Heir to the Loan
POINT: You Are Not Snow White
Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I practice the tradition of frolicking through Eucalyptus Grove and serenading my entourage of forest creatures. But last week, interrupting my flawless explanation of introductory HTML, the little birdies told me that they didn’t want my wisdom anymore. They were already fluent in Python and Swift, see. Plus, they found someone much more exciting to follow: you. I figured you’d get over your phase soon enough, but then you issued that public statement. You think it’s funny, singing to animals? Your head doesn’t hold the hardware to even consider that you’re appropriating my culture. Because you’re not Snow White. I’m Snow White.
You don’t know the struggle of being the prettiest little princess like I do. Underneath my computer science uniform of an unassuming wrinkled gray hoodie, I am constantly hiding luxurious jet-black locks that highlight my alabaster skin. That’s right, I’m not pale because I haven’t seen the sun in 72 hours. I’m actually drop-dead gorgeous! But alas, I cannot share my true colors with this cruel world. It’s all part of the deal, of course, but you wouldn’t know that, not unless you have a copy of the princess training guidebook. Unit 4: “Balancing Noble Self-Sacrifice and Being the Damsel in Distress to a Muscly Hunk.” As long as I keep pining in between the integrals and the coding labs and those seven midterms and the technological singularity, someday my prince will come to carry me (firefighter style!) onto my shining throne, while my daddy runs the startup — I mean kingdom.
Cherish this warning, measly peon. You’re one shrike away from retribution. I would go make you beg on your knees for my mercy, but my doctor keeps badgering me about some anemia thing. You are spared, indebted to my honor and glory!
Pitiful mote.
Lord Help My Poor Soul
Listen. Hoo boy. I won’t even bring up my last name, deal? I never wanted any beef — sorry — trouble, to begin with. I love animals just as much as the next guy, promise! That Tumblr post I made about this situation, telling my tale to heart? I swear it was for the birds. Just a personal December vent, while I was pondering beaks, eyes bleary.
See, I study best at my chamber dorm, but someone’s always napping there: my roommate, Lenore. Buried by her velvet cushions, she begins to snore, so the balcony is where I think out loud, nothing more.
That’s when the ravens perch around the concrete floor. Rapping, rapping, around my chamber dorm. Literally! I thought I had drunk a whole cask of Amontillado when I learned they could talk. You’ve trained them well, your highness, because they were actually quite helpful when I was stuck on my biology homework. Though, that unit we were charting the cladograms of avians… Since moving on, your birds began playing this game where they’ll pick a word to repeat, over and over and over again. I can’t figure it out. These nights, they won’t shut up about Taylor Swift. Evermore. Evermore. Wherefore?!
I’m sorry my language was an unmerciful disaster; you shouldn’t have gotten hurt by your own interpretation. But indeed, I am the most unhappy master of these minions right now. Please take them back! If you’re convinced by your whole vampire-princess-diary getup, then yes, that dulcet soprano of yours is just what I need to cast these ravens from my chamber dorm! I’ll even treat you to dinner afterwards. A royal such as yourself must try Revelle sushi. It says on Wikipedia that the princess-animal symbiosis has a hard cutoff at aquatic life, so, go fish?
