P-dot eterborough-dot

This entry comes to the ether by way of Peterborough, Ontario, land of my birth and upbringing. Long story short, you should love Peterborough, because it produced me. (And Erica, but she didn't stick around). I myself do enthusiastically love the P-dot. There was someone playing the bagpipes in a park today. It can't really get much better than that. The only blotch on the record is that since I'm here, I can't be "there" when Stephie discovers her birthday gift. C'est la vie, I suppose. Hopefully she likes it.

My loveable talking dog and cat were here to greet me when I got home and the doors were locked and the lights out. "Bow-wow" says Maggie, the dog. "Bow-wow indeed," says I. "Mrrow!" says Buddy, the cat. "I agree!" says I. I look around for a bit, then head up to bed which is currently drenched with my sweat. I'd forgotten how hot it gets here sometimes. But I woke up this morning and pulled a binder off the bookshelf to find it's the script of a play that I worked on in first year. I flip through the notes and pages tot he back of the binder, and this is what I find: (It's quite long, so chicken out now if you're going to. It was originally handwritten, so I'll try to reproduce that here.)

The story I wish to relate is in regards to Ms. Kate Fenton and her magnificent purple elephant-tiger. Well, not even Kate so much, but more the specifics of her elephant-tiger. So if you wanted a story about Kate Fenton, fascinating as she is, you've picked up the wrong piece of paper. I'll now go into detail about the elephant -tiger. It's hard to picture what one looks like, especially if you are one of those unfortunate people without an imagination. If you are, you are asked to join those who thought this story was about Kate Fenton. Go away and play with Lego for a while, you boring miscreant. Shame on you. Without an imagination there's a good chance that you'll think this is a large ball of rubbish. Almost as large as the elephant-tiger is - most of the time anyway. So, about this elephant-tiger; Try, if you will, to imagine a tiger that is as large and fat as an elephant which has just ejoyed Christmas, and Thanksgiving, and Easter dinners. I like dinner, but that's beside the point. But then, lots of things which are beside the point turn out to be very relevant. Why else would they position themselves next to the point? It just makes sense, doesn't it? But about this tiger; It's big, right? Now picture an elephant that is as long and thin as a tiger which has been absent for all of it's potential Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Easter dinners. Poor git. Now, take your mental vice, and I know you all have one, because if you didn't you wouldn't be here. You'd have left when I told you to. You'll find that people without imaginations take direction from authors very easily. Clearly, I know what I'm talking about because I've written a book and you haven't. But enough about them. Why would we want to dwell on those who cannot communicate creatively? Probably because we cannot fathom how they can go on without imagination in their lives. Yet another example of how we are right and they are wrong. I shouldn't discriminate, but it's hard not to when you think you have all the answers. That's another thing you shouldn't do; look down on those who don't know everything, like you claim to. Don't hold it over their heads. Just help them on their way and get on to making the world a better place. But I'm getting away from the subject at hand which is that of the fabulous Kate Fenton and her elephant-tiger. Well, not so much Kate, but you already knew that. So as I was saying earlier, take your mental vice and moosh the fat tiger and the thin elephant together. Then separate them. Then do it again. Then keep doing it forever.

