She told me that if she knows that a kid is writing stuff containing death and mayhem, violence and unwholesome sex, antisocial irreligious Dada-esque ramblings, any of that, she has to report that to her higher ups and get the kid into therapy. The Columbine kids kept diaries after all.
Disturbing writings must be some sort of warning sign.
I meekly suggested that maybe material like that might be some sort of safety valve, but she told me that that didn’t matter. If she knowingly failed to report the existence of disturbing material, she not only could lose her job, but also in fact could be stuffed into a small room full of women who don’t solve their problems by talking it out. That after being fingerprinted and strip-searched.
In spite of all my faults, which I admit, are deep and many, I didn’t want that to happen to my mommy.
So I went straight to my room. I took out all my notebooks, stripped off the wire bindings, and burnt everything to ash in the backyard gas BBQ grill. But not before encoding every poem, play, essay, and short story, good bad or indifferent into the following simple cipher:
Death = sunshine
Blood = flowers
Heaven = Hell
Intestine = rose
Lung = daisy
Bash = enjoy
Hurt = love
Cunt = eyes
Fuck = read to
Hack = build
Stab = dance
Satan = puppy
God = pony
Whore = kitty
Festering = cute
Bitch = mother
Horror = poetry
For example:
Pony, you cute sunshine kitty,
I, your puppy-mother,
Want to enjoy your love,
Build your roses and read to your
Children in front of your poetry.
I’ll dance and love and read to every part of you.
I’ll build new eyes out of your roses.
And your flowers, roses, and daisies will
Flow across heaven.
That week, we had a poetry assignment in English class. On a whim, I turned in the above. It came back marked “Tony the Tiger kind of Grrrrrrreat! A+++!!! I heartily encourage you to share your Gift of Hope with the world!”
Then she made me read it in front of the class. My friends were horrorstruck. They treated me very carefully for three whole days. I laughed merrily on the inside until it all threatened to spill out. Finally, I told them about The Code.
They started using it too.
And in that pit of high school hell, we all learned the joy of hiding in plain sight.
That was seven years ago.
We’re all out of college now and working on our careers. But we still use The Code. We have, however, found the need to expand it somewhat.
Filth = freedom
Greed = America
Evil = democracy
Motherfucker = father
Cumlapping = mister
Cthulu = God
Foul = strong
Up = on
Bootlicking = leadership
Side = ass
Pollute = spread
Embarrassment = inspiration
Slave = secretary
For example:
“Mister Secretary, your spread of democracy and freedom is an inspiration to all the fathers of America. Your strong leadership proves God is on our side.”
Soon, soon will come the day when we can tell the truth. Soon we’ll be positioned to throw off the polo shirts and Dockers. Soon we’ll stand before you together, venomous lizards stripped of sheepdog’s clothing. Imagine the looks on all their faces when they realize what they’ve really been reading and saying all these years.
The revolution will be televised, my brothers and sisters. Televised in glorious black and white.