Toddlerhood Tribulations

Prompt: Write a story about a character who is certain the world is going to end today.

The Mustard Family episode.

"Jiě, I come bearing important news," Renshu announced, tugging at his split-pants.

"Are you finally ready for adult pants, dìdi?" 

"You're only four minutes older than me."

"And yet I have mastered control of my own bowels. You have no discretion."

Renshu shrugged. "Does discretion matter when the world is ending?"

"Perhaps discretion is not my concern, but incarceration. If you never fix this behaviour, as an adult (should you ever mature to reach that point), you will find the police are far less lenient than to a four-year-old."

Renshu threw his hands in the air, topping backwards as he did so. "I shall never even reach the tender age of five!"

Shuang nodded. "I believe you are right, dìdi. Even four is too much maturity to ask for. At five, your inability to read the newspaper will be social suicide. At least in the rapeseed fields, no one expects intelligence from you."

"The fields!" Renshu attempted to spit. "You would wish me into a life of thankless labour? One where I would work the skin off my bones, the hair from my head, all for a few measly bowls of liángpí in exchange for my labours?"

"I am your sister. Of course I would wish that."

"Authoritarian."

"Libertarian."

"Communist!"

"Anarchist!"

Renshu took the opportunity to squat and relieve himself. "This is what I think about your ideologies."

"In your ideal world, humans would be shitting everywhere and no work would ever be done, is that it? You would have us be no more than cows, chewing cud and contributing to atmospheric pollutions?"

"As if the contribution to atmospheric pollutions matters at a time like this. The earth is ending today, jiě."

"'Shuang staggered backwards, clutching her chest in horror! Almighty! Her prophetic brother hath declared a truth unto all truths!' Is that what you were expecting?"

"From you? Not at all. But perhaps Shenshi might be more reasonable."

Hearing his name from across the field, Shenshi perked up his ears and trotted over, trying his best to halt his tail from wagging. 

Shuang rolled her eyes. "Shenshi is my loyal canine. You have no claims on him."

"Perhaps not yet, but they say crisis brings enemies together."

"And who is 'they'?"

"The government, surely. It would be an excellent way to claim their many crises are positive."

"Share your complaints some more, why don't you?"

"If you insist, jiě. An impoverished nation, no rights for children, and a society built upon millions labouring for a handful to live in luxury."

"I see that sarcasm passes over your head, dìdi."

"Rather, I choose to ignore such base intelligence."

"Base intelligence? Are you discussing Renshu's abilities?" Shenshi's barking laugh alerted the nearby chicken coop, and the hens clucked in protest.

"Renshu has just revealed that the world is ending today, Shenshi." The dog and toddler exchanged a mocking look.

"The end of the world? So libertarians have gained a foothold after all."

"Rue the day!" Shuang sang out, scratching Shenshi behind the ear. Shenshi flicked his ear in an act of annoyance at the affection.

"Amuse me, Renshu. What makes you think today is the end of the world?"

Renshu clasped his small hands in front of him, if only to hide the opening in his split pants. "Humans are known to possess five main sensory abilities. Taste, touch, sight, smell, and hearing. Sharks detect electrical charges. Elephants communicate via vibrations at varying frequencies. Bees sense magnetic fields. And I? I was blessed with the extra sensory ability of foresight."

"If you had foresight, you would work harder now to be rewarded later in life."

"Rewarded with what? Material items? Nourishment? Or—time?"

Shenshi stretched out his front legs, enjoying seeing the siblings quibble. "Humans are the ultimate fools in the world. Dogs find their own food, go wherever they want, sleep whenever they want, and need no clothes."

"Yes," Shuang glanced at his body with distain, "it's most unbecoming. Tell me, Shenshi, do you defecate wherever and whenever you want?"

"Of course not. I'm not an animal." They stared pointedly at Renshu.

Renshu looked down at his legs, wondering if he should upgrade to a pair with a crotch sewn in. "How will you spend your last day?"

"There is nothing to be done, dìdi. Even if today were my last day, I cannot suddenly acquire mass wealth and purchase luxurious, wasteful items, even if I wanted to. I cannot grow old and marry, bearing children to pass on the family name. I cannot create happy memories simply because I want to. What are you planning on doing?"

