The Cornelius Story

As part of the Stories and other things I am ashamed of.

                                       5/4/2010

Once upon a time...

(All good stories start like this)

     There was a little boy by the name of Alex. Little Alex, they called him.

And little he was, sitting in his third grade classroom. He liked school. He learned things and had many friends, and was even sad when it was time to go home. One afternoon, after school, after his chores, he learned that the neighborhood boys were playing a game of baseball in a fellow neighbor's yard. Little Alex liked baseball.

     So he went, one foot after another, onwards to the fellow neighbor’s yard. The sun was shining; some three or four clusters of birds were seldom moving, but constantly chirping. An ant carried a bread crumb back to his hill. The hill little Alex stepped over as he entered the yard.

     It’s his turn to bat, and he grips it with force. The pitcher is a burly kid, a good four years older than the rest. He knuckles the ball in his palms and unwinds, preparing to throw. Caught unawares, little Alex swings and hits a grand slam, well... not really. This is only what he visualized what would happen, and the exact opposite of what happened when he came back into consciousness. It happened more like this. There was no swing, no sweet spot that rang when there was contact. Alex squinted, the burly kid let go, and little Alex was hit in the eye with the baseball. He staggered for a bit, and then met his temporary end by running headfirst into a tree.

     When he finally came into consciousness he was not in the neighbor’s yard but lying on the couch at home. His mother had seeped a wet towel on his forehead, but mostly on his eyes. He could hear a woman speaking,

"I don't know how long it will last, but with such an impact at such a speed, there’s no question it will be a long time." Alex opens his eyes and tries to make sense. It is his house, his living room in fact, but things are eternally different. Not two feet but four, not one doorway but two. Alex takes the wrong doorway, and gives the wall a nice thump.

"Alex has double vision now?" he could hear his mother talking.
Disbelief in her voice.

"I'm afraid so" the woman responds.

When Alex thought his third grade king of the world raging-parties-till 7:30 pm-life was over at that point he was definitely mistaken. The bulky glasses, more than an inch trick would be the straw to do the trick. Even worse, prismed! Alex hated his life, but he soon realized that in third grade almost everybody had glasses, an insight that had not previously occurred to him.

* * *

     They are riding in a car. It’s a road trip. Onwards to Totya Ira's house (Aunt Irina); Blurring past familiar roads, but alas roads that they have not driven on for more than a year. A familiar tune blares from the stereo.

"Nanananana Hey! Nanananaa Hey!" It was the cassette tape they had listened to front side and back all the way to California some years before and then all the way on the road back. Alex didn’t know how many times he had listened to it; all he knew is that he had them memorized so whenever it played he inadvertently followed with his lips.

     They are there, at Totya Ira's house, just pulling up. Tacoma has never been rainier. His cousins run out to greet him. Vlad, who is just a few years younger, is most excited. He was breathless about his new Mortal Kombat game over the phone the night before. And then there was Mark, even a few years younger than Vlad with a full head of curly hairs that bounced when you petted them.

And then finally Totya Ira's. They all rush out, and then stop and approach with caution.

"Woah," she says. And then laughter!

"AHAHAHAHHAA"

"Why, he looks exactly like Professor Pipkin" she says. Who Professor Pipkin was, little Alex though a year older now, wizened no doubt, didn't know. Later he would learn that Professor Pipkin was some Russian sitcom character that the people of old Russia loved, cheered, and that some had even grown to hate. He instantly flushed crimson, still somewhat unused to the attention his thick glasses brought him, and then commanded everyone to stop. Still they continued.

"Especially when he's angry like that! Haha! do you remember that one episode..." Alex didn't want to hear any of this so he ran up the steps to their door and dropped his bag on the floor as he threw off his shoes.

"Oh cmon," they followed.

"We were just kidding," they try to conceal their smiles.

"Really, the glasses make you look smart. You really should take it as a 
           compliment."

If Alex was upset then, he showed it. They persisted and he continued to get mad with every mention of Professor Pipkin, and that is what drove them to continue. That and the laughter it induced to much of Alex's discontent. Well that weekend passed quickly, like many other weekends before, but Professor Pipkin did not die altogether. Alex even insisted on taking his glasses off  just to show that he wouldn’t take it anymore more.

"Aww whats wrong," his brother chimed. Older and no doubt stronger, but even deadlier with his words--More tactical.

"Oh cmon Pipkin!

"Ahaha did you hear that? Pipkin! It has a nice ring to it."

Alex blushed, the whole car (all seven people) cheered.

* * *

Pipkin, pipkin, pipkin, Pippy Long Stalkings?

