barney
It was immaculately white. We were seated in neat rows of ivory tables, sitting for an English essay paper with ten questions to choose from, kind of like those mock exams we had in school in the past. Except that this one was a wee bit different: If I didn’t ace the paper, I would somehow wither within a few hours of completing it and disappear completely off the face of the Earth.
The clock’s hands move slowly to their precise destination, to when the exam begins, and I gaze into it with hopeless, teary eyes. It feels quite like waiting in prison for the moment of execution, except that prior to your demise you have to first write an essay.
Finally the clock striked ten and the scratching of urgent scrawls drowned out the deafening silence that filled up the room. I was truly horrified and a feeling of dismay washed over me as I watched everyone tend to their essays when I had barely even looked at all ten possibilities, let alone made my choice of question. I was so anxious that my fingers began to tremble.
I then turned the stark white page over to reveal the essay questions printed in strict rows of black, and I remember a lot of imaginary self-inflicted harm because I did not study Barney, and all ten questions involved the humongous purple dinosaur. WHY THE FUCK DID I NOT STUDY BARNEY?
I decided to narrow the options down by way of eliminating those that I didn’t have a good chance of nailing, one after the other, before finally settling down with a question regarding Barney’s role and significance in today’s society. Next to me the desk was overflowing with black words against five pages of paper and counting, and I wanted to jab my fountain pen into the scribbling boy’s eyes because while he made love to eloquence I was struggling with a decent introduction. It bled me dry of ideas and all I could come up with was, “Barney emphasises the importance of familial kinship in our increasingly fragmented society, as can be seen from the lyrics, ‘I love you, you love me, we’re a happy family’…”
Then I started crying noiselessly. I was filled with indignation, and I thought it was unjust that I would cease to exist because of my benightedness regarding some kiddie show I’d only seen once, and that one episode single-handedly provided me a definition of animosity (towards purple dinosaurs, to be more precise). Having to write about the one thing I did not study in an essay that would conclude my fate was mental torture.
After a while the examiner noticed my sobbing and gravitated towards me. I initially thought he was wearing white clothing that blended well with the white walls, but as he came closer I realised that he was consisted of a disjointed head with his limbs and extremities floating in midair. I let out a stentorian squeal and rushed out of the room.
A few moments later I laughed myself awake.
