Tag Archive: saul poplar


The first of a series of  Springfield Halloween  writing prompts, which will eventually connect together! The prompt for this one: “Where on earth did you get a horse?”

What’s going on? Check out the Previous Segment over on The Art of Observation!

Hey Trudy, can you come out here for a sec?”

Trudy Hainz looked up from the blood-and-guts sundae she’d been preparing and took the opportunity to wipe some very red sprinkles off onto her apron. She glanced around the crowded soda fountain-turned pirated ship, trying to locate the source of the voice, before she realized it was coming from outside on the street. “Saul?”

Her voice was lost in the chaotic chatter of sugared-up customers and the sound of the door closing. “Brian!” she shouted to the closest costumed adult. “Is Saul out there?”

The math teacher straightened his eye patch miserably and gave a cursory look out the door. Trudy watched with interest as her friend’s shoulders froze, tensed, and then settled into that really stressed hunch that they did whenever their owner was about to lie. “Uh…no?”

Trudy sighed and quickly piled some green whipped cream onto the sundae. There was no reason for it to be green, but she’d had it left over, and she had to use it on something. “Tell him I’ll be right out!” With a flourish, she handed the sundae over the counter to Seth Mercury. “One blood-and-guts deluxe sundae!” She looked at the teen closely. “This really, really sugary desert wouldn’t be for Timothy, would it? Because it’s nearly seven o’clock, and he’ll never sleep.”

Seth’s eyes flickered from Trudy’s face to the sundae to the tiny bit of blonde mop just visible over the edge of the counter at his waist. “Uh…no?”

Trudy pretended not to hear the stifled giggle from under the counter and nodded sternly. “Good. Because any wizard worth his salt is wise enough to keep sugar away from hyper seven year olds after nightfall!”

He’s a dinosaur wizard!” Timothy Green protested indignantly. His adorably ruffled head appeared from where he’d been ducked down behind the counter, giving up his hiding place out of indignation. The headpiece of his dinosaur suit was askew, and Seth straightened it out of habit with the hand not holding the ice cream.

Trudy nodded wisely. “A dinosaur wizard! Of course, I should’ve seen that. Well, Mr. Dinosaur, you better make sure that your wizard there doesn’t give you too much sugar, alright?”

Timothy nodded solemnly. “You bet, Ms. Trudy!”

The woman smiled affectionately and winked at Seth. “Have a good time.” She received a resigned smile just before Timothy grabbed his sitter’s hand and tugged them both out the door.

She heard the little boy’s voice say, “Hey, Mr. P, that’s awesome!” right before the door shut on the cool outside air again.

Interest officially roused, Trudy dusted off her hands again and swung open the counter partition to get out from behind the register. The sound of laughter from her right distracted her for a moment. She signaled to Brian to mind the register for a second and deliberately ignored the panicked look she got in return. “But Trudy–”

She held up a hand to stall his complaints. “No buts! You promised you’d help if I covered for you! If you don’t want to take the register for a couple minutes, then you can go right over and take your turn in the dunk tank!”

Brian was defeated, and they both knew it. With a belabored sigh, he marched over to the counter. Smothering a smug grin, Trudy carefully straightened the ruffle-trimmed bodice of her pirate barmaid costume and gathered up the ends of her full skirt in one hand before turning to see what the noise was about.

The crowd over in the barber shop had lessened for the moment; Mr. B was entertaining a few people in the apple bobbing line with his authentic pirate accent. He caught Trudy’s eye and winked at her. The huge red cockatoo on his shoulder chose that moment to squak loudly, shake out its multicolored tail feathers, and announce, “Awk! Shiver me timbers, matey!”

It still made Trudy laugh, even after three hours of listening to the bird talk. She made her way over to the barber and gave the bird’s head a stroke. “He really is something, Mr. B. A talking bird! You went all out this year.”

Eugene grinned proudly at her. “That I did, lassie. Whatcha be needin’ from the Dread Pirate Bud?”

Trudy giggled again and mocked a curtsy at him. “Just wanted to come pay tribute, Captain! If you and your first mate need anything tonight, you’re welcome to hop behind the counter and get a drink. We’re doing good business tonight.”

