And now for something completely different. Actually, it was my latest story, Death in Venice Beach, that was something completely different. This is more the normal me; short, cute and twisted (I’m only 1.64 m tall).

I had started my new job as vice principal only a week earlier. When I say new, I really mean new. Let’s say I had taken a “small” time-out after my burnout, as in burn and crash, but now I was looking forward to work again. I had changed practically everything. Instead of the inner-city high school I now had started my new life in a small town deep in the forest a stone throw south of the border. Very isolated and very quiet. I also had changed to a middle school. All around less risk of encountering knives etc. Much more suitable for the tranquil life I was hoping for.

Even the warnings I had received reassured me. The worst students apparently were the “Terrible Three”, Tom, Dick and Harry. No joke, that really were their names. They were not evil future crime lords, only rambunctious kids with an excess of energy. It took only a week for them to end up in my office.

There they sat. Three stereotypical ragamuffins all of them with tousled hair and scabs on their bare knees. Well, mostly stereotypical.

Tom’s shorts just may have been clean when he left for school in the morning but there was little trace of that now. More intriguing was that his threadbare white t-shirt allowed his pink bra to be seen. If there had been any doubt, there was a pink bra strap visible in the wide neck opening.

“Tom, why are you wearing a pink bra?
“My usual white was so boring so I wanted something a bit more exciting.”

I had no response to that but I was a bit off-balance. Which together with my recent illness can be blamed for the unforgivable mistake I made then. I became sarcastic to a student.

“Dick, are you wearing a pink skirt because a black one is too boring?”
“Oh, not at all. I love my black skirt but Mom says it’s too short to wear to school”

Time for another retreat but my stupidity remained. I turned to Harry who by now had managed to comb his hair that was longer than the other boys’.

“Harry, I suppose the only reason you are wearing a pink dress is because your favorite skirt is in laundry?”

“Actually, it is. How could you know? Please Sir, could you call me Harriet instead of Harry? The reason I wear skirts and dresses is because I’m really a girl. A girl that is very fortunate to have two great friends.”