Yes, dear readers, I imagine that your faces might very well look like the ones in photo above, because it’s true: Hest is returning to my little blog here. My first story with Hest in it, called “My Favourite Get Rekt Moment” seemed to be pretty well-liked, and actually was one of my most popular posts on this blog. So I figured that any readers who actually bother to give this blog the time of day might want to hear another Hest story. So how about it? Let’s jump into this cringeworthy tale, shall we?
You’ll have to read my previous post if you want to read my description of Hest, but if you’re not going to read it despite my just telling you to, suffice it to say that I’m not the biggest fan of Hest. With that being said, here’s the setting of my story.
At my college, there is what is called a winter formal every year, and it’s the most prestigious social event the school has to offer. And since my school is very small, everyone just kind of asks whoever. There isn’t really any romantic connotation attached (unless you want there to be), but it’s still a big deal knowing which guys are going to ask which girls, especially on a small campus where everybody knows everybody. And I had picked the girl I was going to ask.
It was the night that the school’s play was premiering, which was perfect for me, because that meant I could ask this girl to formal without a whole lot of people around. (Actually, ironically enough, this is the same girl who invited me to her graduation dinner in my last Hest story.) I had a song ready to play on my banjo with lyrics that asked her to formal, and I had asked her to meet me in the student center (where everyone goes to hang out). With everyone at the play, it would be perfect. I didn’t tell her why I wanted to meet her there, so it was a perfect setup.
While I was in the student center waiting for her, I was practicing my piece, becoming more excited at what I was about to do. I checked my phone for the time. Two minutes until the time we had agreed to meet. I took a deep breath, preparing myself. I was not prepared for who actually walked in the door just then.
Hest came in, and my heart sank as I began to panic. Maybe he would just walk by and pass through. But there was no such luck.
“Oh! Hey Michael!” he greeted cheerfully. “Playing banjo?”
“Uh, yeah,” I answered quickly, still hoping he had something he was on his way to do. “Just thought I’d practice a little bit.”
“Alright!” Hest replied. “Sounds cool! Can you play something for me?”
“Uh, well,” I began, racking my brain for an answer. “I was really trying to concentrate on what I was learning. It’s a brand new song to me.”
“Oh, come on,” Hest waved his hand as if to wave my argument away, all the while grinning widely. “You can play me one little song, right?”
“Well, you see,” I answered, finally coming up with something. “I don’t usually tell people this, but…” I looked over my shoulder to make sure no one was listening. No one was even in the building. “…I get terrible stage fright.”
Anyone who knows me at all knows that this is simply not true. I have been a musical performer from a very young age, and I’ve never been afraid to get up in front of people at all. Hest seemed to know this.
“Is that true?” he asked dubiously.
“Oh yes,” I replied. “I can’t even think straight when I perform in front of somebody, anybody. I make all sorts of mistakes.”
“Nah!” Hest said, waving his hand again. “I’ll bet you can do it. Show me.” This guy does not give up.
I began to play, intentionally making horrible mistakes, having to start over again. After three or four times of this, I shrugged my shoulders.
“What did I tell ya?” I asked. “I simply can’t do it.”
“Oh. Ah well,” Hest conceded, still not moving.
“You know,” I said, thanking my lucky stars that the girl I was going to ask was always fashionably late, “you really ought to go see the play. It’s fantastic.”
“Wait, isn’t it opening night?” Hest questioned. “How do you know it’s good?”
“Hest,” I replied, “you know I’m all artistic. I have a passion for the performing arts. And I know good acting when I see it. This play is phenomenal. You should really go. Like, right now.”
Hest looked at his watch. “But it doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes.”
“All the more reason to go!” I exclaimed. “You need to get the best seats. You’ll want to see everything up close.”
“Oh. Alright then,” Hest replied, starting to walk out. Just before he reached the door, he stopped and turned around.
“You’re not just trying to get rid of me for some reason, are you?” he asked suspiciously.
“Now, Hest,” I said in a most serious tone and with a straight face. “Would I ever try to do something like that?”
Hest shrugged. “Hm, okay.” And he walked out.
And I kid you not, dear readers, that as the door was still closing from Hest’s exit, the girl I was going to ask came in through another entrance. It was that close. But Hest was gone, and I was able to play my song successfully. I’d tell you whether or not the girl said yes, but that’s not the point of the story, now, is it?