As promised earlier in the semester, Humphrey and I were preparing to dazzle my Popular Writing course with an interpretive dance. (Read back story here.)
I crawled out of bed at 6:25 a.m., grabbed my backpack and moseyed over to Humphrey's place. Humphrey was still fast asleep, but he shook off a wild Thursday night and joined me in the community room. (He lamented that he felt violated because a number of co-eds in the Fox Hills region had grabbed his buttocks Thursday evening without even asking. "I'm not a piece of ass!" he said.) I was worried that he would go too hard and not be on top of his game in the morning. How wrong was I.
As planned, we popped in Rudy and popped open a couple of 40-ounce bottles. As far as I know they had apple juice in them. For the next two hours we drank two of these apple juice-looking drinks each and enjoyed the rousing tale of one Daniel E. "Rudy" Ruettiger. Humphrey snacked on some leftover dinner from the night before and heated up a chicken pot pie, a breakfast of champions in its own right. As Rudy did up-downs, we also limbered up and began to focus on our performance, which was slated to begin at 9:15 in Harrison Hall.
We boarded the bus to campus around 8:35 with no shame. Humphrey donned the daisy dukes and the gold Guido shirt and I rocked the anatomically correct blue corduroys with the "Ride Me" belly shirt. If my memory serves me right, we sat next to the lovely Donna and Brittani (two of Humphrey's biggest fans). Yeah, we received a few death stares and looks of condemnation, but we had an audience to please and, frankly, we looked damn good.
The beautiful Donna (left) and Brittani below. I can speak for Humphrey in saying that we wish we had met these fine ladies earlier in the semester.
When we got to the Quad, we still had a few sips to finish up, so we asked a co-ed to inform the beautiful professor to cue up Meat Loaf's "I Would Do Anything for Love." The class also moved the desks to the edges of the room, unaware of the treat they were about to receive. We waited in the hallway of the third floor greeting passersby and stretching our godly physiques.
Then we were called into the class. Humphrey took over at this point and the co-eds went wild. I felt like I was at an N*SYNC concert the way the co-eds began squealing when they recognized the stout dreamboat that had filled their dreams every night since the inception of this very blog. If his gold shirt wasn't enough, he began to glow all over in the eyes of these naïve nymphs.
As Meat Loaf belted out one of the most influential tunes of all time, we shuffled out one of the most influential dances of all time. Humphrey took the lead and gracefully criss-crossed the room as if he was gliding on skates. "I would do anything for love," Meat Loaf crooned as we mouthed along with him. "But I won't do that. No, I won't do that." On the word "that" we clenched our fists and looked deep into the co-eds' eyes. A few co-eds were lucky enough to experience one of Humphrey's famous moves: the pop, lock and drop.
The "pop, lock and drop" is not to be employed by the clumsy and not to be employed upon the faint of heart. People can get injured. Humphrey often starts the move by pointing to a non-existent quarter that he dropped on the ground. He drops it right in front of unsuspecting co-eds. He then bends at the waist, bends at the knees and pops his tuckus gracefully up toward the co-ed's pelvis. The order of the words in the move don't make perfect sense, but Humphrey has assured me that it is fine because we live in America. A few co-eds have fainted due to the shock of being selected as recipients of the "pop, lock and drop." (They should feel blessed to have such an experience with a budding American legend, but many fail to realize that Humphrey is generous with the "pop, lock and drop," and most co-eds in his path experience the pleasure when the night is right."
After about three minutes and 20 seconds of gliding through the room and delivering intimate interaction through our dance, Meat Loaf and his choir of background singers signaled the climax (no pun intended, though a few co-eds, including one Becca, were seen with orgasmic-like expressions across their faces.)
Many co-eds took out their phones and began taking video of the performance. Humphrey's neighbors even showed up to take their own motion photography of the event. Crazy-hair Erin and Lydia took time out of their busy Fridays and postponed buying their fourth keg of the week to support Humphrey. Erin later remarked that she hadn't seen anything so perfect other than her mother Patti's breasts.
Crazy-hair Erin took these photos.
The climax of the song begins when Meat Loaf's choir of angelic voices, known as the Paula Deens, begin singing the chorus. Like a thunderous crescendo, the song picks up and Humphrey and I do a move I learned from my brother called "Crazy Legs." As detailed in previous posts, "Crazy Legs" is mainly a fast shuffling of the feet. It can be done with rotations and goes well with a few leaps thrown in. Humphrey has in just a few months already mastered the leap, in which one foot is thrown back and the eyes shoot up toward the sky. The beautiful professor even grabbed the hands of few students, gentlemen and co-eds alike, and made them bust a move or two.
Just when the co-eds thought, much like Lorraine Crosby (Meat Loaf's co-vocalist in the song), that "it would all turn to dust and we'd all fall down!" they were hit with an encore performance to Meat Loaf's "You Took the Words Right Out of my Mouth." It was as if "there was a fog crawling over the sand." Humphrey listened to each of those co-ed's "heart and heard the whole world turning." As the song ended, the dancing continued as the beautiful professor was gracefully jostled between our finely groomed midriffs. (Some compared it to the party-boy move made famous by Chris Kattan and Will Ferrell.) She pretended to push us away and escape the melodic movements of our torsos, but we could tell she was thoroughly enjoying herself.
The experience in that Harrison classroom ended with greeting of fans and the beautiful professor asking the friendly Humphrey what the exigence of the dance is?
If I can borrow an adjective of the great Chip Tarketon, unlicensed attorney at law, the portly fellow answered her question in true Humphrey fashion: "I don't speak Spanish."
Stay tuned. More to follow on what happened after that epic class.
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