Hi, my name is Mark. I am a professional table tennis player, ready to show off my skills to the world. I am just driving to the city gym, listening to rock music, for my table tennis training.
While I was driving, I thought about my teammates. We are very close friends and make a brilliant team together.
First, we have William, the team captain. He is someone who likes cats and winning games, but he hates spicy food; we once went to a restaurant, and a waiter gave William his food. Little did he know, he ordered super-duper spicy chicken wings.
I guffawed while watching him try to cope with the spiciness of his new least-favourite food. After that, he did not give a tip, left the restaurant, and never returned.
We also have Joe, the class clown; he once was eating what he claimed to be a second breakfast. He was talking a lot that day. “If you have so much to say, name ten periodic table elements,” I challenged. I waited. Soon, he replied, “Second breakfast."
Only after he explained it that we laughed out loud: Se for selenium, Co for cobalt, Nd for neodymium, B for boron, Re for rhenium, Ac for actinium, K for potassium, F for fluorine, As for astatine, and Te for tellurium. He likes inspirational quotes but dislikes bananas.
One time, William gave Joe a banana smoothie to drink. When he drank it, he spit it out and smashed the glass. William learned an important lesson: never give Joe bananas ever again.
Finally, we have Sam, the shy guy. Sam is timid and likes to stay behind the scenes during interviews. He loves playing video games and dedicates every small moment of his life to them. Sam is very good at shooter games and is ranked fifty-sixth in the global gaming leaderboards.
What you have to know is that he dislikes public speaking. Once, we forced him to give a speech about how much he loves playing table tennis. He was sweating and trembling like an earthquake was beneath his feet.
As I thought about my friends, I arrived at the city gym. Along the way, I saw a middle-aged woman behaving very strangely. She was ridiculously tall and looked like she had not washed her clothes for years. Even her movement was weird: she was walking in a way that looked like dancing. Strange.
I took my mind off her, entered the gym and met my friends. Usually, we talk about random things. Today, William told me something weird—something about the substitute instructor.
"She is the first instructor to wear never-washed clothes. Is her boxing glove really that dangerous? I heard she eats over-expired stew. She is the only person who has a pet frog. My mother says she has very old dancing shoes and a grabbing tool.”
That was strange. Even for an instructor. Who was she, and what was she doing in our gym? Why did Jordan choose such a lady? Was she even qualified? I have a million questions. But whatever William was talking about, I had a sense of foreboding that it would be a very different day.
Our regular instructor, Jordan, wears a soccer jersey and swimming trunks and blows a whistle. His skin is often red and sweaty because he is addicted to whistling. He cares about whistling so much that he gets his whistle cleaned by a professional. Jordan is sometimes strict, but he inspires us to do well.
Suddenly, the hall dimmed. Then, a spotlight shone on the space where Jordan, the coach, usually comes from when we begin our training session. What was going on? As we stared at the spotlight, a silhouette appeared that seemed to be a middle-aged woman who was ridiculously tall and looked like she was dancing on a unicycle and juggling three balls with her feet blindfolded.
Suddenly, we got to see her in reality. She looks like she has never washed her clothes in years. It seems like this woman is the same woman I saw on my way here. She also fits William’s description of her. Is she the coach?
Unsurprisingly, she fell. Nobody in the world could do that for a reasonably long time. “My name is Maria,” she said, still dancing. “I was called to be the substitute teacher for your table tennis training session. I am not qualified to do this so START DANCING NOW!”
I was flabbergastered. We were not attending a dancing lesson but a serious table tennis training session. Why do we need to dance? “Maria or whatever your name is, this is a table tennis training session, not a dancing lesson. And are you supposed to teach our class?” I said. “Yes I am,” Maria shouted, still dancing. She pulled something out of her bag. Out came a checklist written by our coach. We examined it.
“Today,” I read. “Find all thirty-eight missing table tennis balls, make sure that everyone plays at least one game of table tennis, and make everyone meditate so they can be calm for the upcoming competition.” “Will you help us complete the tasks Jordan gave to us?” asked Joe.
“Of course, I will,” Maria shouted, dancing vigorously. “That is my job.” Suddenly, a magpie, as fast as a cheetah, flew into an open window and started swooping everyone. Maria, very annoyed, started attempting to punch the magpie with her boxing glove. They went outside, and Maria frantically searched for the hose and started spraying water on the magpie.
