égotistique,
Literary (Submission): Imaginary Fiend
While cleaning my room yesterday, I saw this fancy sketch of a cute-looking bunny. I looked at it very carefully – its pointed ears, its snow-like fur, its fluffy tail, star-shaped marks, and stitches. It also had a red sad-faced stamp at the corner, albeit losing ink.
Then I suddenly remembered that this innocent-looking creature was my imaginary friend, or rather fiend, when I was a child. Not to mention, she made me stand out among my peers at a young age – as an imaginative, intelligent, and cynical genius. They were too simpleminded to judge me as a troublemaker, a rebel of this society just because I did not seem to fit their norms.
One time in school when I and the other kids were told to listen to a boring, old-fashioned fable of my teacher. It was about a meek bunny who lived in an "enchanted" forest. Yes, it's so enchanted, that it's just like any other drab, old forest! She was such a goody two-shoes – she hopped everywhere and made friends with other animals of her kind. One day, an evil hawk arrived to spread mayhem by killing all the woodland's inhabitants. As he was about to eat the pathetic bunny, she pleaded him to spare her life and instead just be friends with him. Then, as if by magic, he suddenly became a tamed pigeon, and decided to live with them for good. Too bad, that bird of prey was not able to obliterate her "bunny-kind" once and for all.
As she concluded the story, she was telling us the moral of the story. "Be submissive. Be friends with everyone." While most of my classmates were nodding passively, I felt as if the teacher was forcing me to change my obstinate personality. Yes, my peers might have not liked or approved of me. They might have run away from me during recess and play time. They might have thought I was that hawk in the guise of a quiet, mysterious child. But actually, getting to know all of them and engaging in small talk would not work. Because in the first place, I did not find them interesting– they were so gullible that they would even believe that the most flagrant fabrications are true! I also did not see anything special – their dreams and principles were confined to this world where conventional wisdom is indoctrinated, where weird behaviors are berated, where thinking beyond reality is discouraged. I asked myself, "Why would I be friends with all of my classmates if they do not satisfy my standards of being exceptional?"
I gave my classmates and teacher a menacing glare, just like that hawk who was about to devour the stupid rabbit. Then suddenly, she gave me a warning, that if I would not cooperate, she would put a sad face on my black shirt. I felt as if she pushed my buttons, "Yeah, teacher, go on. You may put that silly sticker on my shirt, but that does not mean I would stop being dissatisfied. You're so daft, goody-goody..."
"Imago! How dare you disrespect me like that! You also hurt some of your classmates. You heard the moral of the story, young man? Be submissive, friendly..."
"You might be a teacher – yes, I respect that, but you should not think we would simply accept everything you say, without question. After all, there's a saying that one should not try to please everyone. People might take advantage of you, just like that bunny in the story, with that kind of..."
"That's it! Not only am I gonna put three sad stickers on your shirt for being so mean, but you're also not gonna eat recess as a punishment!"
Then the school bell gave a loud, annoying kring. At least, those insufferable nitwits would be gone for a while.
"Okay, class. Time to go to the canteen for recess and playtime! Everyone except Imago may go to the canteen. And as for you, Imago, I am just gonna buy a cup of coffee at the lounge nearby. If you do something bad while I'm out, I'll be calling your mother."
Then she scurried to the canteen together with the other kids. Now that everyone was outside the room, I could continue what I was doing before story time – conjuring, in my mind, a magical voodoo doll, then cursing my teacher with it.
I was also pondering over other possible outcomes of the fable. What if the hawk ate her and the other creatures living in the forest? What if the bunny was actually a savage bear in disguise? What if the bunny was like the character in that movie... oh yes, the nun who practiced dark magic? Oh wait, dark magic! Bunny! I could put that innocent bunny and sinister black magic together to make... voila, a voodoo doll! Yes, a voodoo bunny doll is what I shall sketch. Now I just need some pencil, pastel crayons, and paper. If I'm done drawing it, then I could probably hang it on the blackboard!
I started to execute my magnificent plan. grabbed the pencil and paper on the teacher's table with hasty excitement and snatched the crayon box on my desk. I began to draw my imaginary fiend. I first made an outline of that bunny in the fable – her ears, hands, foot, tail, and other parts. Ugh, she looks harmless. Then I decided to put the creepy parts.
