“I caught myself staring at a man/woman with a suspicious looking beard. It was painted on his/her face–a face that looked decidedly feminine.”
“I trailed the snake fifty feet to a juniper at the corner of the building. Beneath the tree it curled its ungainly body into a corkscrew, raised its head, and fastened its eyes on me, its tail doing a rattle dance.”
Dylan comes inside. “What’s the problem? You’re making this a lot harder than it is.” He bats the unit a couple times, pulls out the accordion wings. “There. Screw it in. Done.”
A battle ensued. The individual edible flowers were interconnected with “tendons” that anchored them to the spiky peel and pithy center, and I had to slice and tug and rip and curse to get the flowers out.
My worst nightmare had just materialized–walking naked onstage in front of a live audience and having to perform some obscure skill–say ventriloquism–in order to save my life.
“No way!” I screamed inside. “No way you’re getting this mature lady on stage with all these experienced tappers, performing in front of a live audience.”
Aunt Lily was portly and white-crowned–the sweetest thing, and she was family, who deserved respect. Time to bring out the whoopee cushion.
I looked at our geriatric audience. Most were in wheelchairs. One woman was snoozing with her mouth open. Another was strangely gurgling.
The woman I’d met just ten minutes earlier smiled, lowered her eyelids, and began to sing–from a place that transcended the human who sat beside me.
It was obviously a youngster…frantically searching for its kin. Desperate to outrun the predator, it leaped and bounded, reaching a speed of 55 mph…