Speak for yourself, bar wench! No hair’s bein’ cut tonight, that I can assure yeh.”

Still, the place looks great. You and Ian did an amazing job.”

This much was certainly true. Bud’s Barbery and Trudy’s soda fountain had been converted into an impressive rendition of a pirate ship, wood planks and all. The barber chairs had been cleared away to make room for the apple bobbing barrel, and the far wall was dedicated to an old-fashioned ring toss. It was only then that she realized that she and Eugene were the only pirates in the room. “Where’d Ian go?”

Eugene gave a theatrical sigh and pointed towards the cashier counter. It took Trudy a moment to realize that Ian Rollands, barber assistant extraordinaire, was actually folded up underneath it. Ian was a tall guy, but he’d managed to work his way into the space, and now sat folded in on himself. He had a book on his knees which he studied with feverish intensity. His lips moved soundlessly, and Trudy was pretty sure he was plugging his ears with his fingers. He was using the fake pirate hook on his right hand to turn the pages. She looked over at Mr. B questioningly. “Midterm?”

Midterm,” Eugene agreed. He lowered his voice, and for the first time all evening he dropped the pirate speak. “His social perspectives class. Worthless teacher gave them the review a week late. Normally I’d make him walk the plank for leaving me with the apple-bobbing mob, but he’s worried about this one. I’ve got him running the ring toss when people ask for it.”

Trudy smiled at him knowingly. “Why Captain! You’re nothing but a big softy!”

Arr!” Bud growled, waving his parrot-free arm threateningly. “Be gone, yeh scurvy cur, before I make yeh walk the plank!”

Awk! Walk the plank!”

Trudy laughed and did as she was told, finally making it to the door to step outside. She worried that Saul might have already left because she’d taken so long to get away. For a moment she only noticed the cold October air against her skin and the noise of the laughing crowds moving up and down the sidewalk.

But then she saw the horse.

It was a huge, black thing with slim legs standing patiently in the road outside the shop. Trudy didn’t know much about horses, but she thought that this one was beautiful, all glossy flank and shining hair in the streetlights. For a moment, Trudy only stand there aghast, staring up at the caped, black-masked man on the horse. He tipped his hat to her, and a little light glinted off the brim that came down over his eyes. She had to admit, it was pretty impressive. “Where on earth did you get a horse?”

Saul Poplar grinned at her and flourished with an arm, showing the red lining of his cape. “Good evening, Senorita,” the man intoned in a bad Spanish accent.

Hi, Saul,” she said rather weakly. “I mean, Senor Zorro.” She cautiously approached the second grade teacher and his horse.

Saul dismounted with the fluid ease of someone who was naturally comfortable with horses. He patted the beast’s flank affectionately. “He’s really something, isn’t he?” he said in his normal voice. He reached out and grabbed Trudy’s hand, reeling her in until she could touch the horse’s silky mane. “I only have him for the night. Figured Sid here could help me win that couples’ contest, isn’t that right, boy?”

Trudy was now stroking the horse’s neck with reverence. “Sid?” she asked curiously. It seemed like an odd name for such an impressive animal.

His full name is Black Obsidian,” Saul said with a shrug. “Kind of a mouthful if you have to shout it every time the posse catches up with you.”

For a moment the two of them just stood there smiling goofily at each other, their fingers only a few centimeters apart on Sid’s flank.

Wow, Mr. P!”

The moment was abruptly shattered as two of Saul’s students rushed up. Their teacher had to reach out a hand to steady the horse. “Woah! Easy, guys. Sid here is a real show horse, you have to be a little quieter around him. Don’t want him spooking from all the noise.”

The boys clustered around the horse excitedly, and Saul and Trudy exchanged an ironic smile. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Look, are you free later? I’d love to take you on a ride.”

Trudy fought down a blush, but just barely. “I’d like that,” she agreed, almost despite herself. “Maybe once the crowd dies down?”

I’ll swing by,” Saul promised with a grin. Then, with a sigh, he turned to the excited boys. “Alright, who wants to go first? Just one quick ride, up and down the block!”

