Years ago I had a not-very-serious traffic accident (not my fault!) involving a luxury car driven by a drop-dead gorgeous girl. She looked like the young Angelina Jolie...in fact, maybe she WAS the young Angelina Jolie, I don't know.
Anyway, we got to talking while we were exchanging insurance information and it turned out she belonged to some kind of New Age crystal religion (I love LA for attracting people like that) and in her religion someone like me is considered to be an, um, advanced man...the (Ahem!) next evolution, so to speak. Was it my buck teeth? Something I said? I don't know, but she felt she had to do something for me to make up for inconveniencing an advanced being like myself. She said she would do anything, absolutely anything.
Anyway, we got to talking while we were exchanging insurance information and it turned out she belonged to some kind of New Age crystal religion (I love LA for attracting people like that) and in her religion someone like me is considered to be an, um, advanced man...the (Ahem!) next evolution, so to speak. Was it my buck teeth? Something I said? I don't know, but she felt she had to do something for me to make up for inconveniencing an advanced being like myself. She said she would do anything, absolutely anything.
Well, it happened that I was due to stage a debate for my kid's third or fourth grade class on the subject of whether "Riki-Tiki-Tavi" (actually a different book with a similar name) was really a good book or not, and I needed someone to debate. I asked if she would do it and she enthusiastically agreed. When I got home I sent her the book.
Finally the day of the debate rolled around and she was a little late. The kids were getting restless and just as we were about to start without her, her incredibly expensive car pulled up and she...well, she made her entrance into the classroom. I never saw anything like it.
First to come through the door was a meticulously groomed, snow white Afghan. This was no junkyard dog, rather it was a real nose-in-the-air aristocrat, executing a slow, deliberate...dare I say "regal" walk...the kind of animal you feel you feel compelled to bow down to.
Next through the door were the links of a dazzling silver dog chain and at the end of that chain was revealed....I kid you not....a stiletto-heeled Barbarian Princess right out of Frank Frazetta.
Yes, it was the same good-looking girl I shared the accident with but here she was dressed to the nines with long, snow white hair tied back in a pony tail, and big, silver hoops dangling from her ears. Everything she wore was snow white: snow white Capri pants, a tight snow white fuzzy sweater, and snow white high heels.
The kids' jaws dropped, especially the boys'.
The girls were flabbergasted.
Trying to overcome the shock, I outlined for the kids the form the debate would take. The format was that the kids should sit in their seats til they formulated an opinion then, when they decided what they believed, they should get up and stand on the side of the room closest to the speaker they agreed with. If they changed their opinion in mid-debate they should walk over to the other side, and half way through we'd invite them into the argument.
The Barbarian Princess went first, and she barely said five words in a throaty Marilyn Monroe voice before the entire class got up and walked to her side of the room. If it had been a boat we'd have capsized.
Her argument in favor of the book consisted of saying over and over that it was cute. The whole class nodded in agreement, as if it was the most deeply profound thing they ever heard. When I spoke the kids rolled up their eyes in disdain. When the princess made a joke the class laughed and laughed uproariously. When I made a joke there was only silence.
Eventually a nerdy girl with oversize glasses went over to my side but that's all I got. The princess was declared the winner with a rousing cheer and I was given "Are-you-still-here?" glances.
Well, that's life.
Well, that's life.