Fifty Shades of Paws

So, someone tasked me to “Write a Fifty Shades of Grey-esque piece, but where Mr. Grey is a cat.” Now, I have never read Fifty Shades of Grey, so what I’ve made is entirely out of my own imagination, guessing my way ahead:

“She sat waiting in the dark office, her back towards the door. A silent click, a beam of light. She couldn’t see it, but she knew it was him. She could hear his soft paws on the hard office floor, her cheeks flushed.

Mr. Fluffykins smirked under his small, black nose. His pet was here, he had trained her well, she was silent until he said otherwise. Beside the smirk, his face showed no expression for or against her being there. He knew she would come sooner or later. Assuring his dominance over her, he rubbed his back against her bare calves, she wore a short skirt, and he could smell her scents. Knowingly, he brushed his soft tail up under her thigh, making her twitch in the chair. He didn’t say a thing, when he jumped into her lap, he was in control of that, anyway. A slight moan escaped her lips, and her cheeks flushed red again. A disapproving look from him quickly brought her to silence once more.”

A fairy tale from a first grade

I tasked a class of first graders, at the school where I worked , to come up with words of things or creatures, that they would want to be a part of a fairy tale. I told them, when giving the task, that the object or creature didn’t need to be of “classical fairy tale origin”, so that they could let their imagination run wild. This is the, translated, story, that I wrote using their words. Each time a word chosen by one of the twenty-two pupils appears in the text, it’s marked in Italic letters.

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there was a slightly odd knight. Rather than a regular horse, this knight instead rode on a kangaroo, his lance was an old, worn flag-pole, and his sword was a wooden plank. One day, the knight got an insatiable hunger for cake, so he quickly saddled his kangaroo, and left his castle, to go into the nearby town to buy some cake from the bakery store. “Giddy-hop now, my loyal jumper!” and off the knight and the kangaroo went. Shortly after, they reached the shore of a wide, deep river. The town was on the other side, which was a bit of a problem for the knight. Even though there actually was a bridge built where the road would otherwise cross the river, the knight dared not to cross it. The knight had a terrible case of troll-allergy, and as trolls had a bad habit of taking up residence below bridges, the knight fear he would get all scratchy, if he went near a troll. As they had no other option, the kangaroo and the knight jumped straight into the river. However, kangaroos aren’t particular good swimmers, especially not when they have a slightly chubby, cake-happy knight in full armour, so both went straight to the bottom. This wasn’t a problem, however, as mermaids for a long time had been living at the bottom, magically creating a pocket of air. At the bottom, the knight met a single, sad-looking mermaid, he asked her, why she was sad. She told him that everyday, she would come to the surface of the river, looking at the town. She could see the fine dresses worn by the women in town, and she could smell the freshly baked bread from the bakery. But she could never get out of the water, and thus she had no opportunity to try these things for herself. The knight was a kind man, and asked if he could bring her the items she wanted, and the mermaid looked at him with a happy smile. And so the knight rose from the water, on the back of his kangaroo, with a new task for him to do.

Meanwhile, up at the town, the city gates were closed. A large dinosaur was attempting to get in, knocking it’s head against the wooden doors. The knight looked at the dinosaur, and clapped it’s scaled behind slightly. “Well, you’re a big one, aren’t you?” The dinosaur turned around, and for a second, the knight thought the he was done for, but instead the dinosaur began to cry. The knight asked why the dinosaur was crying, and between the large creature’s sobbing, it told that it had been bullied out of it’s lair, by a band of migrating penguins. “Alright, lead the way to your lair, I’ll help you with the penguins.” And so the dinosaur, the knight and the kangaroo took off towards some volcanoes nearby. When they arrived, the knight quickly found the cave, as the dinosaur had said “Wait for a bit out here, then roar as loud as you can.” with that, he went into the cave. Sure enough, inside the cave was more than fifty penguins, enjoying the warmth from the lava flows. The knight politely asked why the penguins had chased the dinosaur out of it’s home. The penguins really didn’t want to be disturbed, and grumbled that “It’s a dinosaur, he’s so big he should have no trouble keeping warm. Where we came from, we had to stand in a big heap to get warmth, and those standing furthest out, would STILL get cold.” The knight had not met penguins before, and did not know how or where they were living, so he couldn’t rightly argue against the penguins. However, all of the sudden, from outside the cave, a thundering roar was heard. The penguins massed up, looking around, their expressions were mostly filled with fear and confusion. “What was that?” They asked the knight. “Well…” The knight scratched his stubbled chin, “From my many years of being a knight, I’d say it’s most likely a dragon.” The penguins didn’t know this term, so the knight had to explain “It’s like… a dinosaur, only with wings and it usually breathes fire.” As another roar was heard, the penguins began to scatter, something that was breathing fire would make the cave even hotter, which the penguins wouldn’t want. After the penguins were gone, the dinosaur returned to his cave again, thanking the knight for his deed, who said “Good, but you have to promise to not enter the town again, you’ll scare the people there.”. The dinosaur promised to stay in his cave from now on. And so, the knight returned to his trusty kangaroo, and headed back to the city.

