Celebrity sighting

I could feel my grump-o-meter rising and it was only a matter of time before this seemingly cordial situation would become a mess. It’s what always happens to me. If I don’t eat, I lose my shit. Something that I would generally brush aside without a thought becomes a point of contention, my face contorts, and everyone around me can see my visual disgust. My once jovial exterior has now become jaded, I am now the asshole simply because I forgot to feed myself.
I casually duck out and search for a nearby eatery. The foggy summer San Francisco night has an unnecessary chill to it. It’s not cold outside in a simple measure of temperature, but the air seems to pass right through my skin and bones settling into my marrow. Once there, it just won’t leave.
I also hate being cold. So, now cold and hungry, I avoid eye contact with everyone. An upsetting laugh in the distance, a cars rapid wasteful acceleration, a honk, I fucking hate horns. I also seem to be more perceptive in an agitated state, but only to things that will further justify my agitation.
Finally I see the golden arches, I despise McDonalds, but it is sustenance, cheap sustenance. I walk through the door and blankly stare at the value board. Nothing looks good, but it makes no difference.
I pull out a few crumpled bills from my front left pocket, and order a #2. Picking my cup up from the counter and turning towards the drink station, I see someone I know. Not a friend, or anyone I know personally, but they have just lightened my day.

What the Doctor didn’t know

“Congratulations Ms. Arble, he is a perfectly healthy baby boy!”
Diana Arble opened her arms as quickly as her weary body would allow, and embraced her newborn for the first time.
“Gregory.” she said as tears of joy fell down her cheeks.
“All of his vitals check out, heart, lungs, everything looks great…. except for one minor detail.”
Diane’s face dropped.
“Yes, well, as I said he is perfectly healthy. But, Ms Arble, your son will never be able to dance.”

Gregory Arble grew up knowing this one “fact” of life. He was sharp as a tack, an always honest good Samaritan, captain of the water polo team, and the best ceramicist in the tri-county area. However, as impressive as Gregory’s credentials were, he was mocked. Gregory was now a high schooler, and as we all know, dancing is part of high school life. In 8th grade he was king of the class, but freshman year brought about freshman mixers, and once the music started, Gregory knew his life was about to change.

“Gregory, come dance with me!”
“I’m sorry Margaret, I can’t dance, my doctor told me so”

Social suicide.

Margaret told everyone, and everyone laughed. His friends were no longer friends, his teachers stopped caring about his academic success, he was stripped of his captains Speedo, and Gregory, as everyone knew him, was gone.
The next three years Gregory was a ghost. Sure, he still attended school everyday, but the interaction he had with other kids was limited at best. Inside he was the same good person, and Gregory actually had a lot going for him, with of course one life altering exception.
Now, as a senior, this was supposed to be his year. His time on top, but having the title of “upper classman” did not give Gregory the respect he deserved. It was time to change that.

Homecoming is only one month into the school year, and Gregory knew this was his chance. Gilian Berdith. Gilian, a freshman, had no idea who Gregory was, and when approached by a senior to attend the homecoming dance, she blushed with excitement. It was her first dance, and despite the rumors she heard after accepting Gregory’s offer, she still wanted to go.
What Gilian didn’t know, what no one knew, is that Gregory had been practicing dance moves every day. He had been practicing dance moves everyday since that fateful night of his freshman year. Of course there was a voice in the back of his head, but he didn’t listen. He Practiced moves from the 70’s, 80’s, 90’s, Samoan war dances, tap, chorus line, any genre he could find a video on, he tried. While Gregory’s learning curve was steep, it was not insurmountable.

There was an eerie calm in Gregory as his put on his suit, a quiet confidence as he placed a red corsage on Gilian’s wrist, and when Gregory stepped through the converted high school cafeteria for his first homecoming dance, he was full of robust determination.

Everyone stopped and stared awkwardly, but Gregory didn’t budge. Then from the back of the room, someone screamed.

“Hey, this is a homecoming dance, not a not dance!”

This seemingly unwitty remark sent the entire attending student body into thunderous laughter. Gregory, however, was unphased.

The music began, and the dance floor cleared, except for one.
Gregory took his spot on the center stage, and the crowd gathered around. He spun a slow circle making eye contact with as many people as possible, and then, then, Gregory tore up the well worn brick to the likes that no one at Rabberson Creeek High School had ever seen before. Gregory’s studies had paid off and his multi genre/gender/generational dance cornucopia mesmerized his fellow students. Jaws dropped, minds were blown, and the smell of regret filled the room.
When Gregory finished with a perfectly timed splits, RC High erupted. They picked up Gregory on their shoulders and treated him like the king he was.

Gregory raised his hands above his head, and with a smile on his face quietly whispered.
“Fuck you doc, fuck you.”