It’s time once again for SammiScribbles Weekend Writing Prompt. This week, our word is troglodyte. I went way over the word limit.
Tanya was a troglodyte. No one knew which side of the family carried the gene as both parents fiercely denied responsibility. None of the relatives drug their knuckles, at least not in public, nor did they eat reptiles. Well, except for the time that her cousin Kenny ate a lizard. But that was different, she had him in a choke hold and made him eat it. That didn’t count.
If you’re a troglodyte, you’re a troglodyte. Nothin’ you can do about it — was Tanya’s outward attitude. But on the inside, she was hurting. Like most teenagers she wanted to fit in, but it just wasn’t happening.
Tanya tried everything, make-up, new hairstyles; she tried to copy the wardrobes of her peers although her oddly proportioned troglodyte body refused to conform to humanoid clothing.
The one plus was that she was good at sports. Being larger and stronger than most kids her age (adults too, probably), in gym class the boys fought over on who’s team Tanya would play.
But that wasn’t the way that Tanya wanted to be liked. She wanted someone to tell her she was pretty, or had a nice personality, or anything that had nothing to do with size or strength. She didn’t even care if she was popular; she was tired of being a pariah.
One day, Tanya decided to visit a few plastic surgeons in hopes they could help. When she arrived at her first appointment, the doctor looked at her, stifled a chuckle and shook his head.
“I’m sorry Miss, but I wouldn’t touch you with someone else’s hand.”
Her eyes welled-up with tears and then the anger came.
“I see.” Tanya glared at him. “Well, I certainly don’t mind touching you with mine.” With that, Tanya hauled off and throat-punched him, sending him across the room and against the far wall.
She turned on her heel and left.
Rude bastard.
If evolution means being pretty on the outside and ugly on the inside, screw it. I’m just gonna be myself and let them all go reinvent the wheel. With any luck they’ll run themselves over with it.
Dear Susan,
A bit of an allegory I think. And what teenager doesn’t feel like a misfit, a troglodyte if you will? Good one.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Todah Rabah, Rochelle. 🙂
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The last line made me chuckle Susan.
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I’m glad. I struggled with that….
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