so on my main i told this tale of how this bitch i hated fucked up everything for me and i’m gonna repost it here
when i was 14, i joined speech choir.
So speech choir is this magically horrible thing where a group of half willing school students stand in rows and recite poetry and normally it sounds really cool but then half the students can’t read and it just sounds very bloody bland. As I kept saying, when the student who suffers from a disorder that literally stops your emotions has more emotions in their voice than you, you have a problem.
Anyway so the speech choir I joined was pretty damn shitty. Nobody wanted to be there except like two people, and those two people had somehow managed to convince about six people each to join. So you’ve got these fourteen students reciting poetry pretty blandly and nobody wants to hear it.
The poems we had to recite were ‘Enter without so much as knocking’ by Bruce Dawe and ‘Where the wild things are’ by Maurice Sendak. Which totally qualifies for a poem and the director will fight you. And I can still recite these poems by heart and oh Jesus do I hate having that ability.
We’re doing this for a competition in front of a big ass crowd one day all of a sudden and we all suddenly decide that we hate everything and we would kill someone just to get out of it because oh good lord it was TERRIFYING.
On top of the risk of falling off the damn staircase that I had standing at the edge, nobody was doing what they were supposed to which was PUT EMOTION INTO THE DAMN THING. We read a sad poem that could’ve been done well in the mOST BORING WAY POSSIBLE and I am ASHAMED.
Anyway so after the first poem we have to read the second one.
And someone had the brilliant idea to put someone in a costume.
Yeah, this brilliant idea that every student will have a mask except this one other girl (whom everyone hates, might I add) who is meant to be playing the character Max so she has a wolf suit. Brilliant in theory. But every good idea that is brilliant in theory is never brilliant in reality because I have spoken to God and he has abandoned us.
So the girl is putting on said wolf suit, when suddenly she stops. Nobody really has any clue what the everloving fuck is going on. We’re standing in our rows waiting to be told to start speaking. There’s obviously a problem and a couple of us are starting to freak out up here. Oh my god we’re gonna lose. Oh my god I’m gonna fall off. Oh my god I’m gonn- is her tail sewn on the wrong side?
So the tail of this bitch’s costume is sewn on the front instead of the back. Oh my god. I’m laughing just remembering this bloody thing. She looks like she wants to die, and my friend who was facing me is laughing her ass off. I’m trying not to break my sunken glare-y face that makes me look serious. The girl’s tugging on it and of course the audience has no idea what’s going on until they hear this whisper of ‘Fuck, it’s on the damn front’.
The girl had the option of leaving the tail alone, having this big ass white piece of fabric swaying to and fro as she pretends to be ten years old and dances around the stage like an idiot.
Or she can take the suit off. That’s a good idea, but of course everyone in speech choir has no good ideas until like 30 minutes after everything has happened.
So instead of going with option A or option B, she goes with some stupid third option.
To tuck it in.
She’s got this bulge now hanging out of her suit. The judges are shocked and you can literally hear the audience trying not to die, holding in their pathetic laughs. And we’re also trying to recite this children’s poem with the image of this girl having a bulge on her crotch as she dances around making weird yip yip noises and GOOD JESUS CHRIST IS THAT HARD.
Now, a year on, I can’t look at that book without thinking of it.
And let’s just say I’d rather die than join speech choir again.