No, dude. No no no no this is not happening right now. I’ve lightly grazed the doorframe on my way out of the food serving area into the food eating area. I watch with horror one of my three cups of Diet Coke sliding mercilessly to the right in slow motion. Everything on my tray is for real gonna frickin fall. I look out to the dining hall. Oh my Jesus dang. Every single girl I have ever had a crush on is sitting here in Adams Dining Hall, picking at their Beef Saigon, staring at me. Half of these girls don’t even go to Harvard, I think to myself. What the flip is happening?!
“What?! Nobody makes time to have a conversation these days anymore?! You’re all just gonna stare at me while my tray slowly flips out of my hands and lands on the floor?!” I scream out at everyone, causing even more people to look up. Slowly but surely the Diet Coke glass makes it to the end of the tray and begins teetering back and forth on the edge. Will it fall? Will I be socially disgraced?
Think, Mike. Just think. What would my role model and namesake, Mr Tyson, do? I notice the lunch lady who swiped me in just to my left. It’s a long shot, but sometimes you’ve just gotta GO for it!
I’ve dumped my entire tray on her head. Two bowls of oatmeal, nearly a liter of Diet Coke, 6 heaping plates of Morrocan carrot salad, enough ranger cookies to turn Usain Bolt into a diabetic, all over this poor woman’s head.
Roll with it, Mike. Tyson wouldn’t back now he would, hell he would bite an ear off for God’s sake. He would uh….
*SMACK* “Looks like someone got up on the wrong side of the getting hit in the face with my tray this morning,” I nervously quip to the entire dining hall after hitting the lunch lady with my tray across the face again and again.
Oh my god. Literally everyone is about to laugh at me. Why do I keep making this worse?
“Excuse me, son.” A man in a suit approaches me, gesturing at me to stop hitting the woman with my tray. “I saw what you did back there with the throwing all your food on that person and then hitting them with your tray.”
“Oh, um, yeppo I guess I did that!” Yeppo? What the frick is yeppo I don’t say that.
“We could use someone with your quick decision making skills. Have you heard of NASA?”
“Sir,” I say, staring deeply into his eyes, “No. Get out of my way.”
I run back to my room in shame. Everyone saw me drop my dining hall tray today. I’ll be a pariah for the rest of my life. I can’t wait to get back to my room, turn on Mike Tyson talk show interview montages, and just forget about life for a while.
