Okay, I tried dancing. My dad insisted that I take Irish Dance lessons. Have you ever seen River Dancing? It's ridiculous. I was not a good dancer. The dance teacher had me do hop scotch. She was not impressed with me. I guess I should point out I was twelve. Sister pugnacious was kicking and in step. I liked the music and the sound of the bucrom as the feet pounded. I just stumbled a lot. You know your not talented when you step out in front of an audience and forget to River Dance. Everyone else was in line kicking and River Dancing. I just started and stumbled and did hop scotch. I don't know how much dad spent on the month of lessons, but he was visibly amused: laughing. Mom, had her Mona Lisa smile. Similar, flops occurred in the theater. I played Shylock and got all the words right, but kept tripping over the set. I bumped into fair Portia, causing her to hick-up through the rest of the play. This was one of many mishaps on the stage. I fell off the stage, but rebounded reciting my lines to the first row. A lot of Broadway shows like to interact with the audience; such as a deep cut on my hand, "It seems this contract will be signed in blood." I remarked as a motherly member of the audience banged me. My performances were limited by the drama teacher thereafter. It was onto the Chess club and the school paper: SMUDGE. I excelled at SMUDGE and did okay at chess. My favorite topic on SMUDGE was gossip. I exposed the the brownie thief. It was Miss Sheridan. She had access to the desserts before they were opened in the kitchen. I also revealed that Ralf had been cheating on three girls and he was a popular basket ball player. I was a top SMUDGE reporter. But, a frustrated actor. I love attention even if its bad. + ^ V |