Pen to the Paper 8
“How’s your nose?” Maya asked, tying my bowtie.
“It’s fine. I think it’s fully healed from the fight last month,” I replied.
“Ha! Fight? You got beat up, dude. There was no fighting whatsoever.”
“Pffft, I totally punched the lead in the chin, kicked the guitarist in the knee, and threw… something at the drummer.”
“Maybe in your dreams! He punched you in the nose, and you were out cold,” Maya said, giggling.
“My story is better, mi amor,” I said with a wink.
“Esta lejos de la verdad,” she replied.
“True, but it is más interesante.”
Finished with my bowtie, she stood on her toes, kissed me on the cheek, and said, “Break a leg.”
“I’d rather not. Broke my nose last month,” I said, walking away.
“Love ya too.”
I exited my dressing room and walked down the hall to the curtains. Taking a deep breath, I walked on stage.
“WHAT UP, WHAT UP, WHAT UP!? IT’S YA BOY CJ BACK UP IN THE HEEZY FOR REALZY!” I hollered.
It was so quiet after I said that you could have heard a pin drop.
“Well, that joke didn’t work. Duly noted. It’s Pen to the Paper 8, yo,” I said. Then, deepening my voice, "Drop the mic.”
″That was a mistake!” I said, covering my ears and walking off stage awkwardly.