Shomething About Namesh

“I made thish promish long ago: that never would I don a falsh name, a falsh identity, or a falsh appearanshe.  That if men shaw me, they would shee me for who I am, whatever pain or hardship that would entail.  And if you believe that I will recant this vow for shomething as petty ash unneeded material gain, then I musht apologize, but your belief is wrong.”

“Oh for gods’ sake, what is so damn important about your stupid face?!” his partner screams, slamming his fist against the table so hard every plate on it momentarily escapes the clutches of gravity.  “When are you gonna grow up and realize this is the real world, and people hate your face in the real world?  Here’s a face for you:  face facts.  People are racist.  They’re close-minded.  They’re not going to give you the time of day, and if they do it’s to boot your skinny hide across the street to see how far you can fly.  We are talking about the easiest cash you will ever bumble across in your life, and we’re stealing it from criminals to boot.  All you have to do is put on the damn mask and act like you belong for ten minutes; you’re not even doing the talking!”

K.D.  massages the rib of his nose, no stranger to those that have called his philosophy foolish.  He does his best to look his partner and the “business associate” squarely in the eye, no small task considering their height, and his lack thereof.

“One day,” he replies calmly, “one day you may walk into a land where everyone you meet shtandsh above you by default, not through anything you have done or have not done, but becaush of shome law the universh shet in plashe when it wash formed.  If on that day you remember me, and remember what I musht endure on every day, I hope that you’ll remember it when I shay I value the worth of a name above a fashe.  My fashe is lessh than worthlessh to me, and sho all I have ish my name.  But a name ish only worth shomething if that which you do ish attached to it.  Men are beginning to know me now for what I have done before ever they shet eyesh on me, and thish only becaush I have attached my name to everything, everything I do, no matter how inshignificant.  I cannot shape what men may remember my name after I am gone, but they will not remember it if I do not tell them.”

The partner just stares blankly; no matter how long the pair of them have been together, he has still not gotten used to his frequent, and often tiresome, proselytizations, many of which he feels have no ultimate point other than to hear himself talk.

“And exactly what does any of the have to do with blending in for ten bloody minutes?” he asks with audible ire.


{Just another something or other}


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