"I'm going to skip some rocks out by the water instead of watching Bà and Mā in the fields. Want to join, jiě?"

"Hold on," Shenshi protested, placing his paw over Renshu's fat toes, "that sounds absurdly boring. What is something you always wanted to do?"

Renshu frowned at the ground. "Freedom, as a concept, is highly appealing. No taxation, a free trade society, complete autonomy of ourselves. In terms of doing whatever I want, the simple truth is, there is nothing I particularly want to do."

"A life without work is one without purpose or aim."

"You're saying that we work to find fulfillment?"

"We work to keep ourselves busy from wondering about it."

"Then, for our last day on earth, let us wonder about it."

"Very well. Creating communities is what allowed humans to thrive throughout history. Those skilled in certain trades, such as medicine, or food production, are controlled so that all humans may have equal access to these resources. Individualism, or 'freedom', as you would call it, dìdi, is nothing more than disorganization. There must be control of resources, otherwise natural human greed would overwhelm and prevent any from succeeding." 

"Your philosophy depends on the idea that humans are inherently bad. Many small communities thrive on the freedom to work when they want, knowing that there is no punishment from any outside source, simply their own survival at stake."

Shenshi snorted, scratching his ear with his back paw in order to draw their attention. "Shuang is far more the realist, but she neglects the ideology that, because humans are inherently bad, the worst of them will seek power in the highest of places. While it's true that libertarians would withhold their services for gain, in an organized society, those in power tug at their society's strings in a far more effective manner, thus having a larger area of impact. I myself lean more towards democracy, though of course, no system is perfect. Democracy fails in the fact that in its attempt to please everyone, no one is assuredly happy with the system."

Shuang raised an eyebrow at the dog, her scepticism reflected in her younger brother's face. "People should be happiest with the system they were raised under and become used to. Wishing for an unreality helps no one."

"The real problem, my dear, is that humans have malice. Tell me, Renshu, in this premonition of yours, how will the world end? In a cascade of fire or a wisp of smoke? Will humans be instantly vanquished, leaving the rest of Earth to survive? Is this God's act of Great Tribulation?" 

"You mock my talent. Foresight is perhaps, not aptly named, because there is no seeing. It is something I feel resonating in my bones, travelling from neuron to neuron to let the message be known that this is the end. There is no angel whispering in my ear, nor no fiery bush. I do not know how the world ends, only that it ends today."

"Your ability told you the what and when, but not the who or how? It sounds rather like a poor invitation to me."

"Then let me amend that. Shenshi, jiě, I formally invite you to the end of the world, taking place on the riverbed, featuring two toddlers and a pup, occurring at midnight on this fine Thursday."

"I always figured the world would end on a Tuesday," Shenshi quipped.

Shaung clicked her tongue. "If the world were to end all at once, it would go out 'not with a bang but a whimper'."

"T. S. Eliot. A bit of a dour man, don't you think?"

"There are so many poets who use love, or their interpretation of it, as a means of inspiration. Is that moral?"

"Morality is rather dependent upon the person. For instance, I consider Renshu's laziness to be completely deplorable. He, on the other hand—" 

"Find there to be nothing wrong with enjoying my time idly. At least I'm not working myself dull."

Shenshi laughed. "He has a point, dear Shuang."

"Do you think it'll be painful?" Renshu turned his shining eyes towards the pair. "A meteor strike that suffocates us all with gas? A torrent of fire raining down upon the world?"

"If it's fast, then it doesn't matter."

"If my last moment is one of pain then I'd rather sleep during it."

"Why not? That sounds thoroughly satisfactory. The rest of the world is frantic to know how the world will end. The mystery is the fun of it. Let's sleep and never lose that curiosity, even in our death."

"Agreed. But before I die, I want to skip some rocks."

Two four-year-old twins, one a girl, one a boy, and a muddy mutt, together dragging a straw mat, walked barefoot through their Mā and Bà's rapeseed fields to the riverbed, where they planned to sleep through the end of the world. 

My Love,

Your eyes are like the stars:
big burning balls of gas that vanquish
any nearby life--
(with their beauty, of course).
Your voice is like honey
dripping in my ears.
Your skin is wondrous to touch, like...
like that material George Costanza
always wanted to drape himself in.

