Dear Mrs. Krabappel who art in heaven,
I was told that, in times like these, I’m supposed to pour one out. I don’t know what that means. I guess it’s my heart, so let me keep this quick because the Bartman doesn’t like getting mushy.
You were always the teacher I liked the best. As a matter of fact, it feels like you were my only teacher! What the hell?! No, wait, gotta get back on track. I liked you because you understood me. I drove every substitute teacher within city limits right back out of city limits, and even got those turnip-sucking Shelbyvillians a little afraid, but I only got you rattled a couple times. And you would always shake it off after a while. So a part of me bows down to you. You are Optimus Prime to my Megatron…or am I Soundwave? I AM SOUNDWAVE, WITH MY COOL ROBOT VOICE, OOT ZOOOT ZOOT ZOOOOR.
I knew way more about you than I cared to know: you and Principal Skinner, you and Groundskeeper Willie, you and Disco Stu, you and Apu, you and Troy McClure, you and Hans Moleman, you and Moe… (SHUDDER.)
There are things that went around that I didn’t know and really didn’t want to know, like your secret life before you moved to Springfield where you were a secretary named Carol. I figured it had something to do with some witness relocation stuff and, figuring I’d get to that place myself some day, I’d do you a professional courtesy to leave it alone. Even so, I bet you were a total badass in your former life.
I’m happy that you were happy with Flanders. At first I wasn’t. Who wants their teacher living right next to them. I mean, man, you might as well have been standing right over me watching me do my homework. And you know how skinny my dog is, so the “my dog ate the homework” ruse is shot. But after some time, I enjoyed the perks. Homer was less stressful because Flanders wasn’t preaching at him. I was less stressful because Rod & Todd weren’t creeping me out. It was all good.
But you know what else I found out? I liked having you around because we were a lot alike. Bet you raised some hell in your day, and I mean that way above the professional courtesy thing. You were my friend — a really old friend who was a girl, but a friend anyway.
I’m going to miss your “Ha!” more than you’ll ever know. I thought you were very funny all the time, especially at “with you” times, not just “at you” times. I have a feeling this is going to be really weird for Principal Skinner. It’s really, really weird for me. But I promise, if he starts acting jerky about your not being around here anymore, I’ll give him what-for twice; one for you and one for me.
Forever eat my shorts,
Marcia Wallace (1942-2013)