naughty

I wriggled and stamped my feet impatiently. I fussed with the lay of my clothes, pulling at the hem of my shirt and re-setting the fall of my pant legs. I itched my ear. I noted the hairstyles of the people around me. I thought about what I might snack on before bed. I curled the edges of my music score into tiny scrolls and then let them pop back into place. Instead of following my line in the score, I read the copyright information at the bottom of the page. I barely suppressed disbelief when the sopranos came in like a flock of warbly crows. I myself ignored my own entrance, preferring to indulge in a jaw-splitting yawn.
I was a very naughty choir-member last evening.