The first day of school sometimes comes all too quickly. Not this year.
See, it was my first day of comedy college.
And fairies take laughter seriously.
I looked all around the commons and immediately felt at home. Over in the corner were a group of Jesters, those brave fairy masters of pure physical comedy. The art form of self-depreciating humor through trips and bumbles really didn’t make a big splash on the scene before the Middle Ages. Although Jesters are rarely called upon anymore, I gave them a big smile and a wave as I walked past. One of them stood up to wave back, but the chair slipped out from under him, and he crashed to the floor. Genius.
Another group you could find on campus was the Twisters. They had a knack for nudging things to set off a ridiculous chain of events. One time I saw a Twister loosen a thread in a mom’s yoga pants when he did the laundry. When she bent over to pick up her kid’s toys, the seam of her britches split wide open. This made her one year old howl with glee. The uncontrollable laughter of the baby startled the cat. The cat scrambled to get away from the shrieking baby and launched itself off the couch and hurdled over the coffee table, knocking off an entire bowl of cheese puffs the mom had been munching. Next thing you know, the peacefully sleeping dog was covered in head to toe in cheese puff dust. Brilliant.
We even have a highly trained, specialized department called THTSDTMBLAN, more commonly known as The Highly Trained, Specialized Department That Makes Babies Laugh At Nothing. Where that ridiculous acronym came from has to be a story unto it self. The Faders have maybe the hardest job of all. Invisibility. It takes a special type of fairy to be always anonymous and never take credit for one single peal of laughter. The next time you see some kid giggling at thin air, remember to say, “Good job, Fader!” They’ll appreciate that.
I was headed for none of those departments. I looked down at my portfolio. I had a whole new path for this college to take. My specialty was electronics. I was eager to show the Dean how I had successfully mastered tinkering with gadgets to give them Electronic Tourette’s. That’s right. I could make robots swear. And no one would ever be able to discern why or when it would happen next.
I was at the Dean’s door. I took a deep breath and knocked.