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fifth grade my friend Jimmy changed his name to People are Starving
in Ethiopia. I told him it wasn’t a good idea, but he never
listened to me, just like he didn’t listen when I told him
not to send microwave dinners over there. Every week he’d
steal at least one tray of Six Cheese Lasagna from his mom’s
freezer and send it to the American Embassy in Ethiopia, labeled
“For the Starving People.”
“It’s just that people forget,” he squeaked
in his voice that reminded me of a squirrel on helium. “We
talk about it in class and then people forget, so now they can’t
anymore. When anyone says my name they have to remember.”
“They’re just going to shorten it anyway,”
I told him.
People are Starving in Ethiopia had started a trend. But, sure
enough, he would only be People are Starving in Ethiopia for a
day.
For a while everybody started changing their names. There was
The Rainforest is Dying, We’re Polluting the Oceans, and
Global Warming. One day Tommy Smith changed his name to Dad Hits
Me a Lot. All the other kids thought that was a little strange.
One day Global Warming got in a fight with The Rainforest is
Dying. Global Warming was a bully anyway, one of those kids who
laughed at you when you didn’t buy all your clothes at Macy’s
or rolled the wrong pant leg or didn’t roll it far enough.
He wanted to call her just Rainforest, and she said that was just
not okay. So Rainforest is Dying’s hair was pulled, and
Global Warming was kicked in the groin. They both ended up having
a talk with the principal.
Meanwhile, I found a name for myself. My mom said that on the
way to work one day there was a whale circling under the Golden
Gate Bridge. All the cars slowed down to nearly a stop as people
watched. The next day I told People are Starving my new name was
The Whale Under the Bridge that Stopped Traffic.
“That’s a stupid name,” he chirped.
“It’s better than Spelling Homework,” I said,
pointing at a kid with glasses and giant patches of red freckles.
Lately there were names like this all over school as kids renamed
themselves to remember homework or phone numbers.
After a day my best friend’s name was People are Starving,
then simply People, and finally just Peeps. Nobody likes a long
name. Chelsea, who had boobs in fifth grade and everybody called
Chesty but not to her face, asked, “Why’d you name
yourself after an Easter candy?”
“What?” squeaked Peeps.
“Those little yellow sugar chicks,” Chesty said.
“No, it’s People are Starving in Ethiopia,”
he said.
Other kids thought his name came from the fact that his voice
sounded like a peeping chicken.
Despite her wishes, The Rainforest is Dying soon became simply
Rain. Global Warming wasn’t happy with his new nickname
either, Globby, which he thought was an insult about his weight.
People started calling me Whale, and that annoyed me because the
whale was really beside the point. I did my part to remember all
the names. When he was down to Peeps with the other kids, I still
called my best friend People are Starving.
People are Starving in Ethiopia was crying at recess.
“What’s wrong,” I asked him.
“This isn’t right anymore,” he said.
The next day Dad Hits Me a Lot came to school with his arm in
a splint. I asked him what happened.
“Fell down the stairs,” said Dad Hits me a Lot.
After that, People are Starving in Ethiopia told me he wanted
to just be Jimmy again. “Whatever, Peeps,” I said.
He can’t just change his name whenever he wants to.
Just then, Water Pollution came up to us with her hand stuck
in her pants. She was always digging around down there. “Can
you tell Dad Hits Me a Lot he’s doing it wrong,” she
said.
“Doing what wrong?” said Peeps.
“His name. What does Dad Hits Me a Lot have to do with
the world?”
“I’ll talk to him,” Peeps said sadly.
But he didn’t talk to him. Dad Hits Me a Lot stayed in
the classroom at recess, making him hard to find.
I noticed no one was talking much anymore except to fight. One
morning People Suck stole People are Cool’s lunch because
her name offended him, and they were set to fight in the field
after school. All the kids started changing their names that day.
It began at lunch when Globby changed his name to People are Cool.
Though several kids argued he couldn’t have a name that
had already been taken, he explained it was to show support for
his friend.
There we were at 3:05, lined up on each side of the field, all
the People Sucks on one side, all the People are Cools on the
other. Between us, squared off like serious fighters, their Pokemon
and Garfield lunch pails dropped to the ground and pushed to the
sidelines, stood the original People Sucks and People are Cool.
People Sucks kicked the grass like a horse. People are Cool stuck
out her tongue and blew her enemy a raspberry.
They charged.
Suck got a handful of Cool’s hair and swung her around
by it, pro wrestler style. She screamed and flipped over, losing
a fistful of curls before grabbing Suck’s shirt and ripping
the collar down almost to his belly. Suck tried to kick her, but
the giant roundhouse made him slip in the mud, landing him on
his back with a splash. Cool saw her chance and crashed down onto
his belly with her bottom and legs. She scratched his cheek with
a sharp fingernail, leaving a mark that looked like a long, red
worm.
“Let me up,” Suck sputtered. “You’re
just lucky I don’t hit girls.”
“Say you’re sorry,” said Cool.
Suck stared at her and struggled to get up, but with her weight
and the slippery mud he couldn’t move. C ool held her sharp
fingernail over his face again.
“Okay! Sorry!” Suck yelled.
o
it was done. The next day everything was pretty normal. Most everyone
went back to their old names. Dad Hits me a Lot—Tommy Smith—was
absent, which wasn’t really strange either. He’s sick
pretty often.
[END]
© 2006 Wyatt G. Bessing - Contributor's
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