Subject: Nasty Saviars
Date: 10 Oct 1998 00:00:00 GMT
From: firstname.lastname@example.org (Mumthra)
Organization: MotPU: Where Binary Moodswings are ALWAYS on the Menu
Spunky's been a little twitchy for the last two days. I had embraced
the hypothesis that she was getting thin-skinned because a virus was
working on stealing her voice. She's not progressing into real
laryngitis, but has developed a huskiness that goes beyond the usual
scream damage of the average day.
The other probable cause for her skittishness is our wee neighbor,
Dirk. Dirk has been downright creepy lately, and he even attacked both
Sparky and Spunky recently. I think Kindergarten has not been a kind,
gardenly experience for Dirk, but whatever is bugging HIM, it has
caused a bloom in his asshole impulses. The incident of greatest Dirk
infamy is still fresh in her mind, I'm sure.
Sparky took the brunt of the abuse when she tried to retrieve one of
her toys by putting her arm through a hole in his backyard fence. Dirk
kicked her and dragged her away by her hair yelling, "Get offa my
property!" Spunky dove into the fight and suffered lesser humiliation,
but the whole sobbing aftermath was bad enough that I promptly found
myself having a chat with Dirk and his mother through their screen
I explained the situation to her and when Dirk denied it, I pointed
out that twelve other kids were lining up to tell me what they'd seen.
"Why would they say that?" I asked him. Dirk made noncommittal noises
and studied his handful of cheerios. "They would say that because you
DID hurt the girls," I said. "If you have a problem with them, you
talk to me or your mom." He goggled at me. "Get a grownup. You are not
the police, you know." He smiled his demented smile. I left confident
that Dirk would be getting a man-to-man chat about hitting girls when
daddy got home.
Yesterday, Sparky volunteered a crucial clue in the case of Spunky's
funk: Spunky has become afraid of one of their Raffi tapes. Now Raffi
is the most un-scary character in midget entertainment, and I hope
fervently that he won't ever get arrested in a brothel or
somethinglikethat that would cause the market for his goofy kid tunes
to evaporate in undeserved PeeWeeny disgrace. It is inconceivable that
anyone would be afraid of a Raffi song. Raffi is all wholesome humor,
even when he plays the kazoo.
Sparky described the problem. "She's afraid of part of the song about
Joshua Giraffe, something about nasty somethings. When I tell her I'm
going to play that song, she gets so scared she cries!"
"I'll ask her about it. Try not to torture her with it, okay?"
"I'll TRY," she promised.
At home, I asked Spunky about the scary song. To my surprise, she
insisted that I hear it. We found the tape and wound to the correct
snippet in which Raffi said, "...then he was chased by Nasty Saviars!"
This was followed by sound effects of a manic monkey mob. Spunky's
eyes were wide. She shuddered.
"What's a Nasty Saviar?" I asked.
"I dunno, but they're really mean," she said, "I never saw one, so I
don't know what they look like." She denied that they were anything so
ordinary as monkeys. She wasn't buying my suggestion that they might
not be mean, but rather are called nasty because they are so dirty.
She said, "Maybe Dirk is a Nasty Saviar!"
"He's not that scary," I said, "and he's not any bigger than you are."
"You don't have to be afraid of Dirk," said The Rev. He showed her
where to hit Dirk if she ever needed to knock the wind out of him. She
digested this for a few moments. Hitting Dirk had a lot of appeal for
"Maybe he doesn't look like a Nasty Saviar, but that's because I don't
know what they look like! He might be a Nasty Saviar that's wearing a
I was delighted, but I thought that this might be a dangerous
speculation to support--dangerous to Dirk. "His family would know if
he was a Nasty Saviar. The rest of his family is very nice."
She wasn't swayed. "Maybe they're Nasty Saviars too, only they're Nice
Nasty Saviars, but he's only Nasty!"
Poor Dirk. He doesn't even know he's been exposed. We've long
suspected that his ears are miniature radar dishes, but we had no idea
that he'd been replaced by a closet monster. No wonder he's having
such a bad time with Kindergarten. I'd bet that none of the other kids
are savvy to Saviars.
Emancipate a comma! Evict mental ergonomics!