On the Wednesday, Felix is feeling more relaxed. He’s over the first hurdle. He puts on his most avuncular face: indulgent but hoping for excellence. “Let’s see how you made out with your curse words,” he says. “Who’s got the consolidated
list?”
“Bent Pencil,” says Shiv.
“And who’s going to read it so we can all hear it?”
“Him,” says Leggs.
“ ’Cause he can pronounce them,” says PPod.
Bent Pencil takes the floor and reads out, gravely and impressively, in his best board-meeting voice: “Born to be hanged. A pox o’your throat. Bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog. Whoreson. Insolent noisemaker. Wide-chapp’d rascal. Malignant thing. Blue-eyed hag. Freckled whelp hag-born. Thou earth.
Thou tortoise. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself. As wicked dew as e’er my mother brushed, With raven’s feather from unwholesome fen, Drop on you both. A south-west blow on ye, And blister you all o’er. Toads, beetles, bats light on you. Filth as thou art. Abhorr’ed slave. The red plague rid you. Hag- seed. All the infections that the sun sucks up, From bogs, fens, flats, fall on— add name here—and make him, By inch-meal a disease. Most scurvy monster.
Most perfidious and drunken monster. Moon-calf. Pied ninny. Scurvy patch. A murrain on you. The devil take your fingers. The dropsy drown this fool. Demi- devil. Thing of darkness.”
“Well done,” says Felix. “That sounds fairly complete. I can’t think of anything you’ve missed. Any questions or comments?”
“I been called worse,” says PPod.
“Why is earth such an insult?” says Leggs.
“Yeah, we live on the earth,” says Red Coyote. “It grows food, right? And
tortoise. That’s like a turtle, right? It’s a sacred thing for some nations. Why is it bad, a turtle?”
“Colonialism,” says 8Handz, who spent a lot of time on the Internet in his former life as a hacker. “Prospero thinks he’s so awesome and superior, he can put down what other people think.”
Multiculturalism at its finest, thinks Felix. He’s anticipated the objection to “earth,” but not the one to “tortoise.” He takes that jump first. “ ‘Tortoise’ just means slowpoke,” he says. “In this play.”
“Like, dragging your ass,” says HotWire helpfully.
“So, I vote we don’t use that one, anyway,” says Red Coyote.
“Your choice,” says Felix. “As for ‘earth,’ it’s the opposite of ‘air,’ here. It’s supposed to mean low-down.”
“I vote we don’t use that one too,” says Red Coyote.
“Again, your choice,” says Felix. “More?”
“I’m putting it on record,” says Red Coyote. “Anyone who calls me tortoise or
earth, just sayin’.”
“Okay, we hear you,” says Leggs.
“I got one,” says Shiv. “One question. Is ‘shit’ a curse word? Can we use it, or what?”
It’s a fine point, thinks Felix. Technically, “shit” might not be considered a curse word as such, only a scatological expression, but he doesn’t want to hear it all the time. Shit this, shitty that, you shit. He could let them vote on it, but what’s the point of being in charge of this motley assemblage if he refuses to take charge? “ ‘Shit’ is off bounds,” he says. “Adjust your cursing accordingly.”
“ ‘Shit’ was okay last year,” says Leggs. “So how come?”
“I changed my mind,” says Felix. “I got tired of it. Too much shit is monotonous, and monotony is anti-Shakespeare. Now, if there are no more questions, let’s do the spelling quiz. No peeking at anyone else’s paper. I can see everyone from here. Ready?”
