Very sick notes

I was recently reminiscing about how towards the end of my days at the yuppie-factory called Pretoria Boys High School I didn't care very much about the consequences of my actions. I had already plotted my escape to a near-by private college for people who never quite adjusted to conventional schooling and one of the ways that I expressed my new found freedom from persecution was to write fake sick notes for whomever asked me.

I prided myself on being able to simulate the perfunctory, half-heartedly officious tone that an overworked mother-of-three might use when composing such a note but looking back it would have been so much more fun to give a twisted voice to the bizarre and tragic reality of suburban life in the conservative capital. Imagine:

"Edward will need to leave school early today for a doctor's appointment - his brother George, by far our favourite child has a rare form of Leukemia and we're hoping to harvest little Eddie's bone marrow before he's old enough to get a restraining order. He's already all up in arms about his human rights thanks to that communist-sympathiser of a history teacher your governing body chose to employ. Edward will probably be off school until we can transport him to school without getting the seats of the Volvo all bloody."

"Please excuse Cuthbert from class this afternoon - he has an enormous sebaceous cyst which needs lancing. The last time we left it too late and it exploded spontaneously at Jimmy Goldberg's birthday party, spraying this cottage cheese like pus all over the cake which was a terrible embarrassment (although it could probably only have improved the flavour knowing Gloria's cooking). It was especially trying as it happened just days after the poor boy's biological mother was arrested at the border again. Thanks so much!"