It could have been the black velvet pants. Possibly the tight tank top. Maybe even the fingerless leather gloves that finally did it. Whatever it was, God finally chose to respond to cries of love and devotion to His almighty power. It was a Tuesday afternoon in October when the booming voice echoed across the cloudy, grey sky and changed the life of a fifteen year old boy forever. Dressed in a synchronized dance outfit fit for the stage, Joyce Plumfugger found himself on the receiving end of a message from the Heavens, but the words that rattled the very teeth in his head were nothing like what he had imagined.
High school was a time of wonder for Plumfugger, though there was a period of his life when he could not have been convinced that it could be. The trouble started around the time of his tenth birthday, when he began to realize that he was not like other boys. He had feelings of emotion that the others didn't seem to have and his voice came with a lisp that seemed beyond the powers of any therapist to correct. It was a dark time for Plumfugger and much of his time was spent weeping under his bed, dressed in one of his mother's old evening gowns. It wasn't until he stumbled into a dance studio that his life took a turn for the better, and the hours spent sobbing in darkness were soon spent training his lithe young body to become an instrument of grace and beauty.
Everything was looking up for Plumfugger by the time he reached his sophomore year at Nagalfar High School; he was captain of the jazz dance team, he wore tank tops every day and there were two boys on the soccer team who didn't call him a fag. He was on his way. The joy of a life going successfully rang out across the football field as the other boys suited up in pads smashed into each other and Plumfugger squealed with joy, praising God for making something as sublimely handsome as a male ass. It was then that a voice crackled across the sky, silencing everything, the football team, the coaches, the birds, even the cheerleaders who were practicing on the sidelines of the field. Everyone froze in place, electrified by the words vibrating through the air like a living thing.
It took a while for things to go back to normal, but in time, they did. Years later, most of those who had been there that day barely remember the incident, as if it blurred from their minds like newsprint in the rain. Maybe it never held any importance in the first place. They went about their lives, living as they had before the voice had come. All that is, except for Plumfugger. He decided to remember those words and remember them he did. In dance. Using the words to be his music, he danced his heart out, hoping that in some small way, his dance might show the beauty of God that he had known one October day. Unfortunately, no one really got it and thought he was just this wierdo dancing around like an idiot.