Classroom Reader Fantasy

Comedians take advantage of stage time whenever it’s available.

It doesn’t matter if you shamelessly plug 3 of your self-published books in front of Kindergarteners during your role as a Classroom Reader.

It’s also fun to freak your kids’ teachers out with a little comedic misdirection during your presentation.

I open with.

What are you kids interested in hearing today?

Then I start whipping out my well-reviewed, self-published book gems one by one out of my grey designer backpack from the Nordstrom Rack.

Because I must stay in character as a shishy stay-at-home shemale comedian.

Who’s dying to get laughs in person versus laughing at my jokes later from Shabbat Shalom Ramble while housing a half bottle of Don Julio while freaking out my daughter’s friends during his 1st sleepover at our house in the process.

My textbook presentation on comedic misdirection went like this.

I say.

Do you want to hear Do It All Dad Does Jokes, Controlling My Kids With Comedy, A Love Story, or the Great American Jew Novel? Sike. Today, I will be reading you a G-rated book called Book Of Bad Banners instead. Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman will not tickle your fancy just yet. For the record, that joke was your teacher only.

And my son’s two teachers continued to laugh long time that was the equivalent of lock jaw love in my eyes.

Classroom Reader Fantasy, Challah. Thank you very much.

I wanted to add, “Who’s in favor of Dragon Queens reading stories to Kindergarteners?”

Drag Queens reading Bi-Curious George to a bunch of sexually confused Hipster spawn reared on Lou Reed records is scary because Fluorescent Library lights don’t look flattering on anybody, especially on a vampy, poor man’s Marilyn Manson impersonator.

And how are puberty blockers even a thing today, kids?

When I was a pubescent teen, puberty couldn’t come soon enough, especially after my younger brother hit puberty and banged the three hottest girls in his class, whom I tried to jerk off to at the time but couldn’t, which made me feel like a big brother bust. Think Eddy Curry on the Knicks with a shitter hook shot.

One year, my mother got me a book called the 12 Stages of Puberty for Hannukah, which was humiliating because my younger brother had already bloomed under the Fruit of the Looms.

I say.

Mom, why would you get me this book besides my younger brother?

Jonathan can play himself whenever he wants.

Mom says.

But you do that all the time already with your GI-Joe Figures.

Classroom Reader Fantasy, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Michael Kornbluth