      "Now where did that come from?" little Alex thought. It must have been the time when Alex's brothers blackmailed him to clean their messy closet and he refused. They were on the verge of telling their mom the secret, and this brought him to tears.

"Don't tell her, don't tell her!" he wailed.

"Aww cmon, Pippy Long Stalkings! What’s the matter, huh? We haven’t told her yet, but if you don’t clean the closet you will be darn sure that we will."

Afterwards, Pippy Longstalkings caught on, perhaps more than Professor Pipkin had wanted, and soon it became the new norm. From that point on, it seemed like no nickname was unfitting, none were too harsh. Some days he was Pipkin, some days he was pip. Once he was Squasha, but that’s another story for another time. On this particular day he was Pop. Yes much different from Professor Pipkin, or Squasha, but not totally different. After all, Pop did sound a lot like Pip and to the two older brothers that was enough.

     He would be Pip, Pop, Pipkin Sqausha, Pippy, Pippy Long stalkings, and then Pop once more...And then out of nowhere:

Well… not totally out of nowhere. It would seem that the same boys capable of turning Pip to Pop, and Pop to Squasha were intelligible enough to turn Pop into Popcorn.

     Popcorn, popcorn, popcorn became the new norm. This was followed by "In quote, out quote." They paraded around his face constantly making little gestures that looked more like bowing bunny ears. Bewildered, Alex had no idea what it meant, and for that he hated them. But mostly it was Popcorn, and then one day… Corn. Yes, Corn.

Corn, Corn, Corn, Corn...

"Corn turn off my lights.. Corn do the dishes.. Corn Dad is calling you!" His dad was not really calling him; the brothers were just up to no good. Being older and stronger, Corn was forced to submit. And so it was Corn. One day it just slipped and everybody laughed. His mom was cooking piroshki and it escaped from her mouth. 

"Corn, pass me the flour." Corn had been sweeping, but as soon as he heard her say it he stopped. Not because he was instinctively following orders or anything, but because until that point only the brothers had ever called him “Corn.” Corn would soon learn that this would not be the case for much longer. Corn spread like a virus. Yes they all had a little laugh, but Corn didn't think it was something that would last. He even laughed with them because he knew they would stop.

Corn was mistaken. The laughing did not stop. In fact, it even grew more constant, and there was almost no time when he wasn’t Corn. It started as a family thing; something that they could all share a laugh in. True, it did still irritate corn, but he soon learned to accept his ill fate. Then came the cousins. He had many of them. All Russians did. 

Somehow they found out. Somebody squealed. That sort of thing doesn't take very long, of course, and why this hadn't crossed Corn's mind, he himself did not know. It was to be expected, and even to be welcomed at this point. He was Corn. Four foot something Corn. And no longer was he Alex, well maybe in secret. A thing he sometimes called himself, but always in between Pop and Pip.

* * *

     The TV was on. They had gathered as a family. A family of boys. True, no one else was interested in Planet of the Apes other than the boys. It was the 1969 version, and the three boys sat in awe.

"So he went into the future and the apes have full control?" "Shutup corn! You're ruining it!" Corn remained silent, but every once in a while he would ask the most obviously stupid question.

"why did they capture him?"

"Corn, I don't know, just watch the movie!"

"Do you think he will escape?"

"Corn for the last time, shut up!"

"Yeah he will probably escape," he thought to himself aloud. They always do. And then came the scene. The beautiful frightful scene Corn would remember for the rest of his life. Not because it was dazzling, truth be told, it was a disappointment by any modern cinematic standards. The man ape is standing with the human prisoner, but he is a friendly ape. He is plotting with the human–to help him escape. Suddenly she runs to him. It’s his ape wife.

She runs with full speed as if something important was on her mind.

"CORNELIUS!" she yelps. Her embrace is a cardboard kiss. Not intentionally cardboard, but you could understand the convention of the late 1960's can't you? Or at least you should, but that’s not the point. The kiss was cardboard. The mouth was cardboard and she had uttered

"Cornelius."

His brothers look at him. Wide eyed, and not without inspiration.

"Cornelius" they repeat in their minds enough time to commit to memory. It’s like the tape on the way to California. Everyone is thinking about it, but nobody mentions it out loud. Secretly they all loved and hated it. Then the older one spoke. Corn, arms tensed, eyes locked ahead, waited for it, flinching every nerve.

"Hah! Cornelius" and then he made his own kissy sounds. Corn thought that this was gross, but he wasn’t about to say anything. There was no stopping them now. Now both brothers with the kissy sounds. The movie turned into a slight hum and all that Corn could hear was the sound of kissing paired with "Cornelius." “Yeah… Cornelius.” Despite all the kisses it was sweet sounding to his ears.

                                                             * Fin *