Wait? What!

I once saw a story so beautifully played. It was a pain to experience but beautiful to see…it started with a joke, a rather witty one. A man asked his love, “how can something you say make me happy and sad at the same time?” she responded by saying “I’ll tell you a story and you will know.”

And thus she recited:

A long time ago in a place far far away

There was once a theater troupe

Skilled in the arts was that group

They looked like tarts 

Rainbow colored were their farts

The subject of much envy

But also revered

The capabilities of these younglings were many,

Sport, speech, fight, love, write, drink and make merry

Some mustered crowds, others sent them packing

For any need they wouldn’t be lacking

“Ok, Enough with the rhyming, Why don’t you just tell me the story?”

"Okay, so now that we have established that this was the “It” group. There was a girl, because there is always a girl in a story, or rather any story worth hearing. So here goes…"

There was a girl, a young dusky beauty – doe eyed and bountiful – of perfect sculpted lips and uncommon wit. A fetching young thing, who enamored the troupe with her guile and quips. Obviously she became the desire of them all, and in the most manly of traditions – dibs were called. The youngest of the troupe had the first chance, a gifted debater he was. He weaved grand visions and made sure she saw them too, a wild kind of love erupted. One that usually culminates in cozy nooks and crannies, where lips meet and hearts pound. But, as is with most young love, the novelty wore off and expectations bore down. The rose tinted glasses were off and the world revealed itself in all its Technicolor glory. He was arrogant and this she would not bear.

So their befuddlement ended, enamored no more. They went about their separate ways, a little lonelier than they first met. In this fog of loneliness the doe eyed beauty played in the troupes next production, a fine performance. The accolades felt hollow, like a gust of wind to a becalmed boat. But, her north wind came. A lighthouse in her fog.

A silent friendship began, a little less warm. He was cold and distant, whose heart she sought to warm. A strapping lad with an iron will, his temper quick and forgiveness his bane, too close he used to hold every slight. 

But, he warmed, in the buxom lass’ embrace he thawed and shared how he was on a break. They began a great journey, full of fiery passion, finding solace in each other’s being. It went jolly well for a bit.

But, then. The passion burnt too bright, too bright to sustain. The anger never went away, and now they were on a break. Disconsolate he took to wine. She cried, her big doe eyes a window to her soul. 

In this weakness she found another friend, someone with honeyed words and a sad smile. His tone was smooth and even, she lost herself in the comfort. He was easy to talk to, and safe. Never did she wonder how she became smitten. She enjoyed his attention, the flattery, the genuineness of heart and intention. 

She concocted plans so grand, her heart beat a drum her bosom heaved a sigh. Their lips met and she went wild with joy…this was it “My last first kiss”.

Till she heard the same repeated to the newest lass, the new apple of everyone’s eye. He anger knew no bounds, screaming at them she ran away in a huff, mostly broken inside. Raging silently in a nook just outside, she heard them laughing saying "do you believe I could've been with her." Shame came unbidden, betrayal followed suit. Rage bristled and a dragon of anger awoke.

The next day at another play reading, she walked in hair flowing like a banshee, eyes burning and mouth frothing.

“Can you let go of the poetic license?” asked the boyfriend. “Patience love, for it is about to end. So, where were we?” asked the girl. “Your heroine’s eyes were burning and mouth was frothing” replied her man.

Eyes burning, mouth frothing. She walked into the play reading. Her anger a force of nature. And she spoke all their lies...Her words were terrible and they were left destroyed...After the calamity a calm ensued.

As she took a breath, her story at an end.

Thank you ladies and gentlemen for your patronage. An artist is incomplete without an audience, we hope you enjoyed our production and hope that you show your appreciation through your continued support. As the director took the buxom beauty's hand, she whispered softly into his ear “You are the best kisser among all your friends”

“So what was the point?” Asked the confused boyfriend. “You had asked me for a statement that was happy and sad at the same time”

“and that was it….”

“What was?”

“You are the best kisser amongst all your friends”