J. Rusolo Ward

“Rudyard is a stupid name,” Gus declared.

Lisa frowned.  “What about Oscar?”

“As in Oscar Wilde?  Only if you want my nephew bullied.”

“Dickens?”

He gave her the thumbs down.  Looking at his brother-in-law, he said, “Dan, don’t let her name him.”

“I’m surprised by how much I like her choices.”

“See,” Lisa smiled triumphantly.  “What’s with the eye roll?”

“To quote Wilde, ‘The truth is rarely pure and never simple.’”

“The baby’s dancing on my bladder, I’ll be back.”  She kissed Dan and waddled out.

“Fess up.  You can’t want to name your son after those stuffy Victorians.”

“Wilde wasn’t stuffy.”

“Kipling was a goody-goody.  And Dickens?  Do I even need to mention why that’s not okay?”

“I enjoy their work.”

“Since when? You hate English literature, rhetoric and poetics.”

“Is Oscar better than Rudyard?”

“Anything is better than Rudyard.”  He sighed.  “Why’re you considering these names?”

“Lisa’s into poetry.”

Gus raised an eyebrow.  “She wouldn’t insist if you hated them.”

“True.”

“So?”

“I’ve been talking to parents and visiting parenting sites.”

“That’s normal.”

“Yeah, well, from what I’m read, kids aren’t just hard work.  They’re real pieces of crap.  They turn your life upside down, cost you a ton of money, and are completely ungrateful.  The teenage years are nightmares.”

“It’s too late to worry about it now.  Besides, once he’s born, you’ll love your son so much, you won’t care.”

“That’s just it.  I know I’ll love him and forgive him for all the crazy things he’ll do:  the temper tantrums, messy room, rude comments, the works!”  Dan looked him dead in the eyes.  “That’s why I want to give him the worse name I can think of.  Revenge before he’s born and I’ve grown to love him unconditionally.”

“Brilliant!”

“Just don’t tell Lisa.”

If you’re interested in participating in a fortnightly 300 word story group (either sending in your work or reading the work of talented authors), please follow the link to join the group:

To Cut a Short Story