A Night at the Opera . . .

Phantom mask with booksDasad arrived ten minutes before the curtain rose.  Luckily I had anticipated my friend’s dragonboat practice and emailed his ticket earlier.  Nearly all seats had filled by then, stuffed with men and women in varied degrees of pain.  I remained seated as we shook hands and exchanged pleasantries.

“Sorry dude, but this is the least uncomfortable contortion I managed in the last half-hour.  If I lose it, I might begin to cry,” I said pointed to my knees tightly wedged under my chin.  Behind my ear, my left toe twitched miserably.

“Seriously, I’m this close,” I said pressing my thumb and index finger together, “to sawing off my feet until this thing is over.  If you think I’m kidding hand me a pen-knife.” Continue reading

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