First, I made make her ears pointed, as if she was a little devil. This will definitely scare my teacher. I think she's afraid of demon-like figures. Those sharp, red, tall ears will give her a devilish aura, which is enough to make her faint and think that narrating that nonsense story was a bad idea at all!
Then I added a lot of stitched patterns everywhere. On her immaculate head, her bare hands, her clean body, her tiny feet, everywhere! Those black marks will not make her easy prey anymore. It will give her magic power. My classmates would hesitate to come near her. After all, they're afraid of the occult!
Next, I drew a lot of pins on her feet. The pins were either red or green – the former representing my hatred against those who doubt my imagination, and for the latter, my envy for my classmates who were admired and respected, even if they are actually simple-minded. Those pins... I imagine putting them on her body. I can make my classmates think that they're just her "props". How daft of them to be unaware of the dark emotions I want to convey!
Lastly, I put stars, I meant pentagrams on her forehead and stomach. Then I colored them black. These star-shaped patterns will make her different from other poppets I see in supernatural movies. Of course, she would look special with those. My classmates might freak out if they found out the real meaning behind those emblems!
And lo, behold my masterpiece – my imaginary fiend! My ultimate weapon against my silly teacher and friends, against those who think that imagination is sinful, against worldly traditionalism, against the folly brought by reality! Now I just have to hang it in a place that's conspicuous enough before their recess ends... aha, the blackboard!
I cut some scotch tape from my teacher's table and then pasted my drawing on the board. I rushed to my seat in the nick of time. Shortly after, my classmates came and, as usual, sat away from me. My teacher also arrived, with her brown mug of coffee still in her hand.
As she placed the mug on her table, she got chalk and began writing the phrase "IMAGINATION IS BAD." on the board. Then she noticed my drawing. Before she could ask who hung it, she trembled in fear, as if the voodoo bunny doll was hexing her. After a few seconds, she fainted, causing my classmates to shriek with terror. Some also looked daggers at me and shouted, "Imago! It's your fault!"
Then one of my classmates, the the self-proclaimed model student, tried to wake up our teacher, much to his consternation. But he found out she was still unconscious. "Quick, please call somebody outside and tell them teacher fainted!" Then he found her big stamp. It had a carved sad face. He forcibly tapped it on the red ink and then impressed the frown on the corner of the paper. Then he called my attention, as if he were the teacher.
"Imago, you better explain this!" he said urgently.
"Okay, okay. I know y'all might be hurt by what I'm gonna say, but I don't care! I drew that vood... I mean that thingamajig to show that I'm angry..."
"Angry? For what?"
"Angry for recounting a fable that I hate. You remember, 'be submissive, be friendly', yadda yadda yadda. Such advice is extremely silly and useless! You know, I feel that the pieces of advice we get from her fables are very worldly and traditional. It's as if they trap us in this mundane reality – you should do this, do that, shouldn't do this, shouldn't do that, whatever! I mean, can't we think outside reality and go beyond the restrictions caused by convention? After all, it's ironic considering that she wrote 'imagination is bad', when in fact the story a while ago was a product of imagination itself!"
He turned speechless. "Huh, what do you mean?"
"Ugh, you don't understand. No one else understands me! What I'm trying to tell is..."
Then, as if by magic, our teacher woke up. He helped her go back to her chair and explained what happened. Then our teacher, in her parochial voice, scolded me, "Imago... you rascal! Remove that creepy doll from the board, I don't wanna see that thing ever again. Later, before you go home, we'll have visitors around – your mother."
I was so preoccupied, thinking of that memory when my mom called me, "Imago! Time to go downstairs. We have a visitor here – your model-student classmate way back in second grade! Remember, his mother and me haven't seen each other for a long time. We'll talk, while the two of you can play. Just don't make your imagination go far!"
Then I remembered again that pretentious classmate of mine. That goody-goody boy who sacrificed himself to those narrow-minded, antiquated traditions! That goody-goody boy who enslaved himself to the limits of reality. That goody-goody boy who criticized me for having such a deep imagination. That goody-goody boy who is cautious of the surreal. Oh yes, I won't make my imagination go far! It's high time that I pay back. You'll be seeing that drawing again as you come inside.
I folded the paper containing the drawing of my imaginary fiend and ensconced it inside my hands. I went down with fiendish delight, as if I would be giving an enemy a gift – a gift that would surprise him and, if possible, make him faint. Imago, remember this. You are the hawk, and he is the bunny, I mean, easy prey!
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