Futuristic English

The European Union commissioners have announced that agreement has been reached to adopt English as the preferred language for European communications, rather than German, which was the other possibility.  As part of the negotiations, the British government conceded that English spelling had some room for improvement and has accepted a five-year phased plan for what will be known as EuroEnglish (Euro for short).

In the first year, "s" will be used instead of the soft "c". Sertainly, sivil servants will resieve this news with joy.  Also, the hard "c" will be replaced with "k". Not only will this klear up konfusion, but typewriters kan have one less letter.  There will be growing publik enthusiasm in the sekond year, when the troublesome "ph" will be replaced by "f". This will make words like "fotograf" 20 per sent shorter.

In the third year, publik akseptanse of the new spelling kan be expekted to reach the stage where more komplikated changes are possible.  Governments will enkorage the removal of double letters, which have always ben a deterent to akurate speling. Also, al wil agre that the horible mes of silent "e"s in the languag is disgrasful, and they would go.  By the fourth year, peopl wil be reseptiv to steps such as replasing "th" by "z" and "w" by " v". During ze fifz year, ze unesesary "o" kan be dropd from vords kontaining "ou", and similar changes vud of kors be aplid to ozer kombinations of leters.

Und efter ze fifz yer, ve vil al be speking German like zey vunted in ze forst place...

No Regrets, Ian Bavitz

Lucy was 7 and wore a head of blue barettes, city born, into this world with no knowledge and no regrets. She had a piece of yellow chalk with which she'd draw upon the street the many faces of the various locals that she would meet. There was Joshua, age 10, bully of the block who always took her milk money at the morning bus stop. There was Mrs. Crabtree and her poodle, she always gave a wave and holler on her weekly trip down to the bingo parlor. And she drew men, women, kids, sunsets, clouds, skyscrapers, fruit stands, cities and towns.

She always said hello to passers-bys. They'd ask her why she passed her time attaching lines to concrete but she would only smile. Now all the other children living in or near her building ran around like tyrants, soaking up the open fire hydrants. They would say "Hey little Lucy, wanna come jump double dutch?" Lucy would pause, look, grin and say "I'm busy, thank you much."  One year passed and believe it or not she covered every last inch of the entire sidewalk and she stopped. "Lucy, after all this, you're just giving in today??" She said: "I'm not giving in, I'm finished." and walked away.

 

That's the speed of the seed, that's the speed of the need; Dream a little dream, or you can live a little dream. I'd rather live it, because dreamers always chase but never get it.

Lucy was 37, and introverted somewhat. Basement apartment in the same building she grew up in. She traded in her blue barettes for long locks held up with a clip, traded in her yellow chalk for charcoal sticks. And she drew. The mailman delivered everyday at 4. Lucy had very little contact with the folks outside her cubicle day. But she found it suitable, and she liked it that way. She had a man now: Rico, similar, hermit and they would only see each other once or twice a week on purpose. They appreciated space and Rico was an artist too so they'd connect on Saturdays to share the pictures that they drew. Now every month or so, she'd get a knock upon the front door. Just one of the neighbors acting nice. Although she was a strange girl, they would say, "Lucy, wanna join me for some lunch??" Lucy would smile and say "I'm busy, thank you much."  They would make a weird face the second the door shut and run and tell their friends how truly crazy Lucy was. Lucy knew what people thought but didn't care because while they spread their rumors through the street she would paint another masterpiece.

Lucy was 87, upon her death bed at the senior home where she had previously checked in. Traded in the locks and clips for a head rest, traded in the charcoal sticks for arthritis, it had to happen. And she drew no more, just sat and watched the dawn. Had a television in the room that she'd never turned on. Lucy pinned up a life worth's of pictures on the wall and sat and smiled, looked each one over just to laugh at it all. Now Rico, he had passed about 5 years back so the visiting hours pulled in a big flock of nothing. She'd never spoken once throughout the spanning of her life until the day she leaned forward, grinned and pulled the nurse aside and she said,

"Look, I've never had a dream in my life because a dream is what you wanna do but still haven't pursued. I knew what I wanted and did it till it was done so I've been the dream that I wanted to be since day one!"

 

The nurse jumped back, she'd never heard Lucy even talk, especially words like that. She walked over to the door, and pulled it closed behind. Then Lucy blew a kiss to each one of her pictures,
 

And she died.