#tinytimedisaster

The best thing about writing Alix is slipping in random history crap. My latest chapter, which you should all go read and comment on, references an obscure gentleman from about 100 years ago, so to help the reader, an extra section was added. I’m putting it here as well, because it feels more like an extra. Enjoy!

Hi.

~Ahem~

While I don’t like to derail my normal stories all that much, it’s time for a special non-linear segment relating to this chapter that wouldn’t fit in the notes. Welcome to Learning Fun with Ms. Bun!

***

The kids in Ms. Mendeleiev’s classroom were listless and idly chatting with one another as they waited for their teacher to arrive. It was unusual for her to be late, but admittedly, they weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Where do you think she is?” Ondine asked her lab partner. “It’s not like her to miss. Like, ever.”

Aurore was about to answer when the door to the classroom flew open. A tall redheaded woman wearing Jeans and a green sweater with a white buttoned collar rushed in. She was carrying a laptop under her arm.

“Hey everyone. Good afternoon and settle down. I’m your sub for this afternoon,” the redhead called out.

A young man raised his hand. “Where’s Ms. Mendeleiev?” He asked.

“Oh, she’s out for the moment, Jean,” the redhead said as she setup her laptop. “Had some business or some such to take care of. I’m just here for a cameo.”

“A what?” Mireille asked, confused.

The redhead looked up from her computer. “A cameo. Like, when a special guest appears in a show? Come on, you’re on TV, Mireille. You know what this is.”

Mireille shook her head. “But, this is a classroom. No one’s watching us.”

The redhead shrugged without looking up from her laptop. “Yeah, well according to the comments section, people are reading, so there.”

Mireille stared. “What?”

Aurore raised her hand.

“No more questions,” the redhead snapped. “Look, be thankful you all made an appearance. Chances are, half the readers won’t even realize you’re actual characters. Okay,” the redhead stood and straightened her sweater. “My name is Ms. Bun, and today, we’re going to learn some history!”

“But,” Ondine said. “This is science class.”

“An excellent observation, Ondine!” Ms. Bun said as she fired up the projector on the desk. Behind her, a grainy, black and white video started playing. “This, my dear temporary students, is Maxwell Stewart. Ole’ Max here was the first repeat winner of the World Ballroom Dance Champions. That’s him talking."

Ms. Bun smiled as the man, Max, fidgeted on camera. "Awww, look at him! He’s kinda nervous, but this was filmed nine years after his last win, so he’s a little out of practice with the public at this point.”

“Wait, what?” Jean asked, confused.

“I agree, Jean. But remember, this was after his prime.” Ms. Bun agreed. “Max was the first consecutive winner, the actual first being Victor Sylvester back in 1922, but he was a one-off and the competition was still getting it’s legs under it. In fact, they cancelled the 1923 competition due to the financial crisis at the time messing everything up, but starting in 1924, Maxy here won with the lovely Barbara Miles on his arm. In fact, they won two years in a row, but then Barbara was traded out for Pat Sykes who helped him win in ’26, ’28, and finally in 1930.”

“Is that her?” Mireille asked.

Ms. Bun glanced at the screen and chuckled. “Nah, that’s Peggy Rose. Ole Peg here never won, but she sure as Hell should’ve. Girl was smooth a silk on the dance floor, and she could hold her own at the bars. Helluva drinking buddy. Or so I’ve heard. This video is from 1939. Max is losing some hair here, and he had essentially retired to a conductor-slash-instructor role by this time, but he was good. He was really good. And when he held you close? God, he had this amazing scent about him, like a mixture of mint, leather, shoe polish, and a faint hint of rolled cigars, but not like the kind you’d smell today. I’m talking Princeps.” Ms. Bun closed her eyes and inhaled deeply as she remembered. “He smelled like your grandfather’s tool shed, but a tad more refined. It was great. Slightly hot, but that's neither here nor there.”

Ms. Bun turned to the extremely confused class. “Granted, there were other champions, and some that won far more times than Max. Heck, Arunas Bizokas and Katusha Demidova won a staggering ten times in a row, with their latest win being in 2018, but that doesn’t change the fact that Max had some class to his step. He did it back when it was simple and streamlined. Helluva teacher, too. Oh, here’s the link if you want to watch at home.”

Ms. Bun passed out slips of paper with the web address https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oxdSeonDDQo printed on them.

“Well,” Ms. Bun said, dusting off her hands and unhooking her laptop. “That’s been my informative follow-up to your reading today. If you have questions, your regular teacher can address them.”

“Um," Ondine asked. “What reading?”

“Thanks for having me, class. And hey, Aurore? Keep it down next time, will you? It’s rude to interrupt.”

Aurore was about to comment, but just as quickly as the eccentric redhead had entered the classroom, she was gone. A minute later, Ms. Mendeleiev quickly entered the room.