Literary Puns - A Sincere Apology

Dear Gwyneth,

I apologize for insisting we name our
boys Edward and James.

They were doomed since birth to fight
and eventually for Edward to kill our James.

We probably should have just been less conspicuous and
named them Cain and Abel.

I now regret reading Twilight. Just for the record, I also blame
Stephanie Meyer for pitting two great names against each other.

If we ever have twin girls, let's vow to never
name them Bella and Victoria.

Or Hermione and Pansy, for that matter.

Love Always,
Megan

Matrix Piece

Devon Nixon sat staring at his unusually blank canvas. He wanted to paint, so badly, but at the same time, he loathed the idea of painting. Nothing can compare to that angelic portrait of Rochelle he painted for her, had given to her, had seen the way her eyes blazed like fireflies on a soft summer night, and had fallen in love with her an infinity times over again in those two or three seconds.

How she had broken up with him only five days, three hours, and twenty-one minutes later.

Devon sighed and turned away from the snow-blizzard white canvas and flopped over onto his bed miserably.

He didn’t know his mother, Emily, was watching him from his doorway. The middle-aged woman looked young for having a late teen aged son, something she was proud of. After all, not everyone aged as well as the Nixon’s.

But today, her usually over-confident, fanatical self was in a slump. Her only son, everything she loved and cherished beyond words, was hurting.

“Oh, my poor Desolate-Devi… There’s got to be something we can do, Keith.” Emily declared to her husband later that night, as she was getting ready for bed. Keith turned a page in the book he was reading.

“Give him time, Emily. He’ll be fine soon.” Her considerably more reasonable husband said patiently.

“How can you say that about our son? Obviously he’s hurting! And the only way to solve this is to win that Rochelle girl’s heart back for him.” Emily argued passionately, though she looked forlorn. “I don’t like that… I can’t even call her a girl, she’s not worthy of such a title! But Devi loves her; so therefore, I’ll have to sacrifice myself for the greater good: for what’s best for Devi!” Keith closed his eyes for a bit longer than a standard blink, and then opened them to continue reading silently, for Keith had long since learned the best way to respond to Emily’s wild schemes was to ignore them and avoid getting involved.

“Don’t be like that, Keith! You want our little Devi to be happy too!” Emily pouted as she crawled into bed beside him and rested her head against her husband’s chest.

“Of course I do, but-“

“So you’ll help me?” Emily cut over him excitedly, “oh, Keith!” She pressed her lips against his without waiting for his answer before bouncing off to the bathroom. Keith sat dumbfounded for a moment, trying to figure out how Emily had managed to include him in her scheme, despite his best effort.

X x X

The next morning, Emily was humming cheerily as she made a feast of a breakfast. Every kind of egg she could think of to make; sunny-side up, scrambled, poached, hard-boiled, omelets, over-easy, eggs benedict; and more than just eggs: waffles, pancakes, sausage, bacon, toast, hash browns, bagels, quiche and various other dishes the men of the house weren’t so sure of.

“How long has she been awake?” Daryl, Emily’s father and Devon’s grandfather, asked in amazement from where he sat at the dining table.

“I don’t know.” Keith answered with nonchalance as he read the morning’s paper.

“Hours, at the very least; maybe she didn’t go to bed at all.” Daryl said, watching his daughter dance to and fro in the kitchen.

“She did,” Keith answered. “I just don’t know for how long.”

“All right, gentlemen,” Emily called from the kitchen. “Today we start Operation: Rochelle Takedown!”

“Don’t you mean ‘Take Back’’?” Keith offered, folding the paper having finished with it.

“Same thing-“

“No it’s not…” Daryl and Keith muttered at the same time. Emily continued to talk as though she hadn’t heard anything.

“The plan is simple! We must lure Rochelle and Devon together. Once in confrontation with my handsome little Devi, Rochelle won’t be able to say no to him! It’ll be love at first sight all over again!”

“Emily, the best way for Dev-“

“Sh, sh, sh! He’s coming!” Emily waved her hand. A moment later, a bleary-eyed Devon walked in.

