For the music contest

I'm among those who love music so much but can't sing. Okay, let me put it this way; I can sing very well, but that's only in my head. My outer voice doesn't provide listening pleasure, which is why I keep my singing to myself. I love music so much that not a week goes by without me writing about it in some music communities in this blockchain.

Earlier this year, I received a message from one of my friends asking me to check some information and get back to her.

I checked the message, which contained a link to a music competition hosted by one of the communities in this blockchain.

"Hahahaha!" I burst into laughter, my hand hitting the desk nearby. I couldn't contain the amusement because it's hard to believe that a friend who knows me well would recommend me for a singing competition.

I messaged her back, and she replied with a voice note, "Kingsley, you write about music a lot, and I trust you to hop into this challenge. Remember, the grand prize is huge...if you win, I'm sure to get a portion of it." Her voice note sounded optimistic but was mixed with laughter.

I sighed, opened the content again, and saw that the prize ranged from $800 for first place, $500 for second, to $300 for third. Actually, that's a really huge sum, and it would go a long way in settling my bills if I were to win.

It felt like I was enchanted, as suddenly my mind began to think deeply about it, and finally, I accepted to give it a try.

Entering the challenge was simple; it was just a matter of singing and video recording, then making a post of it. It appeared simple to me because I had seen a lot of articles like that...afterall the people that have been doing it do not have two heads.
I went to my music list, walked through all the songs, and finally picked "Do Me" by Psquare. Oh yes, that's one particular song that trended very well during 2012, and the trend of the song made everyone of us to master the lyrics very well.
I got up from my seat, went to where I keep my already ironed clothes, grabbed one—a white long sleeve shirt—and put it on before returning to my table. I tried positioning the camera on the table in selfie mode, but it kept falling.

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"Do these people always use tripods to make their videos?" I pondered aloud. Upon reviewing the videos I had seen, they didn't seem to have been recorded from a tripod stand. So I went back to position the camera, and luckily, it stayed fixed. I picked up my other phone, played the instrumental of the song, and as soon as I started singing, the next thing I saw was myself rolling on the bed nearby. What happened? I couldn't imagine seeing myself on camera singing—it looked so awkward that laughter erupted as if I had been infected by nitrogen II oxide.

After laughing to my satisfaction on the bed, I got up, straightened my neatly pressed shirt, which had become wrinkled due to my antics. I just hissed, went to the phone, which was still recording, and stopped it.
I decided to play it back, but the first scene was nothing to write home about, so I deleted it to avoid anyone accidentally seeing it.

After that, I sent a message to my friend saying I wouldn't be able to participate, or perhaps she should forward the information to other friends. I didn't tell her about the comedy show I displayed; she would have pestered me to retrieve the video from wherever I had sent it to.