Pseudonym Jim (please call me James) is an evil, heinous, villainous soul. He plunges his worn battle axe into innocents without hesitation. He pillages villages, ravages cabbages, and rhymes unabashedly and without scheme. Worst of all--he feels no sorrow for what he has done. He'll wake up bright an early tomorrow and repeat it all over again.
When he was young, he called out in class without ever raising his hand. He spoke solely in profanities and vulgarities. He had no consideration for what anyone thought of him. His personal hygiene was abhorrable, his bad habits incorrigible. He didn't learn much in the classroom, but the playground, well that was his battlefield. He killed three peers with a dodgeball in one day, and believe me, there's witnesses who will attest to that.
"I heard he filled the dodgeball with rocks,"
some said.
"No, he simply has superhuman strength,"
others insisted.
I know the truth.
"James rules! Not O'Doyle, James! Long live James! Long live James! Long live James!"
But they called him Jim. They insisted that if he was only a pseudonym, he could do no harm. They knew they could never bring those three children back. Nor the others, the many, many others. They insisted that if they could kill his legend, they could kill him with that legend.
They were wrong.
No seriously, I changed my name to Pseudonym Jim, legally.
1 comment:
This was great, really. I can't wait to read more.
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