Life is hard for an elephant-tiger. This is why we're not focussing on Ms. Fenton, but rather on her elephant-tiger. Ms. Fenton's life is fairly easy, which makes her boring. I suppose I'm being a little harsh with poor Kate. She's very interesting on certain topics, but not anywhere as interesting as the elephant-tiger. Elephant-tigers are the one animal which has every other animal as a natural enemy. Even cute little kittens, like the kind Kate Fenton has, loathe and despise the elephant-tiger. Poor fellow. Although I shouldn't make it seem as though there are only male elephant-tigers. In fact, female elephant-tigers are much nicer, prettier, and more industrious than the male. In fact, male elephant-tigers are looked down on as lazy, good-for-nothing lay-a-bouts. Even I don't like them too much and I'm trying to be impartial. Impartiallity is a fairly good quality to have, but then so is modesty, so I'll say no more about it. No one is really sure why the female elepahnt-tiger is less hated (although it is still fairly un-liked) than the males, but no one really tries to figure it out. They're too busy not liking them. Such unparalleled rage towards the poor elephant-tigers. Even more than the legendary Scapegoat. But I digress. There is not enough room to discuss the Scapegoat in all it's intricacies. But about the elephant-tiger. I'm not sure why no one likes them. No one really is. All we know is that they are the most persecuted animal in history. Much more than those of Jewish faith. Not that I'm comparing the Jews to animals, it's just that they've been persecuted quite a good deal. Although persecution is never a "good deal." Terrible things happened because of a few ignorant people. This is one of the oddest things about the persecution of the elephant-tigers. They are possibly the most learned of of all the creatures. Yet you would be hard-pressed, dear reader, to find an elephant-tiger who would ever flaunt it's knowledge. If you were to stop hating it, the elephant-tiger would surely be able to answer any question you could ever ask. Fascinating creatures, both humans and elephant-tigers.I suppose this only proves that humans hate knowledge. No, I suppose that's not true. Even small children hate the elephant-tigers. Before they've learned to hate their own parents, they hate the elephant-tigers. Not that all children hate their parents, it's just that in this increasingly violent society, a lot of children do end up hating their parents on some level or another. I apologize for over-generalizing. Of course not all children hate their parents. Some of them buy their parents lovely Mother and Father's day presents.The point I think I am trying to make is that not everyone should hate the elephant-tigers either. My writing has become increasingly large and sloppy, but I do not blame the elephant-tigers as most would. The elephant-tigers have done little to provoke this. I believe it is just a stress release. You know, I believe that Ms. Kate Fenton uses this same technique to relieve tension. Not to mention it makes my narrative seem much more prolific. If I were to re-write this narrative in a smaller script I would certainly not use half this amount of parchment. Not that I'm writing on parchment, but I secretly wish I were. I suppose the secret's out. Not such a bad thing. I don't know why I didn't just tell someone sooner. Not a load off as some would say, but rather I realize that it wasn't such a big deal. Perhaps this is why Kate Fenton told her neighbor Celia McDermott about her elephant-tiger one day. Celia looked her up and down and said "Oh, that's interesting." and she invited Kate and the elephant-tiger over for a cup of tea. Have I mentioned that the elephant-tiger's name was 'Barry'? I suppose it's quite inconsequential, which is why I didn't mention it sooner. "Barry Williams." Yes, the elephant-tiger had a last name too. But anyway, Celia invited them over for tea. You might be thinking that she had invited Barry along for some sort of devious plan, to 'exterminate him' if you will. But no. She was being very polite. Barry fascinated Celia. It turns out our Ms. McDermott was a closet elephant-tiger fancier. And so was Old ma McEwan, the neighborhood gardener who had been throwing dirty looks in Barry's direction. Once Celia invited Kate and Barry in, John (who is also referred to as Old man McEwan) came running over like he was going to a birthday party. By the way, it might not be fair to refer to John as "Old Man McEwan." Both because some people are sensitive about their age, and because John was only 35 years old. So John took pictures of Barry, and some of Barry and Kate, and some of Barry and Celia, and some of Barry and Kate and Celia, and some of Barry and John, and some of Barry and Kate and John, and some of Barry and Celia and John, and because John's camera had a timer on it, some of Barry and Kate and Celia and John. Then once they'd been through two pots of tea and three rolls of film, they took the film down to the local drug store where Jenny the pharmacist could develop the pictures and everyone could have a jolly good laugh about them. (At one point Kate had placed a rather comical hat on Barry!) So just 3,600 short seconds later, the pictures wereready, and the three friends had a very nice time looking at them. They bought Barry an ice-cream cone from Jenny's pharmacy. (It should be noted that Jenny's pharmacy icarries not only prescriptionsm which is why it's so widely popular. Jenny is a very kind lady, always ready with a smile and a wink for the youngest to the oldest. Fernanda Henry is almost a permanent fixture at Jenny's. She'll sing songs to all the children whi don't look happy. No one could stay unhappy at Jenny's for long! It was too happy a place! In fact they didn't even have to leave if they didn't want to. Jenny had beds upstairs, above the shop, just in case you didn't feel like going home. She even had someone to call your parents to let them know where you were. Good ol' Mary Royal. She was a very enthusiastic individual, but that's not to be held against her. in fact, it's good to be enthusiastic every now and then. Don't over do it though.) So Barry happily munched on his ice-cream cone, and they all sat down and ate their delicious dinner that Barry had prepared while the rest of them were at Jenny's. After dinner, Celia's parents, Daryl and Bonnie stopped by. It turns out that no one really hates elephant-tigers but Rob. You should know who Rob is. He's that guy who, in grade three, kicked you in the shins and stole your marbles. So let's not mention him anymore. In fact, let's not mention much anymore.

To sum up: Lots of people like elephant-tigers, Kate's ot that boring, and I'm out of paper. Good night dear reader. I hope you've enjoyed this story of Barry, Kate, Celia, John, Jenny, Fernanda, May, Daryl, Bonnie, and Rob. Have a nice tomorrow, and try to pet an elephant-tiger if you see one. They'll like it, and so will you.

Good night.

And that's the end. I suppose it's the story of the defamation of an innocent and their eventual restoration as a valued member of society. People can be so cruel. But at least the elephant-tigers are safe once more.