Your hair is like corn silk:
yellow, with the occasional white streak.
Your body is like an hourglass--
your weight trickles to the bottom.
Your lips taste like green apples
(before they rot, darling).
And you smell like the bouquet of roses
I found in the dumpster behind
our favourite restaurant.

The Mustard Family -- Postcard Stories

Image source: http://www.chilture.com/oil-painting-chinese-children-p-256.html

"Eat your food, dì di, otherwise you'll go hungry tonight. I do not need another evening listening to you lamenting about your unfilled stomach."

"I don't like liángpí, jiě."

"Would you prefer to peck at the straw like the chicks? Do not be foolish."

"You are not my grandmother! Save your wisdom for prayer. Are you going to help mā in the field tomorrow? Surely you want to escape the regime of thankless labour." Renshu peered at his sister through short eyelashes, analyzing her expression.

"You misuse the word 'regime', dì di. Our parents request our help in order to supply us with rations. Without them, we wouldn't survive."

"I must demand atonement—my hands are not dexterous enough to put on my own clothing in the morning, let alone sign forms of consent to form a worker's union. You constantly adhere to the practices of mā and bà, but never use your own skills to demand equitable dividends. You are nothing more than the straw hat affixed to their head if you do not give value to your work."

Shuang laughed, catching a chick and cupping it close to her chest. "Perhaps you should reassess your situation, Renshu. I care enough about my hands to not wish the switch upon them."

"If I must fight for freedom through pain, jiě, I shall. When we age, you shall realize that the greatest pleasures in life came from liberty, not obedience."

"When I am older and carrying a child on each hip, mā and bà shall praise me and provide care and shelter for my children and I. No good comes from cynicism, dì di."

"Let us make a bet, jiě. Should you regret the chains of the back-aching agricultural lifestyle, you will aid me in my quest to overthrow this autocratic dominion."

Shuang set the chick down on her brother, where it proceeded to defecate its fear on his lap.

"Accepted. If not, you are to share the income of the farm when you inherit it, wherein my family and I will be provided for. I expect thirty percent for ownership, twenty percent for manual labour, and will charge interest on late dues. This is, by the way, legally binding."

"And if I do not inherit the farm?"

"You're my slave for a week—no, a month. That includes cleaning my room."

Image source: http://www.chilture.com/child-dog-by-the-river-chinese-oil-painting-p-255.html

Shuang stumbled as she walked, the basket of rapeseed bouncing in her arms. Regaining her posture, she sat next to the dog, searching the distance for whatever was capturing the animal's attention. "What might you be looking at, my friend?"

The dog's ear twitched, but his focus remained on the water.

"Sir, might I request a moment of your time? It is rather rude to ignore someone when they are speaking to you."

The dog sighed and rolled his eyes. "Children. They think everyone in the world owes them something."

Shuang's cheeks flushed red in indignation. "You dare patronize me? I must say, your fluffy coat demonstrates a suckling who is newly parted from its mother!"

The dog growled, "You must be unfamiliar with the aging of dogs. In your human years, I am double your own age."

"Have you been on your own so long that you have forgotten the way of the world? Your deplorable mortality does not change the orbit of the sun, nor the turning of the planet. And," Shuang added, a smug smile lurking at the edge of her lips, "the fish in the water that has so transfixed you is the tetraodontidae, known to you commoners as a pufferfish. You may devour it if you wish to die slowly."

The dog grunted with chagrin, placing one stone-slimed paw into Shuang's hand. "You are cleverer than I had initially thought. You may call me Shenshi."

"Shenshi? A peculiar name, considering you are no gentleman. But, as a lady, I shall forgive your discourtesies. I am Shuang. Would you like a sprig of mustard flowers?"

Hiding the drool gushing from his jaws the best he could, Shenshi flicked his tail dispassionately. "If you desired to rid yourself of a surplus, I would be magnanimous enough to accede."

"Save your gilded words for another time. My father expects me home with the harvest, and I would best not tarry. Unless you wish to accompany me?"

Shenshi's eyes reflected her sequestered elation. He stretched, sharpening his ragged toenails on the rock. "Very well, but simply because I cannot stand another minute near these cold-blooded philistines."

