"What the hell is it supposed to mean?" I felt absolutely perplexed. Like, yes, I'd like to add some more descriptions of my emotions, but that was it. I was perplexed. A tall, middle-aged man in a baggy suit in front of me grinned cheerfully,
"It means exactly what this banner says" he turned around without removing his shiny grin and pointed to the banner, which merrily proclaimed "Welcome to your first day at Clown School."
"Wait a second" I was wondering if I should have expressed some indignation. I decided to do it "What I have to do with clowns? Am I a clown? Or I look like one?" I was fuming. I felt the streams of vapor gushing from my ears.
"As a matter of fact, you do!" exclaimed the man in a baggy suit happily "At least your teachers and parents think so," he was shining with delight, the grey patches of hair on his overall bald head were ruffled as if he was a crazy professor or something. He wore a cherry colored necktie and big slippers with the huge orange pompons on them. I thought how cool those various details of his garments complemented each other. Not.
"By the way, my name is Waldes Izmuditos," added the crazy professor in a convivial tone, leaning his head toward me "I'm the principal of Clown School" he paused for a moment as if trying to remember what he was talking about "Yes, and you are welcome!". The last remark he added with an expression on his face, which could be read as Eureka.
"Well, Ok, nice to meet you Waldes Izmuditos," I said, shaking his outstretched hand vigorously and thinking of what could've brought me in this predicament. Flashes of memory scuttled through my head in quick succession.
Well, I sat in that class bored and exasperated. I had no idea what the teacher was talking about, neither was I interested. Something about molecules. Jeez. And then she smirked and invited me to the blackboard to solve some task. Suppose, I was to embarrass myself, feel embarrassed, with red cheeks filled with embarrassment and tears in my eyes. Then I would run from the class. In embarrassment.
I stood before the blackboard, toying with a piece of chalk in my hand. In my other hand was a textbook. Somewhere inside it was the description of that task I had to solve. If only I had any idea what this all was about. I stood for awhile; then I decided to do something. I wrote, "A task" on the blackboard in big letters. I looked at it critically. Then I decided that letters weren't big enough. So I erased it and wrote it again in bigger letters. Then I looked at critically a bit more, cocking my head to the side as a genius painter, trying to decide whether this last touch really made the painting look profound. Then I decided that the letters weren't yet big enough and erased it and wrote it once again. This time "A task" took a good part of the blackboard. Behind me grew the hysterical giggle of the class. I made a step back to have a better look at the results of my artistic endeavor. I felt somewhat satisfied. Although, there could be some more subtle touches here and there. I pondered this thought. A loud cough interrupted my meanderings. I turned, annoyed by being so rudely yanked from my reverie, and saw the teacher looking at me with a mix of bafflement, fury, and curiosity in her eyes.
"Listen you. A task-boy, can you just start solving a friggin task already or something?"
I considered this idea for a while, looking pensively at the ceiling. The hysterical giggles behind me continued, and I was curious what was that, which made everybody so amused. Maybe, I should have taken a look at that. But, nonetheless. I decided to start with writing task conditions on the blackboard. I wrote "Task conditions."
There wasn't much space on the blackboard at that point, but I used what had been left and tried to make those letters look big and beautiful. I took several steps back and contemplated my work in silence. So I stood for a while. Then I was distracted by the teacher who silently motioned me to go back to my seat. Her face was red, and there were tears in her eyes. She couldn't speak. I assumed, she was smitten by the power of my artistic expression. In any case, I went to my desk with a feeling of accomplishment. My art burned with white streaks on the black surface, conveying a message of the profound depth.
Once it occurred to me that I didn't dress cool enough. It was, of course, a grave underestimation of the problem, but at that moment I thought, I needed just some few touches that would emphasize my coolness. I decided I needed metal plates attached to the heels of my boots. I dunno where from and why this weird idea came to me, but I made that done. So I had metal plates attached to my boots, and I was walking to school. I was late as usual, so I didn't hurry because I felt about it as a binary condition; either you are on time, or you are late. If you are already late, it doesn't matter how late you are. You can be a bit late or very late. Doesn't matter.
So when I entered the school, everybody was busy in the classrooms, and the hall was absolutely empty and silent. While I strolled through this empty and silent hall, I realized that the metal plates on my boots created an amazing sound effect. This effect was greatly emphasized by the wonderful acoustics of the hall. So I marched through it, marveling at the mysterious feeling this sound produced in me. It was a loud metallic clang, reproduced in multiple echoes that ran back and forth throughout the corridors.
I strode towards my classroom slowly, enjoying this loud and spooky mystery of sound I had produced. I imagined myself being an angel of a doomsday, proclaiming with my heavy sonorous footsteps an advent of the apocalypse. Slowly, savoring each step, like the Terminator I approached my classroom and knocked at the door.
"Who's there?" answered a small, frightened voice from behind the door. I was a bit puzzled and wondered what might've happened.
"Eh, that's me, sorry, I'm late, but I had an accident, in which I had to help people with, like, so I'm late" I answered, lamely improvising the excuses, and opened the door.
The teacher stood in front of the class, she looked somewhat pale, and her eyes were huge and a bit bewildered.
"Have you seen what is that in the corridor, I mean the sound?" She asked nervously
"Eh? I'm not sure" I started to realize the profound effect my sound experiments produced. I felt a tinge of artistic pride, something capable of evoking such deep emotions in people had to be recognized as art. My conviction about my destiny grew.