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On the edge, again



Because I had two accidents last month, I had to come to HQ today to do a road evaluation. The good news is I passed the range evaluation, which is moving the big truck and trailer through a series of very tight spots, do a straight line back, and negotiate an incredibly tight right turn.


The bad news is I failed the road evaluation. I didn't constantly move my eyes from left mirror to right mirror to straight ahead to dash to left mirror to right mirror to straight ahead to dash to et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. Plus, I didn't do three-point, three-stage traffic checks when making turns, changing lanes, or just generally moving the truck from here to there.


The good news is I get to try again in the morning.


The bad news is I don't care. I'm at the point where I might just quit this circus because the clown suit doesn't fit like it used to. Things have changed. The hole is so deep I can't tell if I'm digging myself out or deeper in.


The only thing keeping me going is the two writing projects. The Tim rewrite is going beautifully. The Schtickist is moving into a new phase and there's fun galore. Guess who is going to become King of the Schtickists? Guess who doesn't want to be a queen, but is more than willing to be a princess.


"What is this and why do I have to wear it the to Grand Ball?"


"It's called a jockstrap and you have to wear it because you're going to be my princess."


"Don't I get to wear underwear with it?"


"No! That's the whole point."


"This is a joke, right?"


"Of course it is, it's a Schtickist Ball."


"And I have to wear this hat, too, right?"


"It's a Schtickist party hat, everyone will be wearing one."


"It's a big rubber dick!"


"Do you want to wear the big rubber tit?"


"Well, I am going to be a princess and speaking of being a princess, why can't I wear my ballerina outfit to the Ball."


"Because you're wearing that to the coronation!"


"The glass slippers don't fit. My feet are to big."


"Then get bigger slippers."


"They'll look silly."


"And, what is your problem with that?"


"Well, what are you wearing to the coronation?"


"Nothing! The king has no clothes!"


"You Schtickists are weird."


Or, something along those lines.


:boy: is languorous, never lackadaisical!


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