cheese

Velveeta Linklater grew up in my town. She was genuine. Her toes pointed inward and she'd stand arms akimbo, admonishing us boys in PE class.
Her nose was chiseled to a fine point and when it pointed at you, you feared the worst. On that day when it came to my attention, we were practicing "tumbling". A vague word for cruel and inhumane punishment. Enforced with a relentless zeal by Velveeta, a failed high school gymnast.
We were directed to line up and run, one by one, jumping on a "mini" trampoline, to execute a "forward flip" and land on a mat two inches thick. I was not a natural. I usually landed on my ass. Velveeta had the solution. It seems I was closing my eyes (as most would when facing impending doom), and thus, according to Velveeta, losing my "gravity compass". This seemed sensible if incomprehensible and I was determined to give it a try.
I did. And the fear generated by the world upside down sent me sprawling to the floor, missing the mat entirely. Nonetheless, I gamely got up and limped to the back of the line dreading what was to come next.
But I got lucky. The exercise was suspended. Velveeta stood to the side, a veritable gusher of blood and tears. I said 'jeez, what happened'. My classmate Marli said, 'you went totally out of control and accidentally kicked her in the face, you didn't mean to, but it was really funny'.
I have to admit I laughed a little inside, a little payback for the unreasonable imposition of emotional and physical distress. And I thought, why would I need forward flipping skills in adult life? If I was going to make the circus a career maybe, but even then I'd probably be detailed to sell corn dogs, dill pickles and cotton candy.
Velveeta didn't like me much after that errant flailing kick but, heck, it WAS her idea.