Rave On Monkey

My friend Jacob is the assistant Debate and Forensics coach in Newton.

For years, I've been begging him to call me so I can be a judge. You'd think I would have been hearing from him. Nobody in their right mind wants to judge! You'd think I'd be his favorite person come tournament time.

But I didn't get a call until a couple of weeks ago.

"What time do you want to come in?"

"Anytime."

"Well, you probably don't want to come in for first round."

"I do if you need me."

"But it's at eight."

I was insanely excited enough that I was cool with that. Jacob wasn't sure I'd make it that early so he scheduled me for nine thirty.

Of course, I didn't write down the time, so I sent Jacob a text message to confirm.

So I forgot what time. 9:30? Also, where do I check in? Also, can I wear my judge robe and powdered wig?

Jacob called me a few minute slater. I answered, saying "What? You think the wig is going overboard?"

"It is! The kids will love it! Do you really have a powdered wig?"

"Uh . . . I wasn't really going to wear that stuff, Jacob."