I watched the brother-sister dance team as they exited the stage to a smattering of polite applause.
Following their act, several “soloists” took the stage. I use that term to describe the acts who sang along with recordings of a professional artist. Apparently it was too much trouble to lip-sync and too much trouble to sing a real solo. You know the kind where you actually sing alone and not the kind where you are singing with the radio?
Cartwheels in spandex was looking better by the minute. Maybe brother and sister would win!
My turn. Taking the microphone I moved across the stage as I sang.
“It must have been cold there in my shadow to never have sunlight on your face.”
I sang to the audience. I sang to the judges. I “emoted.”
Emote: to express emotion, especially in an excessive or theatrical manner
“I can flyer higher than an eagle ‘cause you are the wind beneath my wings.”
And the eagle landed. But not in 1st, 2nd, nor 3rd place.
The dancers of The Worm and a couple of “soloists” took the prizes.
Afterwards, my good looking date commiserated with me and told me it must have been rigged.
We left the fairgrounds holding hands and he suggested we go to Piggy Park.
Again, “Where am I? I get beat in a talent competition by The Worm and some pseudo soloists, and my date wants to take me to a pig farm.”
Could this night get any better?
Driving in the dark, down Hiway 19, I was about to find out.