Chapter Ten
Chapter Ten
And indeed, Amber was never the same again. The sickness had left her, never to return. At last, she was cured. She became a normal girl with normal reactions. She vomited only when she had eaten something that disagreed with her or because of a tummy bug. Back at school she blended in. She was no longer special. People stopped avoiding her. She even found a boyfriend in the course of time.
There was a brief mention of her recovery in the newspaper, down at the bottom of the back page. The cult she had inspired soon disbanded, though a few dedicated disciples took to the hills to practice their religion. Before long all the blue effluent had been destroyed—flushed down the toilet or left for bacteria to feed upon.
And so, Amber became a happy healthy girl, at least as happy as you and me. If you met her, you would like her. Her ambition was to become a doctor, specializing in the elderly. Her intelligence was high but not too high. She took her place as a regular member of the human race.
But the moon never blinked and the wind never stopped its gossiping.
A hilarious lampoon of a retarded species, and an accurate parable of the treatment that upright churls can expect from their moral midget coevals.
So accurate! And let me congratulate you on your McGinn-Nabokov style. But is my story suitable for children and will adults learn anything? And why have I felt nausea for the last twelve years?
Thank you! I take pleasure in choosing my words carefully, as well as reading prose carefully wrought with precision, ebullience and flair, such as your own and Nabokov’s.
I would say that the story is suitable for intelligent children or adolescents between the ages of 11 and 17. And most likely to have a salutary effect on minds of that impressionable age. I doubt most adults will learn much, up to their necks as they are in hypocrisy and moral corruption.
What can I say, I hear echoes of my voice in yours. I suggest you consider the vexed question of the Oxford comma. I should try to get kids of that age to read it–not that I know any.
I had inserted the comma initially and deleted it. On examination I see that it mars the sentence by merging epithets which are supposed to be considered separately. I will remember not to make the same mistake.
I wouldn’t call it a mistake, but I came round to the Oxford comma quite late in life and now find it indispensable.