Finally he could enter and buy himself that cake, he wanted so badly. But alas, the baker’s daughter was in fact the princess of the city. Her father, the king, had given her away when she was born, because someone told him an omen that a child would one day take his throne. For this reason, the king had banned all children from even entering the castle. When she saw the knight entering the bakery, she pleaded for him to take her to the castle, as she was missing her mother, the queen, a lot. As on his honour, the knight could not say no to a damsel in distress. And so the knight placed the young princess on the back of the kangaroo behind him, and then they all bounced up to the castle. The castle guards tried to stop the knight, but the kangaroo’s hopping was unpredictable, and the knight was too heavy for them to arrest him. All the ruckus caused the king to wake from his beauty-sleep, coming out on the balcony, wearing his royal robes, royal slippers and his crown, “What is all this racket?” As the king yelled, everyone stopped in their place, and out of nowhere, the knight threw a cream cake, that he took from the bakery. With a majestic splat, the cake landed right in the face of the king. The queen had awoken too, and came out to see what was going on. The sight of her husband, covered in cake all over his face, made her burst-out laughing. The princess and the knight then also began to laugh, and mere seconds later, even the guards were laughing. The king had been disgraced, and rather than regaining his composure, he ran out of the castle, out of the town and as far away as he could, to a place where no people would come.

In his stead, the queen were to rule, but instead she let her young daughter, the princess, become queen. This was a wise decision, as the princess turned out to be a wise and fair ruler. She turned to the knight, and despite him being at least twenty years older than her, she asked for him to marry her. however, the knight refused; he had seen the royal robes, they were fitted for a much less chubby man than the knight. Also, as a king, there would be much work to be done, that would mean less time to eat cake in. And the knight still had a promise to fulfill; quickly, he jumped on the kangaroo again and sprinted back to the bakery. There he bought two delicious cakes, one for himself and one for the mermaid, he also got a special dress sewn for the mermaid. At the bottom of the river, the mermaid was patiently waiting, she got very happy that the knight had returned. The knight handed her the dress and the one cake, and was about to leave for his own castle, when the mermaid asked, “Won’t you… eat your cake with me?” In fact, rather than cake or fine garments, all the mermaid really wanted, was a friend. And so, they lived happily ever after, with lots of cake every day. And if you, by chance, should happen upon a man in a fine robe, with slippers and a crown, and cake in his face, it’s likely the old king, who is still to this day, trying to find a place where no-one knows his shame.

The Beauty of the English Language (and the people speaking it)

So, because I’m a funny (and slightly perverted) fellow, I often make silly gags on profile texts and the likes of it on social media and in games.

One of my profile texts goes as follows: “You can’t spell assassin without saying ass.” Twice, even. That’s witty, it’s true, and it makes you say “ass” in a very clean and rather innocent context.

So, as you’re probably well aware, some people on the internet are a bit, let’s say, stock up their sleeves, right, they don’t like it when people talk about genitalia, or poop, or sex, and the list goes on. Now, normally, one of these kinds of persons are, without making a general statement of a larger group of people, from the US. So, it was to my surprise when a person, claiming themselves to be a UK citizen (with the profile text “The Queen of Chalsea” yes, you read the right, the famous part of the capital of the UK, Londan, Chalsea), in an inbox message wrote: “Asazesin”.

Now, I am used to getting saucy, raunchy and, often, poorly-written messages, but out of context I simply replied “What?”, because that was pretty much my initial reaction. This, presumed, British person then goes on to explain how you can say “Assassin” without saying “ass”, at which point, I’m intrigued. Because… That is how you spell the word “Ass-ass-in”, there is literally no other way to spell that word, it’s hard to even pronounce it without saying ass. Just because I’m also a nice guy, I decide to correct a potential misunderstanding, so I point out, in a friendly and simplified matter, that “Ass-ass-in” is how the word is WRITTEN DOWN in various dictionaries, even in Urban Dictionary, which sometimes takes a liberal twist on the spelling of a word.

Instead of this Queen of Chalsea realising my point, I instead get a stream of inbox messages, not a single LONG text, no many small ones, with my initial thoughts in parenthesis and italic:

“I mean Asazsin in a different way u see it but sounds the same without ass” (oh… kay?)

“How’s that?” (it’s… well, it’s not Asazesin, that’s for sure, still not spelled right though.)

“Im using as instead on ass” (OH THAT’S WHAT YOU DID, honestly, I thought it was the ze/z thing that you had going for you, my bad.)

“Of ass” (Good, you corrected a typo. Shame that you missed the other one, it’s going to get lonely now, “Im” sure.)

“hmm we can’t say nothing can’t be made in a dictionary as a short new term for it think about it” (Technically, you are correct, but that is just not how dictionaries work, “covfefe” haven’t been added to any, real, dictionary yet, even though it was/is a popular term.)

“if u think about it though” (Hmm… No, I’m pretty sure that if I think further about it, I’m only more certain that the only way, as of today, to spell “assassin”, is by using “ass” twice.)

“There’s many letters that can take up sounds buy adding an make up words that’s possible to put in a dictionary for something” (Yes, there are many letters, and yes, you CAN put them together to make sounds, and if written down, they may SEEM like actual words. It’s just unfortunate that a sound only rarely qualifies as a word. Random letters thrown together to, somewhat, resemble a word, is not making a word.)

“I mean adding letters to make simple letter sound the same” (I er… what? No. Still not how you make a word.)

“Plus what if it’s some idk Arabic or African name for somebody in real life” (Ah, well a name isn’t technically a word either, also I’m not exactly certain you know what you’re talking about anymore.)

“Asazsin” (Yes, you’ve said that once, and it seems you’re very proud of your creation. That still doesn’t make a word though.)

A few minutes pass, where I don’t know if I should respond to this further, clearly, we’re so far down the rabbit-hole, oh I’m sorry the repped-huel, that I do not believe it’s possible for me to make this person see reason. Just as I was about to just let it be, I get a final message, the true icing on the cake, if you like:

“who blieves in dictonarys anyways? theyre just old words in books” (Well, there we have it; I think we have discovered the root of the problem.)

I’d really wish that I could help this Queen of Chalsea, but at age 28 (supposedly), I am just not sure how to motivate a person like into learning basic spelling.