2130. A litany of achievement

Beryl was excited. She had won a scholarship to a prestigious university.
“All my hard work paid off,” said Beryl. “This is unbelievably exciting! Thank you!”
“Oh no,” said the university. “You got the scholarship because you are Black.”

Earle was excited. He had won a scholarship to a prestigious university.
“All my hard work paid off,” said Earl. “This is unbelievably exciting! Thank you!”
“Oh no,” said the university. “You got the scholarship because you are in a wheelchair.”

Fay was excited. Fay had won a scholarship to a prestigious university.
“All my hard work paid off,” said Fay. “This is unbelievably exciting! Thank you!”
“Oh no,” said the university. “You got the scholarship because you are transgender.”

Craig was excited. He had won a scholarship to a prestigious university.
“All my hard work paid off,” said Craig. “This is unbelievably exciting! Thank you!”
“Oh no,” said the university. “You got the scholarship because you are White. We had to show we weren’t biased.”

(Footnote: Unlike the scholarship recipients in the story above I have had the thrill of having won first place in Chel Owens’ A Mused Poetry Contest. It’s well worth a look at this contest if you don’t already follow it. And it’s fun, free, and easy to enter! You should think about giving it a go!)

2090. Pianoforte lessons, darling

Mazie’s daughter was Mayzing. Mazie was outraged. Her friend, Tammy, was also a parent at Mayzing’s school. The Hir-Oh-No Academy of Arts was not only expensive; it was the cat’s pyjamas. Tammy’s daughter, Shammy, was studying pianoforte at the Academy.

“It’s a wonderful skill to have, darling” said Tammy to Mazie. Thus it was that Mazie enrolled Mayzing in pianoforte. But what a shock!

“You have no idea,” declared Mazie. “More than half the pianoforte keys were white. There are only five black notes to every seven white notes. But what does one expect when all the composers, like Mozart and Beethoven and Burt Bacharach, had bigotry bred into them? I told Mayzing’s teacher that I wanted her to learn only the black notes. There must be pieces written for just the black notes.”

These days, Mayzing is confused. The only true Black notes are Blues ones.

1628. Tatty blues

Gazing out the window at his clothes on the line Bruce realised just how tatty his clothes had become. Not only that, but everything was blue. What was needed was a visit to town and some new clothes. Fliers advertising the coming season’s garments had just come in the mail. This was the answer to a prayer:

New range of colours in our Spring Collection! Join in the innovative springtide riot! Throw all caution to the wind with our symphony of hues!

Feeling a desire to “branch out” this was an invitation to recklessness. Bruce got in his old truck and headed for town.

There they were! Row upon row of the new season’s clothes! All black or a lovely shade of grey. The swimming gear was black with white dots. There was one white shirt in different sizes, and (ah! one colour amidst the dismal rows) three pullovers in dark, dark green.

The next time Bruce hung his washing on the line it was identical to the previous load of laundry: all blue and quite, quite tatty.

1279. Brown eggs

Una and Rory had been married for fifty-two years. For fifty-two years Rory had devoured a boiled egg for breakfast. One egg and a slice of toast. Una made it for him every morning.

Rory was a little fussy; the egg had to be dark brown. Brown eggs were healthy. White eggs were feeble and lacked vitamins and health. A daily dark brown egg it had to be. Brown eggs came from healthy, robust chickens.

“It’s the brown eggs what done it,” said Rory on his eightieth birthday. Which just goes to show that Una’s secret of boiling a white egg in tea was good for the health.