Over the enthused yelling that followed, Trudy heard Brian’s voice from behind her as someone opened the door to the shop. “Trudy! Help!”

With a sigh of her own, Trudy turned her back on Saul and his horse, and went to go pry Brian’s fingers from the sticky register.

Want more? Read the Next Part over on The Art of Observation!

From the writing prompt, “Careful, I’ve heard they can sense fear.”  (Saul is a new addition to the Springfield cast of characters, but I quite like him.)

Alright, everyone! It’s time to go home!” Saul Poplar clapped his hands enthusiastically. The sound was mostly lost in the raucous cheering of eighteen second-graders who’d just been told their weekend was in sight. In the ensuing rush of packing up, Saul made his way across the classroom to take his customary station by the back door.

He waited patiently until all eighteen students were lined up, more or less in single-file, all watching him expectantly. Timothy Green was practically standing on his teacher’s toes. The boy bounced a few times until Saul put a hand on his head and firmly anchored him to the ground. “Let’s say thank you one more time to Mr. Cramer for taking a whole day off to come tell us about being a TV personality!”

As one, the students looked over their shoulders to wave enthusiastically at their guest speaker of the day and chorused “Thank you!”

Carson Cramer waved back and beamed at them. “Thank you all for having me! And remember, no matter what Mr. Poplar tells you, being a news anchor is hard work!”

“Because news never stops!” several kids piped in, quite proud that they remembered his catch phrase.

Carson winked at them, which caused several of the girls to giggle, and then turned to start packing up the things he’d brought along to help with his demonstration.

Saul rolled his eyes affectionately, and then he reached for the coats. This had become something of a ritual for him; his empathic sense let him get a bit of a read on each kid’s mood through their possessions, at least since lunchtime when they’d last put their things on. And since the items had been sitting for a few hours, the vibes were mellowed enough that he didn’t get a headache from running across someone’s bad day, either.

He reached out and grabbed Timothy’s hat from its peg. He was completely unsurprised by the pang of sadness that echoed somewhere deep inside his chest as he pulled the hat all the way down to cover the boy’s eyes. Saul put one hand on Timothy’s shoulder for a second and re-straightened the hat with the other. “You did great today, Timothy. You were a big help to Mr. Cramer. I bet your parents would be proud of you.”

Timothy looked up at him and smiled, mind clearly on getting out of the classroom to do all the fun non-school things he had planned. “Thanks, Mr. P.” Saul knew full well that the words wouldn’t make up for Timothy’s need for the parental affection he got so rarely from his often-absent parents. But he felt the boy’s mood lift a little through the hat he still touched. It was something, anyway. Hat now properly adjusted, Timothy dashed off to his weekend.

Saul smiled after him, and then turned to the next student in line. Penny Dabbs looked up at him expectantly, and he smiled. “Hi, Penny. Have a good weekend! Eat a donut for me, alright?” He felt the brown-eyed girl’s pride in being picked as hall-monitor today still lingering in the purple wool of her scarf. Saul bent to be eye-level with her as he tied the scarf into place around her neck. His brow creased with worry; the happy emotions otherwise present were dulled, as they were so often lately, by Penny’s chronic tiredness. He spoke a little softer as he looked her in the eye. “Do your parents know you didn’t sleep very well this week?”

Penny shook her head, unusually silent. Saul nodded in understanding. “Maybe you should tell them.”

“Thanks, Mr. Poplar.” Her smile was small, but genuine. She took her purple hat as he handed it to her and put it on without her usual vigor as she left the classroom.

And so the line went, as Mr. Poplar spent a moment of time with each of his kids on their way out the door. The occasional word of encouragement or gentle reprimand, always spoken at the right time in the right tone, had a marked effect on each student as they left the room. At long last, all the second-graders were gone, the classroom empty except for its teacher and its guest speaker.

With a long sigh, Saul popped his neck and then crossed the room to Carson, pausing to straighten chairs and pick up trash along the way.

