Tag Archives: modern

1736. The child can decide

When Valerie and Kent’s first baby arrived in this world they had trouble deciding on a name. Valerie wanted a transgender name such as Kim or Les; an accepted and known name but one that belonged to both females and males. Kent also wanted a transgender name but one with a bit of originality such as Oak or Marble or Peninsula. The child could decide once old enough what it wanted to be called. In the end Kent won out and they provisionally named the child Reverberation Mannequin Crenshaw-Maidstone.

The child was given a naming ceremony, but Valerie and Kent had trouble deciding where that should be held. A church, of course, was out, but the grounds of a park next to a lake with ducks and swans and weeping willows sounded good. In the end the park idea verged on Pantheism, so they invited a few friends around to their back yard and held the ceremony next to a tin fence. The child could decide once old enough what it really wanted to believe and from the beginning Valeria and Kent, by choice of venue, didn’t want to precondition the child into receiving and believing perceived hang-ups.

As the child grew and reached school age, Valerie and Kent decided against formal school education; they would home school Reverberation. A school would shove the child into stereotypical confinements. Although the government demanded certain topics to be covered in the curriculum, Valerie and Kent didn’t want to ram bigoted information down Reverberation’s throat. The child should be able to decide once old enough what interested it and what it should and shouldn’t know.

All this was years ago. These days Reverberation is a professional athlete and goes under the more practical name of Organic Fire. Organic is a lot easier to spell than Reverberation; and Organic’s partner, Zen Wolfeschlegelsteinhausenbergerdorff Ng, doesn’t have to look up how to spell Organic’s name every time an application is made for psychiatric hospital visitation.

1260. Creative Poetry Writing

Kay worked in a supermarket. She was pretty intelligent but not exactly Madame Curie. Still, she maintained a wide collection of interests, read voraciously, and had an insatiable curiosity, not for gossip, but for knowledge.

There was something, however, that she could not understand.

“I cannot,” bemoaned Kay, “understand modern poetry. There’s only one thing for it; I shall attend a series of classes on Creative Poetry Writing.”

Off she went. In the first class, the lecturer gave them a task to complete for the second class. They were to write a poem – nothing too long – entitled “Rain”. This is what Kay wrote:

Rain

Plip plip plip plip plip
Plip plip
Plip plip plip plip plip
Plip

The lecturer praised her work: “An excellent use of imagery and onomatopoeia. Strong alliteration. Very rhythmic. You have a natural talent. Well done.”

Kay never turned up to the third class. She knew the course was crap.