Improv

Flashback:

Its Monday. Lunchtime.

Im standing in the Evan Burge drama room. As usual, my shoes are off.

Across the room, Yusuf and Roger are watching on in anticipation.

My right hand is raised in the air. I prefer to call it, an unmoulded gesture. The gesture is not symbolic. Not yet, it is like a lump of clay. While its clay, it can be moulded into something. Something that represents an emotion. Anger, joy.... The same goes for my hand, it has yet to take a definative form. A form that will continue on the story of our little tale.

My left hand runs across Eans chest. If he were a girl, I would be either a very happy man, or a man with a slap running across the cheek. Pitifully, he is not a girl. He does not have boobs. =.='

So anyway, there we are. 2 guys. In an odd position. With 2 other onlookers wondering what will be my next move.

And Im there standing, thinking :

"........................."
".............................."
"....................................."
"............................................."
"........................................................"
"...................................................................fuck....."
"........................................................"
"............................................."
"....................................."
".............................."
"........................."

previously a year ago, I would have little problems getting out of these sort of situations. My mind was still fresh, sharp. The edge of the blade would slice through a leaf falling onto it. But now, I am nothing but a dull rusting blade. At my prime, I would eagerly sought out such situations in theatresports for the thrill of being able to evade most certain stupidity by coming up with something equally stupid and ridiculous.

But now, my mind is numb, I try to force myself to say something totally random, but I cant.

" OMG!! Look! Its a tyrannasurarosharusasorous."

"A what?!?! Omg! There it is!"

Sigh, a desperate attempt to continue the show, only to be met with an equally unglamourous response. :\

What happened to my improv abilities!!

Sob sob.

My list of credentials has grown ever shorter.

For I am an underachiever.