Attention
Nicholas had actually met quite a few people who were "inanimately oriented." There was one in high school named JJ, whose backpack was decorated with beads and neon pins that said things like "I am God," and other sorts of one-liners that were intended to inspire outrage and shock. JJ wanted people to wonder about him. His first year in college, Nicholas lived down the hall from a guy named Whitey, whose liking was kitchen appliances mostly. Everybody on the hall knew about it. Some made jokes about him behind his back. He was the token "inanimater" of the hall, as Big Bill had said once.
Whitey was a very nice person. He was short, pale, often unshaven. He talked with a tinge of southern accent, the slight drawl that seemed popular among suburban high school cheerleaders.
At first, Nicholas just thought that Whitey was the kind of person that did his own thing no matter what people thought of him. He refused to believe that Whitey was romantically attracted inanimate objects. As the first semester wound on, he began to pick up on little hints in his speech that seemed to suggest it. Finally, Nicholas acquiesced to the popular belief about Whitey, accepting the truth.
Nicholas didn't hate Whitey because there was nothing about him to hate.
It was "National Opening Up Day." Campus organizations of people who loved inanimate objects hosted an informal set-up outside the student center with free food, jugglers, hand-drawn signs, fold-up chairs and tables, the works. Students who walked by could see it. And many students walked by just because the student center was located exactly there-the center of campus. Or at least, the center of campus life. Nicholas was walking back from class to his dorm. Walking down the stairs, eavesdropping on a pair of people discussing predestination of sorts, he noticed the setup.
Annie was outside it juggling. He didn't know if she'd remember him. She was a short girl who was very nice. Nicholas had only met her the night before when he, some friends of his, and Annie went to the student center to watch a movie. Nicholas decided not to say anything to her. He thought she might be representing the juggling club or something. He knew there was one, but all in all the juggling club was an enigma.
Nicholas just went home. It wasn't until later that he found out it was "National Opening Up Day" and that's what the student center ruckus was all about. He heard from a friend that Annie was not a lover of inanimate objects, but did in fact support their rights. They were a minority, of course, and deserved to be considered an alternative race of people, since of course sexual attraction to refrigerators was genetic. There was scientific proof.
"Opening Up" was a sort of trendy cliché. It referred to the time when a person opened up their refrigerator and realized then and there that they were in love. The general realization on the rise was that the opposite sex was not the only thing a person was destined to love. Refrigerators were not the only kind of inanimate objects that inanimaters loved, but they were easily the most common. Appliances were loved for their dutiful sense of responsibility, and self-sacrificial personalities.
The Inanimate Lovers Coalition held that it was not a trend, however, and that important personages all throughout history had been inanimaters, or heterosubstantivists, as modern political correctness required. Current research had deduced that Ivan the Terrible was a "hetero"-in love with the cudgel with which he had killed his son. Thomas Edison not only created but fell madly in love with the first light bulb. Love letters found in one of the Africa-based Panzers proved that the war vehicle had kept an ongoing, and forbidden correspondence with Prime Minister Winston Churchill throughout the war years. Apparently, the tank considered detonating its own ammunition in a suicide attempt when finding out that Churchill had taken interest in a younger model with bigger treads.
Religious organizations were intolerant because they considered a sexual act with an inanimate object sinful and deviant. Most closed minded of all were the Southern Baptists. They did not allow these "heteros" or their inanimate lovers to be ordained. (Heteros denounced the faith in order to try and attain this hated position.) They also voiced their opinion, which was unacceptable in such a modern day of free speech.
"My mom is a hetero," said Dirk. "You knew that, right?"
"No, I didn't." It was the first Nicholas had heard.
"Yeah, she's been dating a copper wire named Guy for seven months now. They're talking about tying the knot. Guy had just gotten over a bad breakup with a lightning rod."
Nicholas wondered if it was tough growing up in a home like that. He also wondered if Dirk would end up the same way.
"Nah. I have a mission in this world and it is to make Carrie McDouglas my wife." Carrie McDouglas was a girl from school. Dirk was crazy about her because he was obsessed with Anna Kournikova. Carrie looked just like Kournikova, and it drove Dirk wild. She even played tennis. Not incredible tennis, but better than Dirk.
"I could never play tennis," said Dirk. "It's just not a man-sport, you know?"
Nicholas would regret asking his friend why he assigned genders to sports. "Well, don't expect a Freudian analysis out of me, but take football for instance. People putting on body armor and bashing head-on into each other. That's masculine. Tennis is just trying to put a bouncy ball where the opponent won't expect it. That's feminine. There's no violence, no body armor, no kicking up fake turf. It's like this, dude. Hopscotch-would you be caught dead playing it in public?"
Nicholas had never thought about it. "It does seem like a pointless game."
"Right. Jump rope-would you want chicks to walk by and see you jumping rope between two little schoolgirls chanting something about Cinderella kissing a fella?"
"Don't see myself ever having a reason to chant about Cinderella."
"You know what I mean. Anyway, I can't believe I get to be so close to Anna Kournikova-I walk past her twice during school hours in the halls."
"It's not really Anna Kournikova."
"That's beside the point-it's close enough."
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Log:
Before you leap precariously to any conclusions from this writing, I am not a bigot, and I don't hate people. Got it? Good, you may proceed.
However, if you answered no to the question, and you don't appreciate biting (and yes, angry) satire, IM: stubzero or e-mail: stubzero@juno.com. You'll find me startlingly reasonable.
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