by Jenny M.
This is the pointless story about a pointless girl living a pointless life in a not so pointless world.
When I say pointless, I do not say it in the traditional sense meaning, “devoid of use” or “without purpose.” I say “pointless” in the literal sense of the word, meaning she has no points.
Her eyes are like great round saucers, never deviating from the sphere, never even daring to show such a shocking and tactless thing as a point.
Her fingers, like her toes, had a length no longer than their width, and they have the same coloring of soft, round peaches, without the fur.
Does she have pointed legs, you ask? That I do not know. She is never caught without her large, bell-shaped skirt covering her from the waist to the toes, and whatever points that lie underneath, if any, are expertly concealed.
She stands in sharp contrast to the rigid, straight-edged world all round her. Some say that she needn’t even walk, for she is round enough to roll like a boulder in an accursed temple of doom, like a ball in a child’s careless game.
She hears them snicker as she waddles on by.
“What a stupid looking blob that thing is,” a teenage boy whispers.
“She must be an American,” his companion replies, hoping to delight in a look of embarrassment on her face.
But she does not waver. In fact, it seems that she has not even heard their cruel jests, though in reality this is far from the truth. Disappointed by their failure to illicit a reaction, the boys begin to follow her, taunting her with the worst insults they can dream up.
Still, she does not react.
“Dammit!” the elder of the boys curses. “What’s wrong with this crazy pig?”
Desperately, the boys run in front of her and stand in her path, confronting the great mass of flesh and bone with their hostile words.
“Hey you!” they scream. “Why don’t you listen to us?! We’re talking to you, you fat lard!”
It is only in this moment that they realize their great error. She is rolling towards them fast, and with the momentum she has built she is not going to be stopping anytime soon.
They turn to run, but it is too late. To this day all that is left of them is a greasy smudge on the sidewalk.
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