In fact, one could get burned by the sparks flying off the ax he was grinding and people had taken to avoiding him. Unfortunately he was in line ahead of me at Daddy’s Donuts so there was nothing to do but wait for his tirade to end or abandon all hope of an apple fritter and decent coffee. I had never understood why he was so popular with the parents. He was supercilious, a wizened gnome colored an unhealthy shade of old walnuts with a fringe of white hair that began behind his earlobes and straggled down his neck. He had a lovely voice, but tended to quote Restoration-era poets and sneered at his students whenever they questioned any decision or direction he gave them. The kids called him a jerk—usually with some grammatically questionable adjectives and adverbs tacked on. Daddy finally had to be directly rude to the drama coach and once reminded of the long line behind him, Biggers grudgingly stepped aside. I was careful not to meet his eye as I placed my order though I could feel his hard stare and smell the stale pipe smoke that clung to his jacket while I waited.
