Dear Overly Smiley Poorly Carved Gary,
My brother is demanding that I rationalize why I named our freshly carved pumpkin Gary. Personally I don’t think he deserves an answer as a) not home b) didn’t carve the pumpkin c)didn’t have the intimate experience of pulling out Gary’s guts with his bare hands. Gary and I bonded okay, little brother. His name is Gary, your name is Hedgehog. All things considered, I gave the pumpkin a more normal name than you. What does that mean?
You never bond with someone so deeply as when your hands are full of their guts.
While I personally think that my little hedgehog of a brother is jealous that I’ve replaced him with a grinning pumpkin, we need to have a chat Gary. A chat about the truth. And the truth is that I have literally no idea why I named you Gary. But really, does any parent? They just go, ‘hey, i like how that sounds. Yes. I shall perpetually call this wrinkly spud of a human by that collection of sounds.’ I arbitrary started calling you Gary. Then the mother called you Gary. Congratulations, you’re now Gary. No reason. Completely on a whim. That’s the word that popped out of my mouth.
I’m turning into my mother. I don’t actually remember the last time she called me by my name. She just says whatever name she wants. This goes doubly for Hedgehog because at least he calls me by my name.
No my parents didn’t name my little brother hedgehog. That gem was loving bestowed on him by his much more beautiful and intelligent older sister.
But Gary, dear grinning Gary. We had a naming crisis. I called you Gary. Then I got questioned as to why I called you Gary. My brain broke. Did you look like a Gary? Would you grow into the name Gary? Should I change it? What if you hated the name? Could live up to the all connotations of the name Gary? Had I doomed you to a life of poor nicknames and sadness?
So thanks Hedgehog and Gary for that little bit of parenthood. That was more than enough. Let’s not go there again any time soon. And Gary?
Thanks for grinning,