side is the children. Just recently I had a large group of children come through on their yearly junior high school trip for hands on learning and to get the kids out of the school for a while. They chauffeur them around and display to the world how un-grateful, mis-behaved and entitled our future leaders will be. I was lucky enough to have a smaller group of forty that day for only 30min and I could tell we as a Nation are doomed and might as well learn Mandarin.
First off the teachers had no control of said children. They ran haphazardly all over the grounds climbing, fighting, and sitting on things that no shoe let alone ass should touch. I paid no mind to the ones outside because it took all I could just to keep an eye on the pasty little ones inside the Museum. Second of all, who the hell buys ten year old children phones worth several hundred dollars, I mean really? Almost every child seemed to be texting, surfing, or tweeting something to someone with the latest iphone. On more than one occasion I realized the person they were texting.... Was standing right next to them! What happened to letting kids be kids and telling them "NO" you cannot have said expensive ass phone, "NO" you cannot play video games so go outside and get some vitamin D for crying out loud.
I watched two girls walk face first into a display housing signed documents because they were face down in their phones and I guess the 90* turn was too much for them to handle. So I stood there for fear that one of theses blessed little ankle biters would crash face first into the the largest piece of glass we have and ruin the documents with their blood. I tried to get the teachers to grab a clue and try and wrangle their students but they all did was stand back with Xanax glazed eyes and only intervene when it looked like someone was going to set something on fire. Seeing no intervention there I then started barking orders or "don't do that's" to the little kids because it looked like the teachers didn't care or were too scared of the kids to say something.
To move things along and get theses little shits out of my museum I do ask the same question, "Is there anything you want to know or that I can answer for you"? Well needless to say they couldn't hear me over the deafening roar and screams of the wild children so I did what any lady would do. I put my middle finger and thumb in my mouth and let loose an ear piercing whistle that echoed off the tall Art Deco stone walls and ceiling and stopped everyone of those tax write off's and dazed teachers in their tracks. Awwww the sound of shocked silence, it made me smile. After a poetic pause to make sure everyone was looking at me I stated again "Is there anything you want to know or that I can answer for you" then I added "if not please go outside where you can be as loud as you want if you have questions please feel free to ask"? I loved all the blank stares I got back from their vacant eyes. That said to me "what do you mean I'm not here to learn I'm here just to get out of school, how dare you make this a learning experience".
My favorite part was watching all but a few children turn towards the double door and the crowd bunching up around the doors because it took them a few tries to figure out you were suppose to pull not push. Not to mention not a single one of them tried to open the second door to relieve the bottle-neck situation of the herd. The ones that did stick around, about 8 in total, those were the ones I enjoy helping because they are respectful and really wanting to learn something from the trip. I walked them around and pointed and explained and tried my best to help them understand the answers I was giving them. I also noticed that most of those children didn't have fancy phones, their clothes were not name brand for the most part and they truly listened. These are the ones I have hope in, these are the ones I believe have a chance at a good future.
As I walked the last of the children and one of their teachers out the front of the museum I thanked them for their questions and told them they were welcome back anytime. When the door shut I turned around to walk back and survey the damage when something caught my eye. Now one of the main attractions in our little history museum is a small cannon about two and a half feet long made of black iron and pitted as a result of its history. Now what I saw I only caught a glimpse of. So I walked to the cannon where I saw a fleeting multi-colored glimpse of something not as it should be. I peered down the inch and a half diameter bore that points directly at the doors and that is where I saw it. It was red, green and white with blue streaks mixed in and at the very back of the bore by the breech. What is it you may ask? Well when not shoved all the way to the back of my cannon they can be found in most places that have .50 cent gum ball and temporary tattoo machines.
A Super Ball..... Yes folks one of those rubber bouncy balls that children play with and are choking hazards. Unfortunately the little tyke that did this didn't test out the hazardous claims first. Instead he decided to not just drop the ball and let it roll to the back where it could easily have been rolled back out, oh no. The little fiend managed to some how tamp the ball with something maybe a ruler or a stick hell I don't know. Seeing how I don't believe they make anything electronic to aid in this type of thing, I found it hard to believe anyone of the recent group could have thought up to do this. Whom ever decided to do this heinous act to one of the states treasured relics really put some effort into it because the cannons history had left it pitted, worn and the bore is no longer true. So as it took effort to to get the ball in the cannon it too will take effort to get it out, but how?
The first thing I thought to attempt in my effort to clear the cannon of the super ball was to tilt the cannon forward on the pivot of the wheels. So I climb on the solid display where the cannon is placed and where no shoes let alone asses like me should be and lift. I lift at the far end of the wooden cart that the cannon is attached to and where it would have been hooked to the oxen as shown in the diagram so nicely displayed next to the cannon. As I am lifting the cannon in hopes that the ball rolls out I soon realize the cannon is not as tightly strapped down as I had thought and it slowly starts to slide forward. Well if the ball hadn't rolled out by now it never will so I quickly up right the cannon and walk to the front of it to see where the ball is and to push the cannon back in its original place. The ball has not moved.
Next Idea is to find a wire coat hanger and attempt to drag the ball out with a hooked end. During my lunch break I went home and grabbed a wire coat hanger and the only one I can find is painted white. I'm not much of a fan of the wire type coat hanger ever since seeing Mommy Dearest. When I return from lunch I wait until the few that had shown up after I reopened leave before I attempt my latest ball retrieving idea. Because as I see it, if I were in any other museum and saw someone doing what I was about to be doing with that coat hanger inside that cannon they would have been kicked out and or fined me for defacing a national treasure. I stretched out the coat hanger and curved the end into a hook. I then slid the white wire down the bore of the little cannon and attempted to slide the wire past the ball, twist and coax the ball forward. No luck. Again I tried and again each time failing to move the ball anywhere close to my side of the cannon. I went at this with determination for twenty minuets all the while constantly looking over my shoulder for people walking in. I was getting mad and fed up. I wished I had some black powder about then so I could have poured it through the vent at the back of the cannon added a fuse and blown the thing out.
Now I know most of you are thinking "why not just leave it in there it's not that big of a deal". Well it had become one because it defied me and really got under my skin more that normal stupid things do. I took a break from my fruitless endeavor to help some people and to re think my approach. My next big idea involved a shop-vac and some duct tape but that too left me with no results. So after exhausting my abilities with the tools I could find I called the parks department. The guys that run the department are great men and when I told them about my predicament, I'm sure they though me crazier than usual. But being the sweet men that they are one of them begrudgingly showed up with a homemade spike (like the kind made for picking up cans on the side of the road). His technique for retrieving the super ball from the cannon was reminiscent of a National Geographic special on apes and how they use tools. After about 5 min he managed to poke the ball so many times that it actually crumbled and with a gentle tilt of the cannon all the colorful super ball pieces fell out of the cannon.
After the deed was done the Parks Dept. guy left and there I was holding the crumbled remains of what had been my sole mission in life (for that day anyway). As I looked at the pieces I realized that this was an old super ball and had actually been in that cannon for quite a while. I can guarantee that none of those little heathens had been the ones that tamped that ball down the long bored out hole that is "the" Cannon and all that irritation had been for naught..... Nah!
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