Tard Tales: Firetard and the Talent Show
One day, in primary school, our teacher announced we were going to have our annual “talent show” in a month’s time. Kids would pair up, get into groups, or choose to do something by themselves. We’d have the last hour of each school day to practice. Pretty swell.
Or it would have been, if I had a talent to boast about on stage. I could (and can) draw, my writing was (and is) passable, and I could run pretty damn fast. None of that was really appropriate for the stage. If only I could firebreathe back then. (Funny how being terrified of something and getting over said fear leads to obsession with it, in my case, fire)
Anyway. Whilst struggling to think of something to do that wouldn’t get me teased more often than I already did, the teacher comes over.
“Hey, Berrylicious, Firetard has a good idea for a talent, but he needs a partner. Will you pair up with him?”
Ah **** . Firetard, for the most part, was chill, but the last incident I wrote about scared me. But, teach was having none of my protestations and insisted. Wondering who I raped up the arse in a past life, I partnered with Firetard.
Surprise surprise, he wanted to do something about firemen and stuff. He wanted to do a little play about a suave, clever fireman and a bumbling idiot fireman who got into hijinks.
Now, I love acting. Have done for a long time. So I thought, hell, this won’t be too bad.
Naturally, Firetard wanted to play the hero fireman, and thus I was to play the bumbling idiot. Fine by me. Playing on a personality trait was something I enjoyed, so I thought **** it.
So we practiced. It was a ******* chore. Firetard had to have complete control, even though I wrote the “script” at his insistence, probably because he didn’t know which end of the pen the ink came out of. He changed everything, so the plot was virtually nonexistant and the whole five minutes was basically him running round shouting “there’s a fire!” and my character falling over, dropping the water bucket, and generally being a prat while he announced “I’ve saved everyone, I’m a hero, hooray me!” and I’d have to guffaw and say something daft. I don’t even know how we’d get through, when Firetard spoke, only every fourth word was somewhat intelligible, interspersed with grunts and snuffles and snorts.
Irritating though it was, I still enjoyed playing an idiot. But I was pretty worried about putting on an abysmal “play” in front of the rest of the school.
Anywho, the dreaded day finally rolled around and we were shepherded into the assembly hall. Each class would take turns, with individuals or groups having up to five minutes to do their thing.
It was pretty cool. There were some good singers, a good troupe of dancers, and some kid who could fart on command. To be honest, it was probably where Britain’s Got Talent got their ideas from.
And then it was our turn. Firetard and I walked up to the stage.
It started out with me, the idiot, asleep on the job. Firetard would come in and ring a bell to wake me, to which I would leap up and shout “where’s the fire?!” and panic, rushing round, until I did a pratfall. Firetard would then do his hero thing.
The rest of the play was supposed to be as I’ve mentioned, but we never got past my character waking up.
After Firetard rang the bell, and I did my “where’s the fire” panic, I grabbed a bucket full of confetti and hurled it over the audience. It was a nice little touch, I thought, to get them involved, make them think I was going to chuck water over them.
Firetard didn’t think so. He had apparently decided half an hour previous that it would make me look too funny, not stupid (the irony is not lost here). He immediately set up his great Firetard roar.
“You not supposed to do that! You stupid!” And he tard-rushes me.
I go down, expecting to be hit, but Firetard’s epic rage has lent him super strength. He overshoots and falls over. I scramble away, terrified of this hulking prat. Teachers are smiling, they thought it was part of the show. Firetard grabs for the bucket and swings at me. I run away. Yeah I was a wimp as a kid, bite me.
The next 30 seconds saw Firetard raging and chasing me, throwing things and roaring. If you put Benny Hill over it, it would probably be the funniest **** ever.
The teachers eventually twig that it’s not a play anymore, and Firetard has done his usual trick of flipping the **** out. They swarm, and drag Firetard off to the quiet room to cool off.We can hear him howling “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” all the way down the corridor.
