Friday, April 26, 2013

A Day in the Life of Wildaliz


            Recently while riding on a school bus, I noticed a particularly entertaining name above one of the seats. On a lot of those buses, there are little bits of paper above the seat with the names of the kids that sit there. It’s entertaining to see how many different ways people can try to spell Cameron. A friend pointed out a name above me that caught my attention: “Wildaliz.” Now most people know there’s a certain character to people who will give their kids crazy names, but it takes a special kind of that weird character to not only come up with that name, but to actually give it to their kid. I can only imagine what kind of messed up life that kid must have.
            Having strange characters in your life can certainly affect your development, but I think to have them that strange is something else. I imagine living in that kid’s world is a lot like being on acid in Disney World at times. I can see him starting his day, eating his mom’s original homemade breakfast called the Sharauquia and drinking her original homemade smoothie called the Caldelabra. He waves goodbye to his sister, Coronalanaseladanista, and gets onto his bus to sit under that little note that reads “Wildaliz.” He gets to school, and his substitute teacher absolutely cannot figure out how to pronounce his name.
“Will-da-liz?”
“No.”
“Wild-a-liz?”
“No.”
“Wild-a-leez?”
“No.”
            I’d like to be able to tell you how that dialogue ends, but I don’t know how you would actually pronounce it.
            Wildaliz continues his day, then he gets a phonecall from his mom at school.
            “I need you to come home and watch yo sista because I gotta go help yo aunt Sailioly wit her may-an problems.”
            Now he’s at home, he’s got nothing to do, and he’s hungry. He decides to look through the kitchen for some food, but he’s not in the mood for Shlorkdekollyoly, Colobiblioke, or Roliwuldeielly. And that’s all they have!
            So Wildaliz decides he should run to the store for some normal food. He thinks his mom won’t be back before him, so he should be okay. He brings the two crumpled and mashed up dollars he has to the store to get a hot pocket or something like that. Unfortunately for him, he ends up getting to the store as it’s being robbed the third time that week. The crazy Sudanian Immigrant who owns the store runs out and blames Wildaliz for being the first thing he saw.
When the police show up Wildaliz tries to give them his real name, but they think he’s trying to be smart and give them some gibberish instead of his real name.
“I told you, my name is Wildaliz.”
“Don’t get smart with me kid, what’s your real name?”
He gives up and gives them his mom’s phone number. Once the police work out that the store owner has never accused the right person of robbing his store once in his life, Wildaliz is free to go.
“You left widdout no permission, Wildaliz? I swear you ain’t gonna get no Shaloppy or Kerogelossy for a week!”
Wildaliz is forced to eat normal food for a while, which ends up actually being a real treat. That accidental system that rewards him when he gets in trouble is the one that leads to his eventual gang affiliation, drug use, and death. Maybe he would have been a good kid otherwise. Or maybe Wildaliz just has a couple quirks to his life, and it doesn’t actually get that extreme. That explanation’s no fun though.
If you don’t think that’s like being at Disney World on acid, you’ve obviously never been to Disney World on acid. I’m not saying I have, I’m just saying that if you have been to Disney World on acid, you lose the ability to think anything is impossible, ever.

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