>>> Item number 25585 from WRITERS LOG9402B --- (120 records) ---- <<< Date: Wed, 9 Feb 1994 18:35:01 JST Reply-To: WRITERS Sender: WRITERS From: Mike Barker Subject: SUB: Not A Story I hope you'll all like this - I saw it in the rubble last week and picked it up, polished the dust off, and here it is... oh, and thanks to the other authors - they laid the whole story out, all I did was fill in the outline a bit. (seriously - no sarcasm intended, you two did it, all I did was pick it up and shake the dust off it. Thank you!) (those pseudonyms sound like an explosion in a fishing box...) tink ----------------------------------------------------- Not A Story Copyright 1994 Michael J. Oliveira (Hook) William Siers (Pop) Mike Barker (Tink) A man with a green hat bought a fish. He had a sister. His two sisters died. He threw the fish on the roof and they held a funeral with the fish on the roof. The fish fell off. And an old bum ate it. The psychologist listened to the creaking voice of the autistic child, the long unused vocal chords shaking, breath whistling from the slack muscles, and he bit his lip. It didn't make sense, it was impossible, but he listened and tears ran down his face. A man with a green hat bought a fish. He had a sister. His two sisters died. He threw the fish on the roof and they held a funeral with the fish on the roof. The fish fell off. And an old bum ate it. The professor looked at the paper turned in by the freshman, and he groaned. He looked quickly at the boy's academic record and test scores - solidly average. Then he looked at the paper that was supposed to be a story again. He looked above his desk at the bookshelf, with the well-thumbed copy of Shakespeare's plays, the thick dictionary and thesaurus, the tiny Strunk and White, the AP style guide. He shook his head and looked at the paper once more, then turned the light in the room off and left. A man with a green hat bought a fish. He had a sister. His two sisters died. He threw the fish on the roof and they held a funeral with the fish on the roof. The fish fell off. And an old bum ate it. The secretary sighed. The vice-president was taking another course in the evenings and had asked her to type his papers. This was what a man with an MBA, two Mercedes, and an unlimited expense account did with his spare time? She looked at the folder, digging out the registration slip from the front. What was he taking? Remedial English For the Functionally Illiterate? She whistled, and wondered just what she could.. no, what should she.. no, no, better not even think about it. She looked at the story, scrawled in pencil on a yellow legal-size sheet, and nodded. Then she rolled the paper into her typewriter and began tapping the keys. There would be no mistakes in this paper. A man with a green hat bought a fish. He had a sister. His two sisters died. He threw the fish on the roof and they held a funeral with the fish on the roof. The fish fell off. And an old bum ate it. He looked at the paper. He bit his lip and looked in the red book. F..U..N..A..L..E..R It wasn't in the red book. But she was coming. He held the paper up, and gave it to her. He watched her face. Maybe she wouldn't be too angry about the word he didn't know. "That's very good, John!" She patted his hand, and he started to cry. "I don't know that word, Miss Cathy. I'm sorry, I really wanted to get it right." She lifted his chin, and looked at him. "Which word, John?" "That one for dead people's parties. I thought it was right, but I couldn't find it in the red book, so it must be wrong." She looked at the paper, then at the red book, then said, very soft, "John, how long have you been in this center?" He bit his lip. "A long time." She thought about it, then said, "When did you come here? How old were you?" He chewed on his lip. He held out both hands, then closed them, then held out one hand, and one finger on the other hand. "Sixteen. That's sixteen, right? And you're at least 35 now, so you've been here 19 years." She nodded, slowly, and her face looked angry. "John, spell that word for me. Read it from the paper and tell me the letters you see." He scratched his arm, and pulled at his ear, just like Uncle Billy taught him. Then he said the letters, right out. "F..U..N..A..L..E..R" She looked even more angry. He started to cry, and she grabbed his shoulders. She was crying too. "John, I've read your case record. I know what they have you booked in here for - and they are wrong! You have dyslexia - you get the letters mixed up - but we know how to teach people with that problem. They've wasted almost 20 years of your life by claiming you couldn't think - and they were the ones who couldn't think." He tried to smile. He didn't know what she said, she went so fast. "Oh, John, I went too fast, didn't I? Look, do you want to learn? Are you willing to try? I'll help you." He nodded. He understood that. "Then by god, you're going to get out of here, in time." A man with a green hat bought a fish. He had a sister. His two sisters died. He threw the fish on the roof and they held a funeral with the fish on the roof. The fish fell off. And an old bum ate it. The words weren't a story. They could never be a story. But the miracle touched them, and they were transformed, as story after story after story grew from them. They will never be a story - but oh, what tales are told about them! -----------------------------------------------------