“Devi-boy! Good morning!” Emily sang happily.

“Morning,” Devon replied, shuffling over to sit beside his father and grandfather. “What’s the occasion?” He asked, eyeing the food. Emily laughed as she flitted over with a heaping dish of food, setting it before her son.

“I need a reason to make all of my son’s favorite breakfast foods for him?”

“No…” Devon said slowly, picking up his fork. Emily laughed and danced back to the kitchen. Devon looked between his father and grandfather suspiciously. They both shrugged and avoided answering.

“This isn’t even all my favorite food. She just made everything she could think of, hoping something would be right…” Devon muttered and started eating. He hoped his mother wouldn’t make him eat everything.

X x X

His mother had shamed him into eating everything. Over an hour later, Devon was full to bursting. He managed to escape the table and went up to his room to change. No school today, he thought with bitter satisfaction. No chance for Rochelle to ignore me.

“Devon!” Emily sang up the stairs to him.

“Yeah?” Devon called back.

“Will you go run some errands for me?”

“Yeah,” Devon slipped into a pair of jeans (he swore the waistband wasn’t this tight the last time he wore them) and clamored downstairs again. Emily was waiting for him with a small wad of cash and a list.

“Just some groceries,” Emily said. Of course Emily would have used all the groceries for making the breakfast.

“Okay,” Devon said, glancing over the list. “Just from the Farmer’s Market?”

“Yeah. Best fresh produce there.” Emily replied.

“Okay.”

“Now honey,” Emily said when Devon didn’t move for a few seconds.
“Right, okay.” Devon said and moved towards the door, grabbing his favorite hat from the coat rack on his way out.

Outside was fresh; the sun was warm, a light breeze caressed the front lawn, and a soft smile played at Devon’s lips. Walking outside was a refreshing alternative to his stuffy, acrylic-smelling bedroom. His mind was clear for the first time in weeks; definitely the first time since Rochelle…

He shook his head. He wasn’t going to let storm clouds rain on this day.

The Farmer’s Market was busy. All around him vendors were shouting their wares; people were hustling by, arms laden with groceries. There was a chaotic grace, like a wild dance, to the way the crowd moved. Like they were stepping in time with the beat of some drum Devon couldn’t hear.

He took a step into the market and was immediately swept away into the frenzied zoo. Devon barely had room or time to breathe; and by the time he got to the front of a stand selling carrots, potatoes and radishes, he began to regret telling his mom he would shop for her. There were too many people bumping, shoving, charging, and tossing poor, little Devon around like a rag doll. He clutched his bags of groceries to his chest as he forced his way towards the last item on his mother’s list: a bouquet of flowers. Once the flowers were in hand and the money paid, Devon rushed towards the nearest exit where he was finally able to escape the mad mob and sit down for a little bit.

He had escaped into the park, an open, leisurely place to be; Devon’s favorite place to think. There were several paths all leading to the huge fountain in the middle of the park, like a model-sized Rome. Devon could sit on the western side of the fountain and face the Pacific Ocean. Sometimes, if the season was just right, he would see whales out in the water.

Devon set his bags of groceries on the ground and slumped onto the lip of the fountain. The fountain’s residents, perfect statuesque angels, looked out at the ocean with him, their arms arched gracefully, as if to embrace the world. Devon wondered briefly what their names were and why they were so optimistic.

“Though, I suppose if I were allowed to look out at this beautiful ocean all the time, I’d be happy too.” He said to no one. He sighed and closed his eyes, wishing, just this once, something truly astonishing could happen.

Behind him, grass and leaves hissed with a coming breeze, faster and stronger than Devon expected and suddenly his hat was up in the air. Devon’s eyes snapped open and he jumped up, watching his hat with alarm. It landed on the other side of the safety rail on a dry tree root. It dangled there, tauntingly, and Devon frowned with dismay.

“This could only happen to me.” He muttered and moved towards the tricky hat.

X x X

Note: This is still unfinished