The Smurf Massacre

In high school, my Spanish teacher was Ms. Brady. Very interesting lady and very well liked. She was tough and fair and had a great sense of humor. And a bit quirky. She owned a Python named Slick and she collected Smurf figurines. 

 

Yes, Smurfs. She had a whole shelf of them she collected over the years. I don't remember why she had them exactly but she protected them fiercely. Every now and then someone would sneak one out of her room just to see if she noticed. She did. And it wasn't pretty. 

My senior year I took AP (Advanced Placement) Spanish. There were five of us in the class - 4 girls and Jose. Three of us girls were pretty close. We decided one day to write a poem for Ms. Brady's Smurfs. I leave it for you below...

The Smurf Massacre

Roses are red

Smurfs are blue

We want 'em dead

How 'bout you?

We'll get out the rat traps

The pea shooters, too.

Then we'll see if Smurf blood is blue!

We'll string 'em all up

Punch 'em in the nose

And then after that

We'll hang 'em by their toes.

Papa's a whimp

Smurfette's a flirt

Brainy knows nothing

And Baby plays in dirt.

We love Gargamel.

Azreal's cool.

So we don't know why

You bring Smurfs to school.

We don't really mean it

It was all said in jest

We truly hate Gargamel

So give 'em all our best!

Luckily, Ms. Brady was smart and knew who wrote it and laughed it off as a senior prank of sorts. We had a lot of fun writing that poem. Probably during one of our "Culture Days" where we'd get Cuban gyros and bring them back to class. 

Ms. Brady passed in 2007 or so. I don't know what came of Slick or her Smurfs. I do know that she left a legacy of being a great person behind. Thank you for everything, Ms. Brady.