Embarrassed as **** , I take a humiliated bow and sit my arse back down.
I’m just pissed I never got to use the fire extinguisher on him.
Or it would have been, if I had a talent to boast about on stage. I could (and can) draw, my writing was (and is) passable, and I could run pretty damn fast. None of that was really appropriate for the stage. If only I could firebreathe back then. (Funny how being terrified of something and getting over said fear leads to obsession with it, in my case, fire)
Anyway. Whilst struggling to think of something to do that wouldn’t get me teased more often than I already did, the teacher comes over.
“Hey, Berrylicious, Firetard has a good idea for a talent, but he needs a partner. Will you pair up with him?”
Ah **** . Firetard, for the most part, was chill, but the last incident I wrote about scared me. But, teach was having none of my protestations and insisted. Wondering who I raped up the arse in a past life, I partnered with Firetard.
Surprise surprise, he wanted to do something about firemen and stuff. He wanted to do a little play about a suave, clever fireman and a bumbling idiot fireman who got into hijinks.
Now, I love acting. Have done for a long time. So I thought, hell, this won’t be too bad.
Naturally, Firetard wanted to play the hero fireman, and thus I was to play the bumbling idiot. Fine by me. Playing on a personality trait was something I enjoyed, so I thought **** it.
So we practiced. It was a ******* chore. Firetard had to have complete control, even though I wrote the “script” at his insistence, probably because he didn’t know which end of the pen the ink came out of. He changed everything, so the plot was virtually nonexistant and the whole five minutes was basically him running round shouting “there’s a fire!” and my character falling over, dropping the water bucket, and generally being a prat while he announced “I’ve saved everyone, I’m a hero, hooray me!” and I’d have to guffaw and say something daft. I don’t even know how we’d get through, when Firetard spoke, only every fourth word was somewhat intelligible, interspersed with grunts and snuffles and snorts.
Irritating though it was, I still enjoyed playing an idiot. But I was pretty worried about putting on an abysmal “play” in front of the rest of the school.
Anywho, the dreaded day finally rolled around and we were shepherded into the assembly hall. Each class would take turns, with individuals or groups having up to five minutes to do their thing.
It was pretty cool. There were some good singers, a good troupe of dancers, and some kid who could fart on command. To be honest, it was probably where Britain’s Got Talent got their ideas from.
And then it was our turn. Firetard and I walked up to the stage.
It started out with me, the idiot, asleep on the job. Firetard would come in and ring a bell to wake me, to which I would leap up and shout “where’s the fire?!” and panic, rushing round, until I did a pratfall. Firetard would then do his hero thing.
The rest of the play was supposed to be as I’ve mentioned, but we never got past my character waking up.
After Firetard rang the bell, and I did my “where’s the fire” panic, I grabbed a bucket full of confetti and hurled it over the audience. It was a nice little touch, I thought, to get them involved, make them think I was going to chuck water over them.
Firetard didn’t think so. He had apparently decided half an hour previous that it would make me look too funny, not stupid (the irony is not lost here). He immediately set up his great Firetard roar.
“You not supposed to do that! You stupid!” And he tard-rushes me.
I go down, expecting to be hit, but Firetard’s epic rage has lent him super strength. He overshoots and falls over. I scramble away, terrified of this hulking prat. Teachers are smiling, they thought it was part of the show. Firetard grabs for the bucket and swings at me. I run away. Yeah I was a wimp as a kid, bite me.
The next 30 seconds saw Firetard raging and chasing me, throwing things and roaring. If you put Benny Hill over it, it would probably be the funniest **** ever.
The teachers eventually twig that it’s not a play anymore, and Firetard has done his usual trick of flipping the **** out. They swarm, and drag Firetard off to the quiet room to cool off.We can hear him howling “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” all the way down the corridor.
Embarrassed as **** , I take a humiliated bow and sit my arse back down.
I’m just pissed I never got to use the fire extinguisher on him.
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