Posts
I've always thought myself to be a creative fellow; I have ideas, I write them down, and I end up creating imaginary worlds. I once blogged here about inherited genes, and the fact that the love of words and writing can be passed on genetically--that in fact I think I did inherit those things from my mother.
Now I look at the creative output of my own children and I am amazed by the raw power of their wordplay. The other day I chanced upon a dialogue my son had with his cousin Dan. They are both fourteen, both starting high school. They are good friends, but they live 30 minutes apart and only see each other every couple of months. So they chat online, or they talk on Facebook.
One day they had this electronic conversation, and Ian saved it to his files because he thought it was funny.
To me, it is the chat of young people in love with language (thank goodness they still exist!). And I wonder if these two will be thriller writers in ten or twenty years.
Ian
Ello, then.
Dan
Ello, chap. Tally ho.
Ian
What what? Blimey!
Dan
But Gov'nor, you'll contract a rare case of glaucoma!
Ian
Not if I can help it. Retract the Niherney Formula, and fast!
Dan
I would if I could, but I am not able.
You'll have to consult the Wry Humor division if you ever want to see little Sophie again.
Ian
Then we must redouble our efforts at Fort Neighberger. Oh, by all means, kill little Sophie. I have no need for her now. (Maniacal laughter).
Dan
(sharp, terse inhalation) You cur!
Fort Neighberger has seceded thrice since last Septwain!
Ian
You’re the only cur here, Mondaingo. Your inepttitude is outdone only by your own misanthropy.
Dan
Hah! You can't even spell ineptitude. Therefore, Team Irresistible Flamingo wins by default.
(whispering) Fort Neighberger will be mine! (cackles).
Ian
So I accidentilly hit an additional t . It won't matter once the Wininski files go public.
Dan
You appall me. I am appalled. In case you didn't know, Mendelson, my old grandplanker was killed by an extra T!
And furthermore, the Wininski files haven't been licensed correctly since the 1920s.
Ian
Your grandplanker was a disgrace to the order. You forget your place, Antoine. You work for Scarlahnka; you think there won't be consequences. Fool.
FOOL!
Dan
I may be a fool, but at least I made the grip-off to Ellis in 0.448848484
Back in...
Back in...
Oh dear.. I seem to have forgotten my revenge lines.
Ian
Don't be an indignant cow, Glamsworth. You know Ellis can't help you now. Moriarity has the codes.
Dan
Moriarty is dead.
Who has the codes?
Ian
Moriarty...dead? It can't be!
Dan
Oh, but it CAN. IT CAN.
And there ended their bizarre exchange, filled with a love of drama, words, phrases, secret agent-sounding cliches, fun surnames, and the joy of creating. Does it make sense? Not at all. Is it funny? I thought so.
Isn't it nice to know that young people still love words and aren't only text messaging each other?