His friend watched him with a thoughtful expression, and the Scot’s blue eyes twinkled with something like admiration. “You’re right brilliant with the little ones, Saul. I’ve never seen a herd of seven year olds love someone like they love you. How d’you put up with ‘em every day? I’d go mad if I had your job.”

Saul gave an easy shrug as he reached the other man’s side. The truest answer–that he could read people’s emotions through inanimate objects and thus correctly gage their mood—wasn’t really a viable response. To buy time, he spun on his heel and tossed a wadded ball of construction paper in a perfect three-point shot to the trash can in the far corner of the room. “Ah, they’re great kids. Besides, Career Week gets them all excited. They always behave better when they have speakers to impress.” He reached out his hand. “Thanks again for coming in, Carson. I know you’ve got a million things to do.”

Carson clasped the teacher’s hand with a strong grip and a smile. “Ach, it was the least I could do. Besides, this was the easy lot. I have to show a bunch of misbehaving high schoolers around the set on Monday as a reward for some science fair.”

Saul snorted at that mental image. “Careful, I’ve heard they can sense fear.”

The TV anchor shook his head a little as he snapped the final microphone case shut. “In this town, I wouldn’t doubt it. It’d be a right handy skill, though, in my business.” He chuckled to himself. “And probably in yours too, come to think of it.”

There was really no way for Saul to answer that but with a very honest, “Yeah, it really would.” He went over to collect the last two jackets on the pegs. He put on his own jacket and scarf before scooping up Carson’s long gray coat.

He actually had to close his eyes and lean against the wall for a second as a muddled ball of confusion, exhaustion and maybe a little bit of fear expanded from the center of his chest and spread out to leave his fingers tingling. His head hurt for a moment from the echoes of what must have been the killer tension headache Carson had been fighting when he donned his coat this morning.

Saul shook his head firmly and the emotions faded to a dull unease. It all took less than a few seconds, and when he turned and handed Carson his coat, his expression was clear of the emotions he now knew his friend had been feeling all day.

He handed Carson the garmet silently. The other man accepted it with a smile. “Thanks, lad.” He put his cases on a nearby desk to slip it on.

Saul watched him with new attention. Now that he looked for them, he could just see the lines around the other man’s mouth and eyes that told of his suffering through a monster headache that would have made the average person stay home from work. He could see the tiredness in Carson’s frame now, too, a slump to his normally straight shoulders that Saul felt guilty for not noticing before now.

If Saul hadn’t felt the maelstrom of unpleasantness from Carson himself, he would never believe that someone could be in that much turmoil inside and barely show a trace of it to the outside world. How the man managed to pull it off was a mystery. Impulsively, he reached out to straighten Carson’s jacket collar where it stuck up on one side. He took the opportunity to look his friend squarely in the eye. “Hey. You doing okay?”

Carson blinked, genuinely surprised by the worry in Saul’s voice. “Aye, ‘course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

When he only received a raised eyebrow in response, he sighed, and his shoulders slumped a little more under Saul’s hand. “I’m alright, really. Just haven’t been sleepin’ well, is all. You know how it is. Doctor says it’s just stress, I’ll come through it eventually.” He gave a wry grin and shook his head. “Never can fool you, can I?”

Saul let go of him to button up his own jacket. “Someone’s got to keep you on the straight and narrow. You’re too good at acting for your own good, but I could practically feel that headache from across the room.”

Carson’s mouth twitched into another smile as they headed for the door. “Are you sure you can’t sense things a wee bit after all? Because I could use you as a news story. Saul Poplar, the Sensational Second-Grade Teacher!”

“You must be having a slow news week. You’ll have to try harder than that, my friend.” He let Carson precede him through the door and paused for a second to look over the rows of desks, each one still radiating with the emotions of their occupants. To Saul, it was almost as if his class was still in the room.

The Sensational Second-Grade Teacher. Well, maybe he was. But it wasn’t only because he just happened to be able to feel his student’s emotions through their hats. The thought was a comforting one. With one last look around the room, Mr. Poplar turned off the lights and went to walk Carson to his car.

The classroom stilled, warm and empty, and though he didn’t know it, a vague outline of Saul’s compassion lingered in the doorway long after he was gone.

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