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A quote: “There is a level of cowardice lower than that of the conformist: the fashionable non-conformist.” ~~ Ayn Rand
I’ll start with a story …
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“Sit down, Sarah.”
“Mrs. Butler.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m Mrs. Butler, Principal Starnes.”
“Fine, Mrs. Butler. Now, about Steven’s issues. They have been..”
“They?”
“Steven has refused to declare their pronouns. So…”
“Steven is a boy. Don’t you bully him about such nonsense, too.”
“Steven is not bullied …”
“He was jumped during recess.”
“MRS. BUTLER. Steven ranks at the top of the privilege pyramid, and therefore…”
“Stop. You’re not going to hold those boys responsible?”
“Steven is the responsible party here …”
“I’m removing Steven from this school immediately.”
Mouth twisted in vindictiveness, “We’ll see about that … Sarah.”
“Try me.”
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Now, it’s your turn.
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. featured image Adobe Stock standard license.
Lloyd says: Would that this scene would play out all across America !
Cameron says: I am now reminded of the story “Anonymous Rex” (A series I wholeheartedly recommend.)
liz says: Did you hear about the non-binary prospector?
He found gold in them/their hills.
Dupin says: LOL. That’s funny.
liz says: Heh, thanks.
Been waiting for the opportunity to use that one. 🙂
Dupin says: “What was that all about?”
She smiled. “I just gave my two-week notice. Mister T isn’t a happy camper.”
I chuckled. Tiberius Barex (T-Rex out of earshot) wouldn’t be. Loud, lots of teeth, and his arms were just short enough that he had to have his suits tailored.
“After Kae left, I’m not surprised. You took lead on her project.”
“She called. They had openings and a twenty percent raise. Looks like you’re lead now. Sorry about that.”
I gave her a smile, then laughed. “Don’t be. I’ll give him a half hour to calm down. Kae called me, too.”
Deborah B. says: Ah! the privilege pyramid. Must be like our new food pyramid where the nutritional value of Lucky Charms outweighs the humble egg.
Cameron says: The lawyer smirked at me. “I’m sure this will resolve matters.”
I read through the paper and glared. “This is over twenty percent less than what we agreed on.”
“Unless you think you can fight-”
My vision went red and my flesh distorted. He had a moment to look in horror at the monster I became before I lunged at him. As I took my human shape back, the other attorney looked at me in horror.
“What…”
“You really think werewolves are the only game in town? So you saw my answer to your terms. Come up with something better.”
I remember this art teacher I had back in school who was always bugging us to “push the boundaries” and “be creative.” Believe me, I was trying, but somehow my magical girls and space knights and anthropomorphic animals were never creative enough, never far enough out there to satisfy her.
She was always going on about her “little red house” that she was working on. When she finally shows it to us, obviously expecting us to ooh and ah about it, I thought my kid brother in kindergarten can do better than that. But I kept my big mouth shut. I didn’t want to get in trouble for disrespecting a teacher — and I didn’t want to sound like Khrushchev trashing Neisvestny either.
But even today, I still like Bonestell and Frazetta and Vallejo and Miyazaki better than most of the abstract and semi-abstract stuff the art critics are always raving about.
Navig8r says: My first instinct was to haul out my 44 magnum and start blasting, but I remembered before the swirling, he looked human. 44 magnum? I hadn’t owned one before. No memory of acquiring one. I suspected a plan. Not mine. I didn’t like it. Other swirling fragments. Nightmares. Black SUV. Blacked out windows. Restraints, masks, lab coats, injections. Blinding lights. Complete darkness. Swirling colors. Concentrate. Get a grip. Need to channel all the Hunter S. Thompson novels I read back in college. When I was supposed to be doing my calculus and thermodynamics homework. He’d know how to handle this.
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