Suddenly, the magpie found an opportunity to get back inside. I tried to duck, but the magpie swooped the golden racket.
“No!” I said as I saw the smashed golden racket beneath my feet. It was split into two like a broken twig. I wondered how we could show our skills without the golden racket. Jordan will be clenching his fists and displaying a cranky face. I cried. A famous table tennis player signed it. Without it, we will lose our reputation.
Now, we have a new goal. We forgot about all the other plans. All we needed to do was glue the golden racket together using our super-duper-mega-ultra superglue.
William suggested a conventional solution. “We grab the racket and use the glue to fix it.” But Maria presented a different, overly complicated solution. “First, we use a table tennis robot and make it shoot a table tennis ball, which will activate the coffee machine. The coffee will weigh the tote tray down, activating a catapult that will launch another table tennis ball to activate an infinite dancing machine with a sign that says, “Please give me some gold.” When there is enough gold, they go to a goldsmith to combine the golden racket pieces with the additional gold to fix it.
“Alright,” I said reluctantly. “Give it a try.” So, Maria started the machine. Suddenly, the table tennis robot activated, flinging table tennis balls all over the place. “Ouch!” Sam exclaimed. By the second, more and more table tennis balls were gone, some under the fridge, some under the cupboard, and some under the chairs and tables.
“Don’t worry,” Maria reassured. “This is going to plan. And she was right: soon after all the chaos (and multiple ball injuries), the robot finally hits the trigger to activate the coffee machine, weighing the tote tray down.
“But how are we going to turn off the coffee machine?” Joe asked. “The table tennis robot will continue to activate so it can stop the coffee machine,” Maria explained.
But it was too late: the coffee machine dispensed more coffee than expected, and the tote tray overflowed, causing a coffee flood! “Ah! Coffee flood!” I screamed. “My pants are wet!”
The catapult launched and hit the dancing machine switch perfectly, but it broke and spun dangerously out of control. It broke the furniture and almost cut Joe’s head off. How are we going to solve these problems and complete our tasks?
Suddenly, I saw Jordan coming. “Come on! Do something! The instructor is coming! Clean up the coffee flood with buckets! Destroy the dancing machine! Find the table tennis balls!” I exclaimed.
“Don’t worry!” shouted Maria. “I have a solution.” She got her pet frog and handed everyone buckets. “We will fill the buckets with coffee, and my pet frog will help you drink any leftover coffee. In no time, everyone worked together and cleared the mess effortlessly. Then, everyone attended a meditation session with the pet frog. Who does not get satisfaction from a cute, fat frog? Not me.
Now, we had to find all thirty-eight (including the missing table tennis balls shot from the table tennis robot) table tennis balls. Luckily, Maria pulled out her trusty grabbing tool to reach anything in hard-to-reach places. Soon, we found all the missing table tennis balls.
But the dancing machine was still dangerously spinning out of control. Luckily, Maria had her dancing shoes with her. We all played a fast game of table tennis with dancing shoes as the rackets and the dancing machine as the ball.
They had only finished the job when Jordan, the instructor, knocked on the door. Maria kindly opened the door for him, and everyone quickly went to their positions: they pretended to play another table tennis game. Joe tries to cover up the remains of the dancing machine with his foot, and Sam quickly hides and glues the Golden Racket with super glue.
“Good afternoon gentlemen,” Jordan said. “Did you guys learn something new?” I did. I learned that even though it is unclear, a solution is usually in your sight; you only need your brain to find it.
Soon after, we farewelled Maria warmly. Joe even started breakdancing, showing off his skills to Maria. I did not know he could do that. William even started trying to dance while playing table tennis with me. Of course, he tripped over, but Maria still laughed. In the end, we said a farewell phrase in unison: “Bye Maria! Although you were a bit silly, you were certainly funny and creative.”
“Bye!” she replied. Maria quickly got her unicycle, juggling balls, and her blindfold, opened the door and tried to dance on the unicycle while doing a headstand and juggling three balls with her feet blindfolded. This time, she managed to do this to her car. I have never seen someone achieve this feat and hold the position for such a long time.
If I were asked to tell someone the most fascinating day of my life, it would be today.