I pulled the curtain back just far enough the peek at my audience. It was a full house. Now my announcer, Ed McLemon brings me onstage with the familiar; ‘Heeeers Myla. The band started playing my theme song, led by Sketch Henderson. I begin my monologue.

Something is trickling through my veins. It’s warmer than room temperature tap water, but not warm enough to be blood. My eyes are rolled back. No, I don’t think I’m dead, just looking at my thoughts. I’ve always had lots of them, but had never really seen them before. Sure, I’d think about what was on my mind, but I’d never really seen any of the stuff that went on inside my head. I never knew how colorful my thoughts were.

There are a few polite chuckles.

They are every shape and color I could imagine plus a few I didn’t recognize. Take that lavenderish one. That’s my favorite color, but this one is a shade I had not thought of…and a new shape. Some of them are in floating containers while others are spread out flat on the floor.

Oh no. The room is quiet. Maybe this is going over their heads.

One container had five sides plus one. It wasn’t a pentagon, nor was it a hexagon; just five side plus one. They all pulsate…wait, the flat one is lying dormant. I looked inside it closer and saw that I had thought about eating an apple. Then I wondered, how cold I could look inside a two-dimensional, flat object? Must be alien technology.  It was faceted, the container that is; as though sliced with a sharp pear knife. Since I had not taken a bite from the container, I dismissed that thought.

Waa. The stage manager has the hook out. I’ve got to think of something fast.

I have questions also. But before I could ask them, I find myself questioning my questions. Then I would question why I would question my question in the first place. Such questionable behavior for the student voted without question the one most likely to decide.

I see a fat man on the third row lean forward, so I direct my act toward him.

Now what was the question?

He belly-laughs so hard that an usher has to pick him up from the aisle and stuff him back into his seat. I turn and stick my tongue out at the man with the hook.

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