Mojo’s class was presenting book reports on
presidents. “So I replied, ‘Dearest father, I cannot tell
a lie. I did cut thy cherry tree.'” “Thank you!” “You nailed it,” exclaimed Mojo. “Thanks! You’re next, Mr. Lincoln,” said Katie. Mojo confidently walked to the front of the class. Mojo began. “Four score and seven years ago, our feathers…I mean, fathers.” Some students snickered. “Ahh, brought forth on this condiment, umm, continent! Continent!” “That government of the purple…Ugh, I mean, people. Sorry. The end.” Embarrassed, Mojo walked back to his desk. “I don’t get it, Katie. I knew it cold. What happened?” “Well, are your palms sweaty?” “Yeah…” “Is your heart beating so fast it feels like
it might break out of your chest?” “Yes! How did you know?” “Simple! It’s the beast!” “The Beast?” “Think of your most powerful emotions, like anger, fear, and anxiety. That’s the Beast.” “It’s part of what makes you…you. But, it can get out of control if you’re
not careful.” “Ahh! How do I get rid of it?” “You can never get rid of it! But, you can tame it.” “Oh, how?” But just then, Katie ran off to her next class. And Mojo was left to wonder. Could he really tame the Beast? Could he even…make friends with it? Now, that’s an interesting question, indeed!