Our own "it was thiiiis big" fish tales that amuse the skeptical and delight those who want to believe. It's as if for a brief moment in the mundane minutia of our day-to-day, we get a cosmic fifteen minutes of fame, like God rewrote the screenplay of our lives just to let us know He likes to laugh, too.
Quailman Glee.
In my senior year of high school I broke off from my usual electives and extracurriculars in band and tried two new classes: theater and choir. Choir was fun, I had done informal rehearsals and stuff for church but I had never been graded. I didn't think there was much to it. If you screwed up, you could just blend your mistake in with the others singing beside you, right? Oh no, the director was a cruel and strict taskmaster, you had to be in perfect synch with the other parts. She emphasized proper technique, volume control, good breathing, and not to mention memorizing the lyrics (some of which were Latin or Italian). We were nearing the end of the semester halfway through a grueling rehearsal in preparation for the End of Year Concert. Our director had broken off to talk with our pianist. We broke into various hushed conversations and shared complaints at the endless repetition and nitpicking of the rehearsal.
Suddenly some of the more rambunctious guys in the Bass line began doo-wopping, sidestepping and snapping, not to "My Girl" or some other Motown classic - but the opening theme song to the old 90s cartoon "Doug." For those of you who know it, you know it builds from the bass line and other parts gradually join in until, after one round of all parts harmonizing, the song ends at last with a Bobby McFerrin-esque beatboxing denouement.
As the basses began their doo-wop, the tenors joined in at the next part, soon accompanied by the altos and finally the sopranos' descant. For less than thirty seconds, we were all snapping and singing in an impromptu a capella rendition of a 90s cartoon theme.
It began suddenly. It ended too soon. We all broke into laughter.
Even our stern director cracked a smile at our spontaneity. This was random music, we didn't plan it, but the way we sang... you'd have thought we had. She applauded our mini-perfomance before returning us to our Latin piece.
It was fun. It was musical. It was NOT Glee. I cannot stress that enough. Glee didn't exist then. It doesn't apply, so don't you dare mention it.
Hot Pocket.
I know this is going to seem very Niles Crane of me, but I carried a pocket watch when I was in 7th grade.
Before you shelf me as the weird kid who chose a briefcase in lieu of a backpack and wore a cravat on picture day, let me explain. I don't normally prefer the antiquated over the modern (especially in middle school) I had worn plenty of wristwatches, but my active lifestyle of wall ball, dodge ball, kick ball and other alternative sports had always left their faces scratched to the point of illegibility; fashion repeatedly vanquished by function. So, one day at Wal-Mart I spied a cheap knock-off pocket watch spray-painted gold for six dollars. That fit my meager budget, so I began carrying around my new timepiece in my pocket, clipping the chain to the denim belt loop of my jeans.
I know...
Anyway, the watch is only one ingredient in this little experiment. One day I had stuffed in some new spare AA batteries into my pocket before leaving to catch the bus. I had noticed my portable CD player had been running low the day earlier, so I snagged some backups so as not to be left tuneless on my ride home. (kids, a CD player was something we used a long time ago before iPods, iPads and MP3s - we were a simple people)
One day in science class, ironically enough, I was starting to drift off during a lecture after lunch. Digestive sleepies strike again.
I was suddenly shaken from my drowsy reverie, however, by a sharp burning sensation on my thigh. Eager not to make a scene, I tried to cover my sudden leg spasm with a yawn and a stretch, surreptitiously trying to put out what felt like a fire on my leg. The contents of my pocket shifted and the heat died away. After a few moments I reached in said pocket to see what was burning me.
Nothing but my AA batteries and my pocket watch.
...and the watch's chain.
Some of you might be ahead of me now.
I remembered from a project we did on electricity in fourth grade that if you connect copper wire between a light bulb and both ends of a battery, the electrical current will travel between the battery's positive and negative ends, passing through the bulb and lighting the filament on its way. As I massaged my burned thigh, I quickly surmised that my watch's chain had done just that; chain and batteries had entangled in such a way that a current was established, but with no bulb to light, the chain and the watch connected to it instead began rapidly heating up, giving me quite a hot shock.
I wasn't the most honest person all the time, but it seemed that fate had at last tried to set my pants on fire.
For Goodness Sake
This last one isn't from my own life, but it's so cute I just had to share. My parents had taken the young kids still living at home to a church Christmas party. Lots of games and activities for the children, plenty of candy and goodies, and of course, Santa visited. Jolly old Nicholas invited all the eager young ones to hop up on his knee and make final revisions to their lists.
My youngest brother, then two years old, waited his turn in line for his chance to divulge his last minute desires and requests. When his turn at last came he marched confidently up to Mr. Claus.
On his way, Santa proclaimed, "I know who this is. This is Dallin! Have you been a good boy this year?"
Poor Dal froze. He hung his head despairingly and began to trudge away when Santa called him back and rewarded his honesty with a candy cane.
Whether it be a self-effacing toddler, an impromptu a capella cartoon sing-along, or a fire starter in your front pocket, there are certain moments of humorous kismet, cosmic irony or comedic timing that leave atheists scratching their heads and the rest of us smiling to ourselves.
What are some of your "too good to be true" moments?
S
Ooh, that's pretty harsh to kids who may have carried briefcases in school. :) Just sayin'.
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