Panties and Parabolas...And Other Tales Of My High School Career
an excerpt

My hands began to shake, a little at first but growing with every second. Even as I stood still, my wrists rotated my hands as if I couldn’t stop telling people that my performance was going to be so-so. I thought if I gripped the microphone, surely that would stop my twitches. That only cause the cord connected to it to wave like a water moccasin coursing through a river, rippling and cascading in a few soft waves.

I’m trembling about, losing all control of my nervous system, and cheekily smiling, begging for God to stop this natural chaos. Then Fate spun the wheel.

And landed on the whammy.

As I twitched, I missed the words “Bust it” and the song had started. I heard the predominant bass riff and the panic button was pushed. You’re twitching like an entire epileptic convention and now you’re doing rap! the previously helpful voice screamed. I swear I heard a Screw this followed by the sound of gathering luggage, footsteps, and a door slam.

My self-support system just left me.