Snap, crackle, pop

Last night in improv class, something popped. In a good way. Like an eardrum, once you’re off the plane. In one exercise, everyone in the scene was supposed to be angry. That was the only rule: be mad. We took turns starting these scenes. I was the last person to start one– I’d been delaying. I don’t do agression very well. Someone (anyone) was supposed to step out and join me once I’d started something. So I stepped out and started yelling and pointing, as though I had a classful of children around me: “Listen, you little…” with much swearing. I whipped around, really not sure what was going to happen, and there behind me were two of my classmates writhing on the floor and making hyper-whiny subhuman gremlin sounds, the most obnoxious little brats you could possibly imagine. Suddenly it was quite clear to me that I was a charm school instructor.

After some chasing, I pulled out some handcuffs (from the imaginary handcuff cabinet) and cuffed them together. Then they clotheslined me. This morning on the train, I suddenly got a mental picture of those two writhing on the floor. And I really almost cracked up. I think I was out of my head.

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