JONAH: Hey, my name is Jonah, and...I'm a nervous peer. (Wave nervously at unheard "Hellos.")
You know, like, some people eat whenever they're nervous, or throw up, or even freeze? Well, it's just like that...only with pee. I don't know why I do it; I just do. Whenever I'm put on the spot, or something unexpected happens, or someone just straight up scares the piss out of me, well...yeah.
For instance, in kindergarten, my teacher's name was Mrs. Bigowitz - good God, I hated Mrs. Bigowitz. She had a special way of making kids cry. She'd ask us questions and pick us off one by one like she was fresh out of American Sniper. Anyway, one particular day in class, we were reciting the colors of the (Make a rainbow arch with hands.) rainbow. Before she even reached me, she already left five weeping children in her wake. I began shaking, awaiting the inevitable.
(Acting as both himself and Mrs. Bigowitz.)
MRS. BIGOWITZ: "Now, Jonah, it's your turn."
J: "Can I go to the bathroom, please?"
MRS. B: "Jonah, tell me the colors."
J: "Mrs. Bigowitz, I really need to-"
MRS. B: "Jonah."
By that time the dam had broken and I could feel my pants getting warm and soggy. I dropped my head in shame and began to recite the spectrum. Once I finished, she said,
MRS. B: "You can go now, Jonah."
But instead, I sat back down and told her to forget about it. I could sense everyone's eyes drilling holes in my back, and my socks were starting to soak.
Oh, that's just the tip of the iceberg. Fast forward to my fifth grade Valentine's Day. I asked my mom if I could get flowers and chocolates for a very special someone, but she told me I would have to buy it all myself. Sadly, I was ten and flat broke, so I picked some dandelions from the playground and called it good.
When I handed her the makeshift flowers, you won't believe what happened. To my great surprise, she was allergic to the damn things! She fell to the floor, broke out in hives and began to cry; (Get on floor and start writhing.) I proceeded to do the same, only I pissed myself instead of breaking out in hives.
But wait, there's more! Now for the real kicker: the eighth grade talent show. Every year I would tell my friends, "Oh, I'm so going to be in the talent show," and every year I would chicken out and tell my friends, "Oh, I just forgot to audition."
Anyway, eighth grade rolled around and I decided to actually try out. Astonishingly, I made it, singing "Crush" by David Archuleta. In retrospect, that was a horrible song choice. Oh well, what's done is done. (Laugh abruptly then continue, slightly softer.) You got that right.
So let's just walk through what happened that day: I showed up to the gym and began practicing. Well, hey, I didn't sound too bad! Hopefully it would carry into the actual show. After I finished practicing, the entire student body began to shuffle in and fill the bleachers.
I'll save you all the little details that occurred here and there and cut right to the chase. At first I was doing real well! I was up on the stage, singing my heart out, with the music just...just flowing out of me... But what else began flowing? You guessed it. (Whisper to self, sadly.) Like Niagara...
I messed up. Big. I reached the chorus for the first time and cracked. Hard. (Begin singing with fake microphone in hand.) "Do you ever feel, when you're all alone... Oh, I can feel it..." Thankfully, the mic was on and everyone was watching, so I set it on the floor and walked offstage, leaving a fresh...trail.
Well...that was the past, and I'm happy to say that I've been clean for about two weeks. Not consecutively, but still, two weeks. Sadly you all have been staring at me for five straight minutes and, frankly, I can feel it starting to happen. So, thanks for the attention, and, can someone show me where the bathroom is?
