Now it can be told

My elementary principal was a friend of my parents, sort of their age, would come over once a year or so for steaks 'n' scotch.  A good guy, really.  We'll forget that he turned health nut and took away all ice cream and sweet snacks when all the other schools in the system still had all that.  RESENTMENT!  No, what I want to talk about was how, like Harold Ross, he abominated whistlers.  We were all told not to whistle at assemblies and other gatherings.  Then, once, in 5th or 6th grade, I decided to whistle for the hell of it.  The next day, on the morning announcements, he said "The assembly yesterday went great, except for the fact that someone WAS WHISTLING."  Did he know it was me?  Does he now, somewhere on a ventilator or golfing or tripping over a can of paint and breaking a hip?  DOES HE?

It was me, man.