Something I realized after a few years of doing this is that I can’t find a publication that has any interest in publishing humorous (presumably) non-fiction. So what’s a person hell-bent on self-aggrandizement to do for validation? That’s when I got the idea to start stretching my writing legs and writing fiction. Hopefully it’s entertaining and I’ll try to keep it pithy, meaning the stories will be serialized. I hope you’re up for this. Also, be gentle, it’s a first draft.
To My Unborn Daughters Part I
To my unborn daughters,
This is why I won’t be there to see you born, to see you take your first steps, see you learn to love, help you through your heartbreaks, or pridefully watch you grow into women. It pains me that I won’t even know your name or see the miracle of your births and I curse myself for the failings that led me to the predicament that robs me of you and blesses you with my absence.
The beauty in that pain is that you won’t know the real me or have to deal with me. I thought about lying, leaving you with a tome of fanciful swashbuckling tales, a heroic folklore so you could be proud of your father. But you deserve to know the truth outside of the sensationalism of journalism and, hopefully, learn from my mistakes. Though I am your father, I’m afraid that is one of the very few mistakes I made that I don’t regret. As you have probably learned from your mother, I am–was not a good person. Though all of my actions and decisions were made out of necessity, they were no less predatory.
Your mother and whosoever she may have coupled with, may have imparted some apocryphal tales of my nefarious misdeeds (If either of you do not understand the vocabulary I choose, please, look up the words, I refuse to condescend to you through the diminution of my language. The more you learn and expand your vocabulary, the less people will be able to pray upon your ignorance and confusion.) but I assure you my natural talents were only used to relieve hoarders of resources of a modicum of their fortunes. My sins are–were infinitely mild than those exploiting political power for financial gains or corporate predatory powers. But I’m not here to pontificate on the evils of abusing capitalist structures, nor am I attempting to absolve myself.
Though your mother tried to convince me that I was providing a service, giving people comfort, it seems obvious as I take stock of my life that I was preying upon the grieving. You two created a justification for my heretofore reckless existence. When I learned about your existence, I felt the need to legitimize my practice, to have that one thing to point to that would justify–that would make you proud to have me as a father. Retrospect tortures me in my waning moments.
~End Part I
What will happen to our unreliable narrator? What’s his deal? What’s up with telling and not showing? Should I keep writing or just realize that this half-a-draft ought to be aborted? I don’t know, and I’m the one writing this silly thing. Thank you for reading.
Well, I definitely want to know more about this. Who is he? Who are the daughters? Why is he writing now?
You wimp, having to specify that it’s fiction. We could have all been left with the impression that you’re about to be a father… and dying, apparently.
Have you ever read the letters that late Houston hand doctor Michael brown wrote to his infant kids? This reminded me of that, although Dr. Brown ended his with “Sorry about your mom. I was horny and she had a nice ass.”
I like this so far, and congrats!
No, no congrats to me. No baby–singular or plural–to me. Stop wishing phantom babies on me! But thank you for the perfect ending line.
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Intriguing! I’d read some more.
Yes! Keep doing this!
Ooooookay. You know I’ll return for more.
Dammit man! Your words are too big for me! And because of such, I can’t fathom this story will be of any substance to my liking. Since you won’t, how did you put it…? ” I refuse to condescend to you through the diminution of my language.” Are there no layman’s terms to cater to your audience?
Nah, just kidding. I like your vocabulary. And although I don’t know what those big words mean, I can usually gather their meaning through the context in which it was written. I try to store these words in my brain for future use to, you know, make myself look smarter. But since I am not smarter than what I project myself to be, my brain refuses to retain any knowledge gained. This is my curse.
If you publish it, I would read. Keep doing what you do.
I’m fascinated. I’m intrigued. I’m even a little aroused. That last part had nothing to do with the story, but since I’m sharing, I figured why not go with it.
Really though, I am looking forward to seeing where our narrator takes this, both in exploring his misdeeds and in exploring his impeccable vocabulary. Also, this is the exact reason why we write fiction and not humorous non-fiction. Welcome to the magical land of “something you can actually sell down the road.”
I love it, Pickleope! And I love that you are branching out with something new on your blog. This was great and I’m completely sucked in and want to know more. So please give us more 🙂
This was bloody marvellous I truly enjoyed the post
I would read more – it’s hooking me with intrigue and questions – lots of questions.
Could he be a sperm donor? One with a Master’s degree in Linguistics? Did he in fact overcharge for that 1/4 teaspoon of golden shower? Did sumbody whack his pee-pee and now he’s on da street? So it’s “confession is good for the soul time,” but he wants to remain a gigolo? Egads! What will become of our, erst I say it, (gasp!) HERO??
For reasons I dont understand I cant follow using my blog so I am missing stuff. . . . . technology is weird. Well that is life for you, all these tiny issues that crop up and make me have to think of solutions life is tough (OK its not that tough).
If you abort a piece you know you will get a lot of hate mail from the pro-writers.
Don’t leave us hanging, Pickleope!
I take a mini-break from the internet & this happens (because, obviously, everything involves me in some way or another). I am intrigued, though. Looks like I’ll have some catching up to do.
Children never learn from their parents’ mistakes. Why do you think the human race isn’t making any progress? But I would like you to be my FB buddy. I think you’re great. You’re so fantastic. Oops sorry about that. That’s what happens when you’re only partly brainwashed. You were saying? Nefarious… wat does that mean and why isn’t there a link to explain this difficult word to me? I stand corrected… I can learn your mistakes but you’re not my Daddy, so basically I don’t stand corrected. Not necessarily. You were saying? You were providing a service? Did that involve a cup? (You may raise your eyebrows and smile – unless it’s true, of course.)