“I’m sorry, they’re a little burnt.”
“A little? They’re black as a chalkboard!”
Elizabeth Hoover scowls behind Edna Krabappel, which she has laid her a plate of two sliced halves of a plain bagel on the kitchen islander. The fourth grade teacher picks up one of the slices and bites into it, willingly.
“Well? How is it?” Miss Hoover asks her.
“Mm, delicious,” Edna speaks a mouthful. She slowly chews the charred breakfast reaching for her glass of orange juice to wash it down. The moment Elizabeth has her back turn to grab her school bag hung by one of the kitchen chairs, Edna bends over and dumps the remaining burnt bagel into her cat’s food bowl making the feline screech and dart away.
On their way to Springfield Elementary School, Elizabeth has put the radio to the classical station. She loves the cellos, violins, and piano. Seated beside her in passenger, Edna looks out the window, bored. She’s not sure which is worse—hearing Ned Flanders’ Christian bible group stories, or Miss Hoover’s loud, screechy, instrumental tunes.
“Maybe we can do without Beethoven for a change,” she hears herself say, switching off the radio without a second thought.
“What is your problem, Edna?” Elizabeth snaps. She has stopped the car at a red light and looks to her girlfriend.
“My problem is that you have too much control in our relationship, dear,” Edna speaks in a sarcastic, sweet tone of voice.
“Too much?” Elizabeth repeats. She blinks through her round glasses.
“That’s riiight,” Edna sings.
“At least I’m trying to make it out of something instead of belittling everything!”
“Oh, I’m belittling, am I?”
“Yes! You’re doing it right now!”
“Ned never seemed to think so,” Edna clicks her teeth.
“I thought we’d agree to not bring any of your exes whenever we argued?” Elizabeth scolds. “You compare me to them on a daily basis. It’s unfair.”
“Ha! Welcome to My World!”
Miss Hoover parks next to Seymour Skinner’s car in the teachers’ lot and starts unbuckling her seat belt with Edna already slamming her car door shut hard. She storms off towards the front entrance of the building. Elizabeth sadly watches after her.
Ralph Wiggum greets the mousy, short-haired teacher on the stone arc outside the school doors with duct tape wrapped around his face.
“Look, Miss Hoover! I’m a mummy for Halloween!” he declares.
“Ralph, you need toilet paper for that,” she sighs, helping him get down to bring them both inside to the classroom.