Nick

Happy Thanksgiving to all! In celebration of the only uncommercialized holiday that America has left, I have decided to share something that I have been working on. (This will also explain the new photo at the top of the blog.) Although I have been spending much more time writing essays and such for school, I still love writing good fiction. Or, at least what I HOPE is good. Anyway, I have started a collection of short stories about Nick: Professional Four Year Old! The picture fits in in that the stories will be from an adult perspective, kind of like all those movies about babies who's thoughts you can hear, and they think that grown ups are so stupid and all. It will also have some elements of Calvin and Hobbs in it. All in all, this will be an attempt at much lighter fiction then I have written in the past. Nick will however, still deal with very serious topics.... abet from a more juvenile perspective. He's a little bit like what you would get if you put my grown up mind in a four year old's body who thinks that he can save the world. So I may be adding bits of Spiderman or Stupendous Man as I go on. Nick's sister has boy trouble, his parents fight, his neighbors don't understand him... but he's out to make the word a better place..... one nap at a time.

Nick:

Professional Four Year Old

 

 

“I doubt it.” Ferra looked down upon the sad, upturned beak of the dead sparrow.

            Nick whimpered, “But WHYYYYY?” He was practicing that wonderfully developed sense of logic that most four year olds share through constant inquisitiveness, and a vocabulary of one word.

            He persisted to ask his haggard sister again, assuming that she had not heard him the first time. “WHYYYYYY won’t he fly?”

“He’s dead Nick.” A curt response was all that Ferra could possibly muster at this point in the conversation. All sense of courtesy and any Sunday school lessons from that morning had been long forgotten the third time her little brother had inquired as to why dead things don’t fly. Apparently her reasoning skills were not quite water tight enough for Nick.

Whimpering soon became crying as Nick began to pick up rocks to throw at the bird lying upon the pavement.

“Get up bird! Get up!” Several rocks began their decent towards the immobile creature.

“STOP IT!” Ferra screamed. “Let the poor thing rest in peace!”

“It’s DEAD!” Nick screamed back, looking equal parts pitiful and cute. “It won’t care!”

Soon realizing that physical force was now the only mode of persuasion left to her, Ferra snatched the grubby little hand and jerked it backwards. The street resounded with noise.

“Ow, ow, OOOOWWWWWWW!!!!!!”

Suddenly, a large sedan full of teenage boys appeared by their side, and slowed to a slug’s pace. Catcalls flew out of the windows and reverberated off Ferra’s ears. She knew how she looked, and she didn’t do anything to accentuate it. She didn’t hide it either, a fact that often made her parents fear for her life.

All Nick noticed at first was a sudden slack in his arm, for which he was very grateful. Something tipped his little toddler mind however. He looked around pensively. The bird, the concrete, a fence, his sister, a car, bad boys. Hmmmm… that was what he mommy had told him not to be. Perhaps it was time that he impart some of his hard-won knowledge with these poor souls, who had apparently not been so fortunate.

“Shut up, you….. you…. meanies!!!!!” Nick thought about what he had said for a bit. Had he been too forceful? But no, the car began to pick up speed again and head off in the direction whence it came, and the look on his sister’s face had relaxed enormously. Another job well done for Nick Greedy.

Let me know what ya'll think!

Scott