Kibble Bibber was a Cheese Dancer. He thought he was real good too. He was a cocky Cheese Dancer. He judged other Cheese Dancers.
"These guys don't know the first rule of cheese dancing. Or the last!" he scoffed.
It was true that most people were laughable cheese dancers. Sometimes in his brain ball, despite his experience and knowledge Kibble would question whether he was really any good at Cheese Dancing. But for the rest of the world the evidence was in the eclair. Kibble Bibber chipped away at his craft, carving out a David of reputation. But Kibble Bibber did it for the love. Everyone knew there was no more money in Cheese Dancing. You either had to be Crust Kisser or a Sprinkle Tinkler, which to Kibble Bibber were all lame water perversions of Cheese Dancing.
One day Kibble Bibber stepped off the cheese platform. Moisture forming on his brow.
"Phew. Another Cheese Dance for the books." he said to himself.
"Mark that one on my memory wall." said Kibble to his Little Coach, which was the name for assistant in Cheese Dancing.
"Hey are you Kibble Bibber?" said a man.
"Don't be sewage, of course I am!" said Kibble.
"I'm Bongo Man."
"And? Say something of substance or I have to walk."
"Hey hey you wanna cheese dance at this cheese dancehall spreadhouse?" said the Bongo Man.
At first this sounded like a sudsy proposition.
"Uh, uh..." said Kibble Bibber
"We think you could do it real good."
But then it sounded like maybe something that could flow oranges.
"Uh, uh..." said Kibble.
"You want to let us know?" said Bongo Man.
Kibble was scared. Kibble didn't think the dancehall was that great. But then he thought maybe he just thought it wasn't that great because he was scared. And any dancehall was as good as the next as long as Kibble was Cheese Dancing to the best of his ability. So he said yes anyway. Bongo Man didn't really seem to know much about cheese dancing. It could be a place that Kibble Bibber could try some stuff out.
"This is going to be a walk on the cake." said Kibble Bibber to himself.
But then in the nights leading up to the dancehall spreadhouse cheese dance Kibble started to sweat. He started to soften. His glands began to get warm. He started to swim in thoughts. He got soggy eyed.
"Am I even any good at cheese dancing? Maybe I never was..." he thought. "Am I just cocky bravado and no cheese dance ability?" he thought some more. "Maybe though, that's all the cheese dancing is is cocky bravado." he reckoned. Then he thought "No no this is too difficult to bear, I ought to slop myself in the brain and say goodnight to life." And he was ounces away from doing it. Until he was saved by a thought. "Maybe I'll bravado my way through and if they catch me and freeze me then I'll slop myself in the brain and say good night to life."
So he didn't slop himself in the brain goodnight and they didn't catch and that was the secret to Cheese Dancing, which Kibble Bibber didn't share until he was a cemented legend, at 87 years old, in an interview about the craft of Cheese Dancing.