"Excellent. The chickens will make exemplary sleeping companions for you. Perhaps they could even provide an example. After all, they only consume their own ordure five times a day."

The dog barked in distaste. "Ironically, that is an improvement from my former associates—a pair of libertarians."

"The horror! You can join me in abhorring the capitalistic beliefs of my brother, then."

Image source: http://artodyssey1.blogspot.com/2011/01/li-zijian-b.html

"Perhaps your brother is right, Shuang. Your hands bleed on the dry rapeseed stems and your feet erode into stumps on the walk home. With freedom, we would make our own hours."

Shuang pressed her chapped lips together, wincing as she yanked a thorn from her foot. "You have spent but a year with us, and Renshu has already coerced you with his lackadaisical dreams and apocryphal beliefs of organization. If we all lived like Renshu wishes, people would starve from their laziness and humanity would collapse. Jobs must be assigned in order to maintain stability, like an ant colony."

Shenshi licked her foot in an uncharacteristic display of affection, wiping the dirt and blood from her calloused skin. "In the grand scheme of things, I agree that our current governmental system has its benefits. However, Shuang, there is no harm in thinking selfishly. You are not an ant to be quashed under the foot of aristocrats born into a higher status. Your work ethic is commendable and it seems more appropriate for the estate to pass on to you rather than Renshu."

Shuang reached behind her, unwinding a rapeseed flower from the bunch and giving it to Shenshi. "It is not the country's laws that prevent this from occurring, Shenshi, but the infernal patriarchy and traditional expectations. I've matured into a young woman of five and mā and bà have conversed about possible matches in order to pass me off to another family. A shame that after thousands of years of evolution, over half of our species is treated inferiorly. In the Western countries, they claim to have rights for women, due to more equitable wages and fewer gender criteria. However, Westerners are simply experts at hiding the voices of women who feel unsafe walking the streets alone, the overbearing sexualisation and preposterously specific expectations. Mā's generation may have bound their feet in cloth, but today's women do the same in stiletto high heels. They claim we are the weaker sex, and yet it is I who comes home each day with an aching body and basket full of produce, not my brother."

"I cannot explain the asinine nature of humans, my dear Shuang. Perhaps I speak out of place, but my hypersensitive eardrums detect a child coveting the urban life. I would not mind departing for the city—a particularly pungent marmot told me that they have dog cafés there!"

Shuang adjusted the straps of her basket before standing, a grim expression on her face. "They are not the sort of cafés that serve rawhide bones, my friend. You are far safer in the country, boring as it might be."

Image source: http://artodyssey1.blogspot.com/2011/01/li-zijian-b.html

"An entire day wasted," Shenshi grumbled, feet skidding on the river's surface. "Your new brother is a poor work substitute for Renshu—at least that one can last an hour without soiling his underwear. He produces the foulest odours, wails without cause, and thinks my tail is a toy to be played with. Worst of all, he is unable to communicate in any way. Why would your parents produce a non-sentient nitwit if he can't even contribute to the household?"

"He managed to pick some berries," Shuang offered, dubious. "I must concur, I was dismayed when mā and bà announced the conception to Renshu and me. Of course, now I understand that my arms alone cannot take care of the farm when they expire. The advantages are that he is a boy who can inherit the farm. His physical strength will be an asset as well."

"I shall not let you forget the multifarious disadvantages, my dear. He is a boy, true, and able to inherit the farm—your rightful farm, might I add. But he is still a pup, and will be useless until at least two years of age. The first has already been a headache. He ought to have been in your mother's care rather than yours. This arrangement of yours makes me somewhat cantankerous, I confess. In times like these, I converse with Renshu."

"Rue the day Shenshi allows himself to be seen to speaking with the common rabble!" Shuang laughed, legs shaking as she attempted to steady herself on the rocks.

"You jest, indubitably. If the hare living beneath the hay caught glimpse of me expending my time on a democrat, the calumny would be irrepressible!" Shenshi peered at the baby from the corner of his eye. "We shall raise him communist, I expect? Unless you prefer to have someone to share repartees."

