Everything I Need to Know I Learned from Dungeons & Dragons by Shelly Mazzanoble Page A

once in an actual yoga class, I’m sure I could have found another use for it. Cushy shower mat? Beach towel? Protecting valuables like those Stuart Weitzman boots I just purchased? Instead I’d probably get a staph infection to go with my fat lip.
    I unfurled the borrowed mat next to a woman I perceived to be the least yoga-ish. She was about my age and her sweatpants didn’t match her sports bra. I liked her instantly.
    She smiled at me as I set up. “Hi, I’m Becky.”
    â€œHey,” I said, introducing myself. “It’s my first time. I’m terrified. Hold me?” I’m a tad nervous and when nervous, I overshare. “Just kidding. You don’t have to hold me. Yet.”
    â€œMy second,” she said. “Wait until you see my killer moves.”
    Aw, Ioun, I think I love you. I’m already chalking this up as a win. I may not leave with my moon in the seventh house, but I’ve already met a nice person. Now as long as the instructor is an actual human and not a tape recorder, I think we’ll be in business.
    She
was
human, and after her welcome, she had us close our eyes and breathe. In and out. Innnnn and ouuuuut. Innnnnnnnnnnnnn and ouuuuuuuuuuuuuuut.
    Snort.
    I’m falling asleep again! What the heck is wrong with me? Is there no middle ground between ZEN and REM?
    After we had sufficiently expanded our rib cages we moved on to some stretches.
    â€œIs this yoga?” I whispered to Becky. I know there are types of yoga that are vigorous and athletic, but this ain’t it. I’ve done more strenuous moves just turning off my alarm clock.
    â€œIt’s
this
kind of yoga,” she answered, mock yawning. We both stifled giggles.
    When the woman in front of us bent over, I got all Sir Mix-A-Lot on her and whispered, “Oh my God, Becky, look at her butt.”
    Becky did a fantastic job of turning her snort into a cough. I tried to behave.
    If I’m not going to justify that beer and barbeque sandwich I might as well get something out of this, I thought. I concentrated on getting in the Zen zone. I opened my mind and my rib cage, ready for enlightenment.
    It really was peaceful in there. And the stretching did feel good. Perhaps my spirit guides had come for me after all.
    â€œNow we move into downward dog,” the instructor cooed.
    Becky, still smiling, slowly bent at the waist and I followed suit. Just as I came mere inches from the mat, I heard something amid the pan flutes and whales calls coming from the CD player.
    Pfffffffffffftttttttttttaaaaaaaaaapppppppprrrrrrrrrr.
    The unmistakable sound came from my right. Oh dear God! Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh! Oh my god, Becky, look at
your
butt! But it was nearly impossible for me to suppress the laughter because when it comes to bathroom humor, I’m an eight-year-old boy. My new friend must have been humiliated. The least I could do is pretend I didn’t hear it.
    I wouldn’t look at her, so instead I focused on the instructor and the more advanced beginner yogis. And oddly enough, they were all focused on me. Wait a minute …
    I looked at Becky. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m sure you’re not the first.”
    â€œOh wait …” I began. “That wasn’t …” Becky couldn’t possibly believe that was me? Was she that out of touch with herself, she didn’t notice an emission like that? Becky needed yoga more than I do.
    â€œLet’s move on, class,” the instructor urged. “These things happen.”
    Sure, they happen! I wanted to yell. To
Becky!
I’d barely broken a sweat, let alone wind. The class returned to their downward dog poses, and I spent the rest of the class sneering at Becky. It’s not very yogalike, and probably even Ioun would be disappointed, but still … if only I had a fraction of my tiefling wizard Tabitha’s magical prowess I’d