The Provo River Sprite

So Friday I had a rehearsal for a play I am in Provo. I got there about a ½ hour early, so I decided to go walking on the Provo River Trail to try to memorize my lines.

I found that as I was walking I was pretty much the only one on the trial, so instead of whispering or reviewing them silently, like a normal person, I started speaking them in full voice.

But I kept thinking, “Robierto, be careful someone is magically going to appear on a long board or bike and you are going to look really stupid.”

But no one came, so I just kept right on a goin’. So I just went for it, shouting, shaking fists in the air. It was quite a scene, man.

And then to my right, I heard the sound of little voice clear its throat. As I turned my head, I saw a little body, and that little body was riding a little yellow bike.

I did a full body cringe, and thought, “If I don’t make eye contact with him maybe he will just ride away.”

He didn’t ride away friends, but rather just kept right in stride with me, staring up at me in with a questioning look.

He then said, “Sure is beautiful up here isn’t it?”

I said nervously, “It sure is.” Knowing the follow up to that would surely be, “Gee mister, you sure seem like a crazy person talking to yourself and shaking your fists like that.”

But then he asked honestly with a squinty eye, “What are you doing?”

I was grateful for his question so I could explain to him that I wasn’t crazy.

“I am in a play”, I said, “and I am trying to memorize my lines.”

“Oh,” he said, “That’s great. Good luck.” 

And then he rode away, never to be seen again.

Now I have heard tell of some mythical creatures that dwell beneath Mt. Timpanogos, none of which ride little yellow bicycles. But me thinks this little sprite was sent by the Gods of Awkwardness to say, “Robierto, you do weird and reckless things, but you are all right.”

Thank you little sprite, wherever you are. You have taught me some valuable lessons, but mostly, perhaps when acting the fool, one should only do this in the privacy of his home...or perhaps locked safely in his bathroom closet.