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goldvermilion87The names are really funny to me. Actually, all the names in my old stories. I loved names. Even now I have a very long list of the names that I will name my children, provided whoever I marry likes them (the names, not the children) and I actually want to bear...fifteen children.
Yeah. SO not happening.
Anyway, I really love names, but I used to like really strange ones. All I can say is I really labored over those names. :-)
So, here we have Character Sketch number one. I suspect it to be based on a fable.
The Horses
“Why O, why did I have to be in the same yoke as Herman?” thought Raymond. He was trying to step gingerly around each puddle in the street, while his companion was meditating on a new poem he was composing:
“I think that I shall never see,
A poem quite as lovely as me
I would be loath…
What would I be loath to do? I never could figure that out,” Herman lamented. “What would I be loath to do?” he reiterated for at least the hundredth time. [ Editor's note: Note how I used all my golden words in my first paragraph. Hehe]
“I wish you would be more loath to plow through all the puddles and all this rubble and lacerating my feet on these sharp stones, Mr. Poet,” Raymond commented irascibly. “And what dear Sir, might you be calling this poem?”
“I think that I shall call it ‘The Beauty of Me’,” Herman answered dreamily. “I think it is a veritable title. I am very beautiful. Would you not say so?”
“You are not beautiful, you are HIDEOUS,” Raymond shouted vindictively. “You are the most ugly and self-absorbed horse in the USA!” [Hmm...actually more golden words. Was I guilty of thesaurusizing as a middle schooler? NOOOOO! Also, does anyone find "USA" inexplicably jarring?]
“Really?” asked Herman. He looked into a puddle, and the mudspattered disfigured face stunned him. “I’m sorry. I guess I have been pretty self-absorbed. Do you think that you could ever like me again?”
“Definitely not!” shouted Raymond.
The two horses plodded down Willow Street, Raymond holding his head up high, and not paying attention to anyone in particular (he was proud of having made Herman so miserable) and Herman staring at the ground but shutting his eyes every time he came near a puddle.
Neither of them was paying attention to where they were going, and Raymond, who was ahead, tripped over a rock, and fell headlong into a gaping hole that had opened up in front of them. With an amazing burst of energy, Herman pulled the other horse up.
“You may not be the most beautiful horse,” gasped Raymond gratefully, “but you are the strongest one”
The End
He hadn’t eaten anything since lunchtime. It was now about seven o’clock. “I’m starving,” said Rolo. “I bet I could eat out the restaurant.”
Rolo and his young uncle, Woody were standing outside a little café, and Rolo was looking hungrily at the menu.
“Well,” said Woody, who was standing next to him, “if you eat out the restaurant, I’ll pay for the food.”
“I think I’m that hungry,” Rolo replied. “I’ll take you up on that.” So, Rolo set to work.
“May I help you, Messieurs?” asked the waiter.
“I’ll take a couple of T-bones,” Rolo suggested.
“You are sure zat you vant two?”
“No, I’ll take three.”
“Zree! Monsieur, ve only have four steaks in zee whole restaurant!”
“Okay, I’ll take four then.”
“Yes, Monsieur, vatever you say.” And the poor waiter walked away, trying desperately to keep his composure.
“Rolo, you’d better not do this,” said Woody.
Rolo, however, had a high ego. He was not going to back down once he agreed to something. He thought it would make him look like a fool (as if eating out a restaurant wouldn’t) if he didn’t do what he said he would.
Woody felt a little nervous and embarrassed for having gotten Rolo into this. Rolo had done rash things before. For instance, he rode his bike down a twenty-foot cliff, because he had been boasting about another cliff jump he had done – off a one-foot ledge. It ended up that he broke his left leg and right arm in the process and still walked with a slight limp.When the steaks were brought out, Rolo began to rethink what he had done. The steaks were by no means small. In fact, they were enough to make a good meal for at least ten people. Rolo dug into the steaks and miraculously finished them. Woody couldn’t believe his eyes. It was amazing how much the thin Rolo could fit into his stomach. But there was still plenty more to come. When the distraught waiter was asked how much food was in the place, after staring at them for a couple minutes, he answered, “Vell, ve do have zome leetle cheeckins, about zree, and five dessert pies. But Messieurs, I am afraid that ve vere vaiting for another shipment of food. It von’t get here until tomorrow, so I think zat is all ve have. May I give you your check?”
“No, I think I’ll take the three little chickens,” Rolo answered.
The waiter staggered backward and called out shakily to the cook in the back. “Zree leetle cheeckins and all zee trimmings!”
Rolo ate the chickens and started on the pies. He began to feel very, very sick. He would have backed out of it now, but he did not have the money to pay for all the food he had already eaten. “But,” he thought, “this is it. I only have one more pie to go.”
