An Attempt at a Story
He looked at him angrily, but unable to glare. It was his fatal weakness, that inability to squint. He hated himself that he could not narrow his eyes with the promise of wrath, that he had to settle with a grave expression of such seriousness that it could only at best be described as a pug trying to form a stiff upper lip..
His inexpressiveness did not end with his face, it touched his voice as well; there was no music in it, just a half-strangled warble, the sound of half-baked pubescence. His manner was ineffectual in conveying what he felt. It was generally agreed by those who knew him that he was poor in communication.
He could not even communicate this truth to himself. He felt he was a genius untapped, for he knew many words, several words, beautiful and effective ones that captured the movement of the dragonfly's wing. He did not know that being a dictionary does not a poet make, which only served to frustrate him more. He was a sad man, a lonely man. In some circles, he was not a man.
His name was Snufflapagus. He lived on Sesame Street.
~
Everyday he was ignored by the people around him. It was the elephant in the room, his existence. His only advocate was a half-grown child with the amusing name of Big Bird. His name was a phallic insult to the nomenclature, but that was to be expected on Sesame Street.
Big Bird was a large child, the anecdotal big kid in school who would have made a fine bully had he not the spirit of a pansy. Truth be told, Big Bird was something of a drag queen, fond of yellow feather boas and pink ringlets around his orange-tanned legs. In a way, he was responsible for the deliberate shunning of Mr "Snuffy" Snufflapagus, for which self-respecting parent of Sesame Street wanted their children to associate with a transvestite and his inexpressive best friend? Unfortunately for Snuffy, it was easier for the parents to accept Big Bird than him for Big Bird was wealthy---endowed with a trust fund at his tender age, he already had his own real estate, a nest that more than compensated for the weirdness that he could inflict on their children. With wealth like that, which parent didn't want their child to have Big Bird in their network?
Thus Snuffy only had Big Bird to talk to, and though he slogged through the inane offerings that Big Bird considered conversation, he was grateful to have a friend.
"Snuffy, why are you always hiding?"
"I'm right here, Big Bird."
"So why can't people see you?"
"I don't know why, Big Bird."
"But I can see you."
"Yes you can, Big Bird."
"I guess this makes our friendship special."
"Yes it does, Big Bird."
And so on. Snuffy's secret dread was for Big Bird to go away for boarding school, for that was what the children of the rich did when they came of age. It was to Snuffy's good fortune that Big Bird's sartorial excesses discouraged the high brow private academies' admissions officers to seriously consider Big Bird as a potential asset to their institution, and while Big Bird was wealthy, he was not uniquely wealthy. That meant that the private schools had no problems denying him entry, for they catered to a broad clientele of the rich and fabulous, just not the effetely rich or the ghetto fabulous.