Interpretive Dance (Part 2)

When Humphrey and I finished the finest dance of our young careers, I found it prudent to e-mail one of my professors in the wee hours. Risks are taken when one decides to hang with Humphrey. Decision making is usually impaired and any decision may be dubbed "American," thus making it good.

So I e-mailed a young professor of mine and told her that a friend and I were going to come to class at 9 a.m. and perform our interpretive dance. Humphrey thought it was a good idea and endorsed it, promising to perform an early morning encore of our show.

I woke up at 7:11 a.m. to a message from the professor.

"Um...ok?"

My head was spinning, which didn't surprise me, because I had hung out with Humphrey. I later was amazed at how that hospitable hobbit (his natural sweater is indescribable, photo below isn't recent enough to do it justice) raises one's game to his level on any given night. I'm no amateur, but me and the big guy nearly crushed a whole keg.



I responded that I didn't think I made the best decision to e-mail her five and a half hours prior. Humphrey and I still probably had another five and a half hours of our altered state ahead of us.

"Now I'm really disappointed. Bring it on," she quipped back.

What?! I can't back down to that. So, I called Humphrey. I texted Humphrey. No answer to either. The interpretive dance had put him in a deep sleep and his paws weren't leaving the body pillow any time soon.

I apologized in my next message that the dance wasn't going to happen on that beautiful Friday morning. I then sheepishly fell back to sleep, too embarrassed to attend class and too inebriated to stand up.

Humphrey has since avoided any acknowledgment of his promise to co-star in the early morning dance show. Please take part in the poll to the left. It directly relates to the future of the interpretive dance.