There was one more sliver of apple pie on the plate. Woody called the flabbergasted waiter. “Is there anything edible left in the restaurant.”
“I don’t think so Monsieur, but I vill check anyway.”
Rolo put the last bite in his mouth, he chewed painfully, he swallowed slowly. He was done.
“Ah, Monsieur, zere is one thing more – A vee leetle petit-four.”
Rolo looked at it. It was indeed “vee leetle” petit-four, but he couldn’t do it. He was sick. “Take the check, Uncle Woody, I’m going into the car.” Rolo pulled himself painfully to the car and began to calculate just how many cars he would have to wash to make five-hundred eighty-three dollars and twenty-one cents.
And finally, the last story.: A combination of Victorian moralizing children's literature and utter weirdness a la yours truly...who truly did keep pet katydids when they were in season for several years. Also, a funny thing: Except for the katydids, the characters are nothing like me. However, the geography of the story is my house. Even now when I read it, I can see in my head where everything is taking place--my house about 10 years ago.
Best Friends – Forever?
Everybody knew that they were best friends. No one had seen them apart since they first met in kindergarten – that is, no one had seen them apart until today.
“It’s time to take attendance, class” called Miss Harrington. “Emily?” – “Here!” “Marguerite?” – “Here!” “Elanor?” – “Here!” When Elanor answered the roll Miss Harrington almost dropped her pencil. She looked up from the paper where she had been busy marking down the attendance and peered around the room through her large dark-rimmed eyeglasses. Marguerite and Elanor, the inseparables, were sitting in opposite sides of the room. And, not only were they sitting on opposite sides of the room, Marguerite was trying desperately to avoid any eye contact with Elanor, who was trying desperately to get Marguerite to look at her. Elanor looked as if she had been crying. Then Miss Harrington got back to the roll and thought nothing more about it.
Miss Harrington had not been the only person to notice this strange behavior. Many others noticed it and were much more inquisitive she had been. At recess, Millie and Lillie the twins were in a corner whispering furiously with Anne and Rachel.
“What do you think could ever have happened?” asked Millie.
“I haven’t got the foggiest idea,” said Rachel.
“Well I heard,” whispered Anne, “That they had a fight!”
“It must have been a big one if it could separate them,” commented Lillie.
This conversation was a replica of almost every conversation on the playground that day. The conjectures made by the children about Marguerite and Elanor were not very far from the truth. There was, however one thing that they were not correct about. Marguerite and Elanor had not fought about anything of importance at all.
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“Has anyone seen my Katydid?” Marguerite called from her bedroom.“It’s in the Library. I was just playing with it,” Elanor shouted up the stairs.
“Could you bring it up here?”
“Sure!”
Elanor ran to the library. Crunch. [Let's be honest--that is a pretty horrifying sound...] She realized with horror that she had left the katydid out of the cage. She didn’t even want to lift her foot, but she had to. Sure enough, there was the poor katydid flattened on the hard floor.
“Oh no!” she gasped. She ran for a paper towel and cleaned up the mess. Then she walked slowly up the stairs to Marguerite’s bedroom.
“What took ya so long? Is Katy gaining weight?” joked Marguerite.
“Well, I, I,” Elanor hesitated. Then the words came pouring out. “I forgot to put Katy back into her cage. When I ran in to get her, well, I stepped on her by mistake. I’m so sorry Marguerite. I really didn’t mean to. I’ll try to find another one.”
“You lost Katy?” said Marguerite angrily. “Katy was my only female katydid. [Again, this is not at all like me. However, I did have dreams of raising Kadydids, and having a Katydid farm. So I tried to tell if they were male or female.] Now you’ve killed her. I’ll never be able to find another one.”
“I’ll try to find you another.”
“No, you could never find one that I would like. Just go home and leave me alone.”
“Marguerite, what about the studying we were going to for tomorrow’s test?”
“I don’t want to study with you. You might rip the book or something. Just go.”
Elanor was stunned. She ran crying from the room. She couldn’t understand why Marguerite was making such a big fuss about nothing. She really hoped that Marguerite would listen to reason tomorrow.
That was why Marguerite and Elanor had been distanced from each other that whole school day.
When Marguerite got home from school that day she felt miserable. For some reason, seeing the hurt look on Elanor’s face had not comforted her for the death of her katydid. In fact she had really wanted to play with Elanor and share secrets with her, but every time that she almost gave in and talked to her, she thought of the empty insect habitat at home. There really is no explanation for why Marguerite was so hurt about a katydid, and Elanor probably could have found her another one. However, once Marguerite got angry at someone, she was too proud to admit that she was angry and make up. She would rather be miserable and see Elanor miserable than humble herself and admit herself in the wrong.
Marguerite glumly took out her math and looked at the problems. She must have been too busy nursing her anger to pay attention to class! She didn’t have the slightest idea how to do them.
