Standardized Tests

He tried to ignore the rumble as another section of floor dropped away into the abyss. The space around his desk was riddled with black holes, and the hungry wind that blew from beneath clawed at his ankles. He tried to focus on the task in front of him. The words swam in his vision, and sweat rolled down his forehead to make dark spots on the cheap paper.

Spandrel : Architecture :: Hiccups : ?

He nearly bit his pencil in half. This wasn't his field. Why? he thought bleakly, why hadn't anyone thought to train him for this?

Train a Child Up in the Way He Should Go

A man can bend a tree if a child but bends a twig. That, Grigor reflected, was the simple truth of it. A child exposed to a variety of foods learned to enjoy exotic flavors. A child encouraged to ask questions learned curiosity and creativity. Harshness and discipline begat austerity; love begat kindness. Thus the cycle continued.

"Pay attention," said Grigor. He placed an eighteen-inch piece of sharpened wood into Toby's pudgy hands. He pushed a button, and the next slide popped onto the screen. "We'll start with an easy one. Notice the pale skin and, most importantly, the teeth..."

Brains

Finch pushed back his hat. "Naw, we got this. C'mon, Buford. Show 'em your stuff."

Buford, his gray skin dry and sun-bleached, shambled out. He wore a ten-gallon hat atop the shreds of scalp on his skull.

Finch clapped his hands. "What does a donkey do, Buford?"

"Brrraaays."

"And how do you steer a horse?"

"Rrrreeiins."

Finch turned to the others with a wide grin. "Somethin' else, ain't he?"

Tucker and Will glanced at each other. Tucker spat. "Still thicker'n a shit sandwich."

Finch frowned. "Hey, Buford. What is it these two ain't got more'n a teaspoonful of between 'em?"