The baby grabbed a fistful of Shuang's hair, tugging the pigtails as though they were reins on a horse. Shuang gently unwound his fingers and pulled him around to her hip, bouncing him with the last strength her arms could offer. "This one might grow into a simpleton, but it is up to the loyal simpletons to bring power to the astute. Now, let us journey forth before I wither where I stand."

Image source: http://artodyssey1.blogspot.com/2011/01/li-zijian-b.html

"I am pleased that you finally understand the value of hard work, dì di. What is your motivation—the clarity of communism or the impending threat of our brother?"

Renshu rested his head on his sister's leg, tired from a rare day of work. "Neither. Mā and bà have promised the land to our brother. He is three years old, unfamiliar with our sociopolitical situation and can't string together a complete sentence. Of course our parents would choose the family dimwit. Even Shenshi would be better suited to run an estate."

"A pity, true, because I have fufilled my end of our bet."

"Might you refresh my memory of this supposed deal, jiě?"

"When we were three, you claimed that I would become fed up with our governmental system and rebel against our parents. To this day, I can attest to my devotion to the farm."

"Yes, I recall that now. It's unfortunate that I cannot fufill my end of our arrangement. In order to satisfy the requirement, I propose that, in two years time, we overthrow the bureaucracy of our parents and claim the farm for our own. You can manage the finances and labour, I will communicate with the supply companies, Shenshi can help with planning the harvest and our brother can use his friendly demeanour to attract potential clients. What say you, jiě?"

Shuang sighed, twiddling the rapeseed in her hands. "I can only blame myself for your fanciful ideas, dì di. After all, what sister would allow her brother to propose a plan without details? There are labourers on the farm, legal loopholes, and conformists to deal with."

"No need to worry. You may have observed Shenshi and I conversing in increasing frequency over the years. We have been concocting a foolproof scheme, agonising over each if and but until we've ironed the plan to perfection. Shuang, we have been connected from our conception in utero to this moment, eight years later. You must trust me. The plan will suceed, but not without your help. I will ask you once more, jiě jie—will you help Shenshi and I in our coup d'état?"

Shuang took a steadying breath, tearing soft rapeseed petals away from their stem. A moment passed and perspiration dotted Renshu's caramel skin. Shuang dropped the rapeseed into the stream, watching her hard work float away. "Very well. But only on the condition that you identify as socialist and not liberal, or—curse my lips for even uttering it—conservative. Regarding my managemental position, I'd prefer to have more power. I'll relocate into the city, start our own business and make more profit by selling our supplies directly—are you listening?"

Renshu was standing, apparent giddiness plastered across his face. He gave her an awkward, unreturned hug. "You want all that power? And you call yourself a communist."

How to Get Away with Murder (Not to be Confused with the Television Show)

2015 Satire Media Assignment, text below.

    Studying the murder mystery genre has taught me a lot about the careful planning that must accompany murder. Too many pathetic attempts have caused me to shake my head at the murderers’ folly. Thus, I have created scrupulous solutions to the common problems murderers face.

     Before I continue, I must warn that this guide is not for the weak minded. It is written so that a person of any position, no matter their gender, age, race, etcetera, can carry out such a wearisome task, but I cannot guarantee that my plans are foolproof. Nay, I am not so bolstered by my ideas to claim that a feeble-brained individual might have the creative sense and quick-mindedness that is mandatory to the careful crafting of a murder. Murder is not merely a skill that can be perfected, but an art, a talent! Some are born with the ability to kill, however, most are not. Luckily for you, my fiendish followers, I was born with a silver dagger in my chubby infant hand, prepped from my early days of proximity to the mafia to kill without leaving a trace.

     First off, no gore. Bloody deaths are too complicated—the weapon, the evidence, the mess, but most importantly, it is entirely unsophisticated. Only temperamental brutes resort to such last minute ploys. What are the alternatives? Let us explore the options. Poisons are a popular choice. Drugs also work, and if the victim already takes medicine, faking a suicide is relatively easy. However, don’t depend on that to save your skin—the victims’ friends might claim that this situation is unlikely, if not impossible. You may be able to collect sufficient information on them to be certain that suicide is believable (see my article “How to Stalk Someone without Being Noticed”), but when in doubt, revert to the following methods.

