Also I glare at babies

My job is being a fancy hall monitor. By fancy I mean that I don’t move or say anything to anyone in the hallway, and just silently read novels and eat sandwiches. Today I read a crime novel and ate a roast beef sandwich. My story begins thusly:

As I wiped the crumbs from my mighty facial hair, a dance-mother and her three dancing children alighted upon my humblest of plastic folding tables. The children cooed incessantly for money to buy sodas and jellybeans. Their mother, obviously tired and sapped of money from the previous night spent at the bingo parlour, where her hands accumulated that most thick layer of nicotine and scabs, suggested that the children ask me for money. As she looked in my direction, expecting my smiling countenance to play it off as an elaborate joke, I just said ‘no’ in my angry-voice (regular voice) and glared at her and her children. They left rapidly, shamed by my stingy display. So is my story.

ps Being a fancy hall monitor does not pay well.

pps. In strange coincidence, almost the exact same story happened to Jasmine