This is fiction, another chicken scratch from my weekly writing group. We were to write a list of things we know, and so I started this fictional list because my 8th grade class is currently reading Taming of the Shrew.
- You have really bad athlete’s foot. The skin on the bottom of your feet peels off in little flecks, and you spend an inordinate amount of time rubbing and scratching between your toes, which you makes your feet smell pungent and rank.
- You never finish reading anything. Magazines, cereal boxes, novels, newspaper articles, furniture assembly instructions. You make a big show of reading the first 20% very carefully — out loud — but then you stop as if that was all you needed to know. You don’t even skim to the end. You just stop. And then you often pointedly discuss things with me from the fragments of what you’ve read.
- You do not like condiments. This may not be particularly odious to me had you not an extraordinary sensory sensitivity to the presence of the consumption of condiments. Once I had a hot dog with ketchup from a stand, brushed my teeth and flossed after my workout at the Y, came home and had two beers, and when you walked through the door, you knew immediately. You refused to come upstairs and puttered around in the basement like a grouch all night long.
- You are color blind, a fact clearly established through several empirical demonstrations, and yet you refuse to admit this.
- Relatedly, your choice of socks is atrocious. They frequently clash, not only in color but also in style, with the rest of your couture, and yet you insist they are “cute.” Your socks are not “cute” or “witty” or whimsical or quirky; they are distracting and desperate. They even look a little depressed, as if trying too long to stay chin up amidst a constant witheringly malodorous environment. This annoyance is only compounded by the fact that your taste is otherwise impeccable.
Yes, I realize I only got to five. If you care so much, write some suggestions in the comments to help me finish this.