The Secrets of Youngests

There are so many conspiracies out there that I have nothing to do with, so it's nice to have one where I'm on the inside - in the know - initiated. Even if it means I blow the cover for youngest children world-wide, well, what can I say?

I'm a youngest. We're inherently irresponsible.

Those of you who are youngest children can go back to driving your older sib's car and bringing it back with no gas, or blowing off a job interview to enter a Galaga tournament.

 You know all this stuff. For you older, only, or middles, I'm about to confirm what you've suspected for years.

We do all this stuff that drives you crazy - ON PURPOSE!

It's all in the handbook - The Youngest Child Handbook, available in used book stores and tatoo parlors across the country.

Now at this point some responsible, well-educated, hard-working first-born is saying to himself or to the other members of his masonic organization, "that's not true. 

 I go into used book stores frequently to look for rare first editions. I've never seen this Youngest Child Handbook."

Meanwhile some middle is getting really pissed that his younger sibling has been hiding this bit of information all this time (on top of always eating the last of the left-over dessert each night, and NEVER getting in trouble for it.)

Only children are just shrugging their shoulders and saying, "This isn't about me? Who cares?"

While I have no response to the only child, and on principle never say anything useful to a middle, I can deal with the first-born's objection.

We hide the handbooks from you responsible types. We do it so well that not a single one of the billions of first-borns throughout the history of the planet has ever found one of our handbooks.

How is this possible, you ask? While it's true that first-borns are usually the CEOs of corporations, small used book stores and tattoo parlors are frequently owned by youngests.

 Even those establishments that are not, are usually staffed by them. Now that running away to the circus is less of an option than it was a century ago, video game arcades, bowling alleys, tattoo parlors, pizza delivery outlets and used book stores are the only places that look to hire us youngests. Generations of doing balloon animals, amateur magic, and awesome air guitar have trained us youngests to rapidly remove and hide

(some times up a sleeve,)

shelves of Youngest Child Handbooks whenever a neatly coiffed first-born is spotted.

I bet that really bugs you superior control-freaks. I don't mean that to sound harsh. We youngests generally love first-borns. They take us in when Mom and Dad get tired of us, and many youngests wouldn't even be here if first-borns hadn't kept middles from smothering us in our cradles.

So what exactly is in the Youngest Child Handbook other than ways of mooching off of first-borns and annoying middles? Just the standard stuff about secret middle-of-the-night parties in secluded woods with unicorn races and faerie dances.

Why else did you think we slept till noon?

"How come we don't get to ride unicorns and dance with fairies?" complains the middle.

Like I said - it's all in the handbook.

   And now - equal time for middles - their favorite saying.

Another Day at Amalgamated Monster

Though I’m convinced that my natural state is unemployed (though not necessarily penniless in spite of the paltry compensation I get from Go Figure Reads,) I just recently celebrated my 6 month anniversary working for Amalgamated Monster LLC.

To commemorate, they allowed us two hours of radio by their wholly owned subsidiary WEVL (all evil – all the time.)

Beetle customarily sits next to me in his Papa John’s Pizza shirt. Wearing it each day saves him time for three games of Galaga between his shift at Amalgamated Monster and his delivery job.

 Apparently Beetle also saves time by not doing laundry, showering, or perhaps even brushing his teeth.

“Aren’t you embarrassed wearing a Papa John’s shirt when you’re not delivering pizza?” I asked him.

“Why?” said Beetle. “It’s not Little Caesars.”

Word around the Pepsi machine is that Beetle is true Amalgamated Monster material. Everybody figures he’s on the fast-track for promotion. I’d be tempted to ride on his coat-tails if they weren’t slimed with long-dead anchovies.

I might not have seen Helga Hofstra again if not for Amalgamated Monster. She was my childhood sweetheart and I’d lost track of her nearly forty years ago. One day I spotted Helga working on a machine with so many blaring lights and creepy sounds that everyone in my work-group was afraid to even ask what it does. As I gazed upon my lost love, I reflected on how she grew up to look much like my High School chemistry teacher.

And he was not a good looking man.

WEVL announced a Milli Vanilli countdown as the afternoon project came in. We were each issued a stack of 8 ½ x 11 sheets and told to tri-fold them to fit in a business envelope. When asked why they didn’t use the paper folder machine in the office, Pam, our middle manager just shuddered and walked away briskly.

 The writing on each sheet was in some foreign language, so we didn't know what we were doing. The most popular theories among my co-workers were 1) we were packaging biological weapon infused paper for enemies of the NSA, 2) the sheets were fold-n-sniff samples for the cologne eau-de-skunk cabbage, and 3) that we were sending out Amway propaganda to third world nations.

I hoped it was one of the first two – third world nations have enough trouble without sicking Amway on them.

Just as we were about to pass out from the great cloud of skunk cabbage flavored anthrax, Helga’s scary machine gave out a flatulent sounding fanfare that either announced our imminent deaths, or the end of the work-day. Our response to either possibility was the same. We packed up our belongings and headed for the exit except for Beetle who made a decayed pizza smelling bee-line for the Galaga machine.

Yup, that was another day at Amalgamated Monster. I still say that my natural state is unemployment, but if I have to work – this is the best job I've ever had.

Speaking of tough work - here's one of my favorite movie openings.