I could still remember the important details.
Zero Period, Sophomore year. AP Biology with Mrs. Donoghue. Crysta and I stood in the front of the class. The LCD projector displayed our Powerpoint Presentation and illuminated the darkened room. The screen flickered and a slide filled with octopus and squid appeared on display. It was my turn to present my part of the project.
I hated any and all public speaking events that I had to participate in. I still had a detectable accent that bothered me to no end. The pressure from holding the gaze of 30 people all at once made me want to curl up in the fetal position.
But there’s something worse than that. One of my high school crushes sat in very same class. This was my first and only class with him, and I’ve never felt more grateful to sit five seats away from him every morning. His icy-blond hair sparkled from the projector’s light, glittering from the last row of the classroom. His hazel eyes glowed like fireflies in the summertime. His gaze moved from the Powerpoint Slide, then to me.
So there I was, talking about the Animal Phylum of Mollusca, more specifically the Class of Cephalopoda. I breezed through it without much trouble because the Octopus was my 2nd favorite animal ever. Then I reached the next slide with a picture of a snail. I inhaled deeply to brace myself for the impact.
There’s something worse than hating public speaking or having my crush watch me struggle in front of him. I made a joke to go along with my part of the project, and I wanted to say it in front of the class. I did the bare minimum for this project; most of the time I spent working on it was used to create the joke. Back then, I wasn’t particularly quick-witted or naturally hilarious. My grasp on the English language after living in the US for seven years was still below average at best. But I knew that if I had enough time, I could fix up something that could kill the audience.
With laughter, of course.
Although I’ve seen how people treat terrible stand up comedians on TV. I’m just hoping no one brought any tomatoes to throw at me. And Mrs. Donoghue is cool and all, but what if my joke is so bad that she fails me and Crysta? Dammit, why am I bringing Crysta into this mess? She didn’t deserve to get paired up with a terrible person like me for this project.
But I wanted to say it.
I wanted to see him smile. I wanted to make him smile. And there’s nothing gay about that. Just a dude trying to make another dude happy. It’s totally hetero, I’d say to my gay-denying high school self.
I continued the presentation with my section on the Class Gastropoda. My heart raced faster and faster as I reach the end of what I needed to say for the project.
“It’s a tough life for a lonely, slow-moving snail out there.” I began. “But most snails are actually hermaphrodites, which means they have both male and female sex parts. This way, they don’t always need a partner to reproduce.”
I paused. I gulped the spit that’s been building up in my mouth for the last ten seconds just from my anxiety.
“After all, why should you look for someone else when you can do it yourself?”
I almost couldn’t finish the joke, because halfway through it I could already see a few people smirking. This class was smart; they could already tell I was gonna make a masturbation joke.
The entire class roared. I’m sure everyone who just happened to be in the building at 7:30 in the morning must have heard them. I tried to keep looking at the screen to continue with my presentation, but even I kept getting choked up with laughter. I couldn’t look at Crysta, because I sacrificed so much of the project’s quality for this one sex joke. I stop trying to press on with the presentation and look at the class in front of me. Before I said the joke, some were half-asleep. Now they’re more animated than I’ve ever seen them.
I looked at the back of the classroom. I’ve never seen him smile before. His teeth glistened in a toothpaste-white grin. His entire body shook as he laughed. The cool, uncaring demeanor he usually wore was now gone, replaced by raw joy from laughter. No matter what happened after that, I got what I wanted from this project. I had my prize, and I aimed to keep it.
I don’t remember what I got on that project. I hope it was a good grade, for Crysta’s sake. The feelings of affection for him eventually disappeared, like most crushes do. But I never stopped wanting to make guys laugh. That first joke made me realize that I can do it.
And that’s the story of how I became a clown.
If you’ve ever hated my sense of humor, blame that cute blond white boy for making me do something out of my comfort zone. It’s all his fault.
In Two, Power Ten 