Some People Are Never Satisfied

I was planting tomatoes in my garden this weekend when the ghost of Al Jolson stopped by.

I said, “I heard you once got an hour standing ovation on Broadway.”

Al Jolson said, “What you say is true. I had a powerful rapport with my audience. We recognized our need and support for one another. We were a true marriage.”

I said, “Once I forgot my lines in my grade school play about the Civil War. I froze. My teacher whispered my lines to me, but I couldn’t move my mouth. I peed myself, which shorted some wires under the stage, and there was a fire. Everyone but my drama teacher got out with their lives. The school ended up naming the cafeteria after her.”

Al Jolson said, “Fret not, young man. Nothing powerful and wondrous is achieved without great distress, misery and sorrow…Alas, I can tell my words don’t alleviate your guilt. In the hopes of lifting your spirit, I’ve brought you this gift.”

The ghost of Joyce Quillson, my second grade drama teacher, appeared.

I cried and said, “I’m so, so sorry, Mrs. Quillson.”

Mrs. Quillson said, “The lunch room? What, are you kidding me?”

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