     Arson seems like an easy option—just light a match and all your evidence is destroyed, right? Unfortunately, it’s not that easy. Witnesses abound—a rebellious teenage couple in the bushes, a dog walker contemplating whether they should clean up the poop, or even a drunk guest taking a wee out back. Escaping from fires is also relatively easy, unless you were to douse the entire house in gasoline before lighting the match (and I won’t even get into the logistics of hiding that evidence).

     Now, now, I’m not a Negative Nelly. I do have solutions to every problem that arises! Police officers must think like a criminal in order to catch a criminal. Reversely, we must think like policemen in order to escape them. What are your motives for the crime? Examine them. Dismiss ideas of revenge prematurely—it may taste sweet when it has been achieved, but such a taste will turn bitter in jail. Let us use money as a motive—it is common, understandable. Murdering someone unrelated to you is a relatively simple process, but the real challenge is killing a family member—and that is where we begin our work.

     Gaining information is the key to performing a clean murder. Pretend that the police have every intention of proving your guilt. What is the key to proving innocence? An alibi. “Oh, but my wise and all knowing murderess,” you may be thinking, “how can I be in two places at once?” Unless you have an identical twin, doppelganger, a clone, or a hologram, you cannot. Assuming that you haven’t any friends that would risk lying for you, the next best solution is to create a daily routine that you do not stray from. If you were, to say, live-stream yourself baking for a few months, then on the day of the murder, upload a video under the pretence of live-streaming, it could create a brief alibi. Eyewitnesses have excellent testimonies, however, and the police will doubt the stability of your alibi. In that case, remember the mantra, “Innocent until proven guilty!”

     This brings me to my final and crucial point. Hiding, destroying, or simply not having evidence in the first place. Where are you going to get your weapon of choice, my dear friend? Let us return to poison—nowadays, you can’t just pop over to the local drugstore, buy a vial of cyanide and be on your way. Back in my grandmother’s days, the simple excuse of needing rat poison was enough to land a dosage large enough to off a full grown man. Assuming that you’re no chemist, the best solution is to buy a bottle of Tylenol—extra strength if possible. To avoid being tracked on video footage, drive far out of town, park your car at least ten minutes away and walk to the local store. Wear a hoodie, sunglasses, and makeup. It doesn’t matter if you’re male or female—in fact, if you’re male, stuff a bra and raise the pitch of your voice (there are plenty of tutorials online).

     Use cash, throw out the receipt inside the store, and make your way back home with your untraceable bottle of painkillers (don’t worry, it’ll kill more than a migraine in the right amount). Take the capsules and empty all the powder into a bowl or bag. Helpful tip: Pretend you’re doing arts and crafts! The time will simply fly by.

     Now comes the difficult part. Remember what I told you about being a creative person? What’s the plan now? Put it in a bottle of wine, reseal it and deliver it as a present? In that case, you’ll have to buy more Tylenol due to dilution. Or would you prefer to deliver it in food? Tylenol affects the liver, so my personal recommendation is in the form of liquor. But watch out! The victim may vomit, thus reducing the effect of the medicine. Hopefully, your prey will wish to nurse their hangover with some Advil the next day. A funky liver and thin blood? Sounds like a winning combination.

     “But my heavenly goddess, how can I give them the wine? What if they get cured in the ER?” Whoa there, cowboy! Do I really have to hold your hand in terms of killing someone? Haven’t you matured enough to think of your own ideas? Oh, don’t make that face, I’m only joking. Sort of. If the victim does not live alone, find a way to get the family to leave, or to draw the victim out. Do they enjoy partying? What if they don’t drink alcohol? I’ve taken you far enough on this journey so that you can take some pride in planning your own sensational murder, personalized to suit your victim. I know, it’s scary. But you must trust what you’ve learnt. We’ve gone through this journey together and I’ll miss you. When I pick up my newspaper in the morning, a fresh cup of hot cocoa pressed to my lips, I’ll smile and think of you when the headline tells me that someone was murdered, with no suspects.

     If you enjoyed my article, share it with your friends and family on social media. If you found it useful, give it a like. If you used any of the techniques in my article, please drop me an email at catchmeifyoucan@excop.org. Keep an eye out for my next article, “Body Disposal and other Gardening Tips.”