The Spencers

I wanted to say bye to old spencer, my history teacher. He was a good guy, sometimes if you thoguht about him though, you wondered what his point was. I mean he just sorta stooped over and if he dropped a piece of chalk in class, there was no way he could pick it up himself. Some guy on the front row had to get up and pick it up for him. But then if you thought about him more, you realised he was actually doin pretty well for himself. For example, he was tellin us once about buying some battered up old blanket. I mean, you take a guy old as hell, and he gets a kick outta buying a blanket. Yea, so i went in and Mrs Spencer opened the door, she seemed glad to see me...she asked how I was and i asked her the same but she didn't hear me, she is sorta death you see. Nice enough though.
Mr spencer was in his room, all wrapped up in his blanket with his chest showing. The smell of Vick welcomed me with its sickingly scent room. Mr spencer said about how he had met my parents, said they were grand. I hate that goddam word, Grand. It's so phoney.
Mr spencer was ill, I am not too keen on old sick people, it's pretty depressing.
So yeah, after a while of chatting I couldn't stay any longer. Miss Spencer asked if I wanted a cup of hot chocolate but I had to decline, i needed to go to the gym. Made me sad as hell saying bye, went anyway.