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Mind Over Matter

Apropos of nothing...

On one of the writers' websites I frequent, a fellow was bemoaning an upcoming ball he had to attend (he doesn't dance; neither do I, but not for lack of trying). Anyway, this is the advice I posted. I hope it works.

My sure-fire way to insure a fun, stress-free evening: First, put on your snazziest rental monkey suit (tuxedo, to the uninformed). Then place a white, ironed, tricorner handkerchief in your breast pocket. On your right foot place a black, highly polished dress Oxford. Finally, on your left foot wrap a large ace bandage (use plenty of toothed clamps to hold it; you're going for effect).

When you arrive at the party, make it a grand entrance (a top hat and cane will help immensely). When asked about your injury, speak in an offhand Ronald Coleman manner (assume an arch tone; you are, after all wearing a tux).

"This? Why it's nothing, old sock. It's just that earlier this evening I happened to encounter some ruffians who were attempting to separate an elderly man from his cash. What? Oh yes, I thoroughly trounced them ... ten years in the Coldstream Guards, you know. I daresay those worthies will be using their time in lockup to reconsider their choice of careers. Does it hurt? A bit, but nothing like the injury I suffered that time in the Somme fighting the Hun. That was a rum go, let me tell you! Entrails and tree limbs flying everywhere! A brandy? I'd love one. Thanks ever so..."

You'll be the hit of the ball. And you won't have to dance.

Not one step. Read More 
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