The Unfortunate Names Club
October 27/05


“What’s your name?”
“Fünf.”
“Foonf?”
“Yeah, it’s German.”
“What does it mean?”
“Ein, zwei, drei, vier, fünf.”
“Oh.”
“It’s five, in German.”
“Your name is five?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“That’s how many times my mother proposed to my father before he said yes.”
“Wow. Say! You could be a member of the Unfortunate Names Club.”
“Unfortunate Names Club?”
“Yes, The Unfortunate Names Club.”
“What’s that?”
“Oh, you actually want to know? Most people get offended when I say their names are unfortunate.”
“Well, I do have an unfortunate name.”
“It’s a club for people who have really awful names,”
“How many members are there?”
“It’s technically just been me for the past five years. But my friend Ichabob used to be in it from kindergarten to grade two. Then she gave herself a nickname,”
“What was it?”
“Cab. For some reason, people really liked it. Throughout the month of October, she made thirty-one new friends. That’s one friend a day. Then she forgot about me.”
“Wow.”
“Yep. So I’ve been sans friends since then. Anyway, wanna join?”
‘Oh… um, what do you do in this club?”
“We just stick up for each other, there’s not too many people with unfortunate names anymore, so we have to look out for our breed. And you can’t go giving yourself a nickname during the summer.”
“That’s not a problem. What would I go by? Foo?”
“Don’t even think about it. That’s a good name.”
“Sure, I’ll join.”
“When you went to summer camp, did you ‘lose’ your nametag?”
“What?”
“Like, every summer I went to this day camp where you had to wear a nametag because there were so many insane kids running around the place. Every summer I tied my name tag to a big rock and sunk it. They’d always give me more and I’d always sink them.”
“I never went to summer camp.”
“That’s kind of sad.”
“What’s your name?”
“Xena.”
“Like the Warrior Princess?”