My Cardboard Balcony

Klutz by Belinda Roddie I fell up the stairs today - it's true, it was a momentary lapse of coordination. Twice, I barreled forward like a descending aircraft in the artillery shower of second doomsday. At least my knees were scathed, though one of my calves was not. The crowd all stared, not a hand offered to lift me from from yellow-painted embarrassment. What a metaphor it is: to plummet facefirst while climbing upward, Heaven's mocking smile above your head as you sink, quagmires sucking away at your bruised ankles and laughing as you file a meaningless injury report to mask your chagrin.

I wasn't sure what to do with my spare time in that classroom all by myself, so I decided to draw something on the whiteboard. It started as a square, but it ultimately transformed into a beaten down treasure chest, guarded by a crooked-necked dragon with green scales and three wings (who knew what the third wing was responsible for). When I was done with my masterpiece, my social studies teacher finally showed up, and his face was a perfect combination of both bewilderment and pleasant surprise.