Today was to be the day The Prude proved she is not just a gravity-bashing crab. She was going to write on something of which she approves whole-heartedly.
She tossed and turned all night, brainstorming, assessing and discarding each idea in turn.
-Butterflies! (pretty, gentle, tend to dash themselves into oncoming vehicles and hold on with a death grip that remains even through car washes) NO!
-Babies! (sweet, adorable little bundles of original sin who erupt liquids and solids from every orifice) NO!
-Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens! (has a certain appeal but The Prude feels this has been expounded on before, and she is nothing if not redundant) reluctant No!
But then The Prude, trying to calm her fevered state, listened to the News (the News always calms The Prude as she reflects that the World wouldn’t be in this state if it would just listen to Prudes when they lecture and refrain from rolling the World’s respective eyes).
And she discovered that there are not one, but THREE possible hurricanes forming in the Atlantic. And do you know what these potential hurricanes are named?
Danielle, Earl and Fiona.
At first I was pleased by the euphonious, melodious sound of these lovely names, especially when repeated in succession. Danielle (The Prude’s favorite), Earl, and Fiona. They could be a set of extremely well-bred triplets being presented to the Queen for a rousing afternoon of tea, crumpets and lawn darts.
And then the Prudish disapproval instinct, always swishing too and fro between my ego and superego, surfaces, splashes all over my id, and brings me to my senses.
Why would we apply such lovely names to such dreaded and destructive forces of nature?
Whose idea was this, anyway?
The Prude spent the rest of the morning composing a lecture to the writers of
‘The Hurricane Baby Name Book’. She will eventually list suggestions for appropriate names for every letter of the alphabet. But for now, because the need is so great,
she is re-naming the ‘D’ ‘E’ and ‘F’ infant hurricanes with monikers more befitting
storms synonymous with widespread destruction.
Have a wonderful weekend, and before you embark on any carousing, think to yourself,
‘Would The Prude Approve?’