“Well I guess I’ll just have to call Elanor.” Marguerite was halfway to the phone when she remembered. “Well I’m not calling her. I don’t want to call anyone else. They might ask me what was wrong. I also can’t ask my mom or my teacher because they will find out that I wasn’t paying any attention at school. I sure hope I can figure out this math, and all my other homework.”
Marguerite went back to her bedroom and looked at the math problems. It made her dizzy just looking at them. She wasn’t very smart and math was by far her worst subject. She just plowed through all her homework and knew all along that she was not getting anything right.
“Marguerite, come down for supper.”
“Coming, Mom,” she shouted back. Marguerite ran into the bathroom to wash the tearstains off her face. She had been crying tears of rage and frustration.
“Why did that stupid Elanor have to kill my katydid? It was all her fault. If she could just screw her brain on right, she might remember to put away things that she plays with. Especially,” Marguerite added to herself, “if they belong to other people.”
Marguerite usually did not badmouth people even to herself, but she was trying to justify herself. Her conscience was screaming at her.
“You know that katydid was just a ridiculous bug. There was no reason to get so mad at Elanor like that. You know that you probably would have killed it in a day or so yourself. You had better apologize and be friends with her again.”
“There is nothing to apologize for. She owes me an apology.”
“No she doesn’t, she already apologized, besides, it’s not like she even killed an animal. It was an INSECT!!! There are so many katydids around this time of year that you can hardly get to sleep because of the noise. You could catch dozens of them if you put your mind to it.”
“Oh, just shut up.” So, Marguerite walked to the dinner table.
“Was Elanor sick today?”
Marguerite looked up in surprise. “What?”
“What I said was, ‘Is Elanor sick today?’,” repeated Marguerite’s mother.
“No, why?”
“Well, she looked kind of pale. And she always comes here after school.”
“She’s just fine.” Marguerite said over-confidently.
“She’s not fine,” yelled conscience.
“Is too. And besides, didn’t I tell you to be quiet?”
“I don’t care if you did. But I’m just saying that you were lying when you said that Elanor was all right.”
“Is that so? Well then, why do you suppose she came to school? I should think that her mother would be smart enough to keep her home if she was sick.”
“You know what I mean. She is not literally sick, although she could get sick from worrying.”
“Well I don’t care if she does get sick. It would be her own fault.”
“It would be your fault.”
“Oh please, just let me eat in peace.”
In family devotions, Marguerite’s family was going through the Beatitudes.
“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the sons of God,” read Marguerite’s father in his deep voice. “You see children…”
Marguerite’s father was drowned out by her conscience. “You see, you see! You are not being a peacemaker. You are being disobedient to God’s word. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
Marguerite just ignored her conscience and pretended to listen to her father. But, that night she started thinking about what she had done. She really missed having Elanor around. “Well I hope Elanor feels sorry about making me so miserable.”
“You are making yourself miserable. And you should not wish other people to feel bad. If anything was to happen to Elanor while you are still enemies, you would never be able to live with yourself.”
“I wouldn’t feel that bad.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes I do,” she yawned at her conscience. And with that, Marguerite fell asleep.
At about twelve o’clock the phone rang Marguerite woke up and answered it. “Hello.”
“Hello,” came a fuzzy voice. “Is this the Bernard family residence?”
“It is,” Marguerite said sleepily.
“Well this is the hospital, I’m calling on behalf of the Cotton family, to say that their daughter Elanor has just died of an unknown cause and they ask you to pray for them.”
“What? It can’t be true, it can’t!
“But it is,” came the answer from the eerie voice.
“No No No No No No” Marguerite screamed. [And in Victorian children's lit. This would be THE END]
“Honey, wake up!” called a familiar soothing voice. “You must have been dreaming.”
“Oh, but it was so scary.”
“Well don’t worry, it wasn’t real.”
“Thanks, Mom. I think I’ll go back to sleep now.”
“Goodnight.”
“Well,” Marguerite mused, “I can see now that I have been pretty mean. Thank you, God,” she prayed, “for letting me see it before it was too late. And please forgive me for being so mean to Elanor.”
The next day in school Elanor looked into her locker. There was something stuck on it. It said “Dear Elanor, please forgive me for being so mean to you yesterday. The katydid really is not that important. Hurry up and get to class before someone steals the seat I saved for you. Love Marguerite. P.S. Whose house should we go to tonight? (There is a big spelling test tomorrow.)”
Elanor ran into the room and seeing Marguerite sitting in the corner, with a pile of books on the desk beside her, smiled, ran up, and gave her a big hug.
Well, I hope you enjoyed. 2001 is around the corner with more fascinating poetry and prose. :-P
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Date: 2010-10-11 10:10 pm (UTC)