The Amazing Tale of the Girl with the Exceptionally Big Head

There once was a girl
with an exceptionally big head
which served to contain
her brains of great weight.
With her ample resources,
She would think through the nights
of pulsars and quasars
and the meaning of life.
Yet due to her rather
strange proportion,
it occurred to the girl
men approached her with caution.
This set her of course
on a new thinking spree,
as she sought to define
what caused men to flee.

She proceeded upon
a series of tests -
the hypothesis being
men tend to regress
to childish behaviour
when left on their own –
so using some glue,
she stuck one at home.
Specimen A was rather distraught
cajoling and beer
failed to calm him a lot.
At the point in the experiment
when he spat in her face,
she decided that he
was not to her taste.
Efficiently disposing
of his sad residue,
she boldly designed
a plan fresh and new.

Now Specimen B
was deemed the control,
the variables being
the girl’s very own role.
By turns she was sweet,
demure, sometimes sexy,
she gave long massages,
sent herself home in a taxi.
She kept her opinions
much to herself,
as he frequently lectured
on the world’s social health.
After some months of listening to drivel,
the girl felt her head discernibly shrivel.
While aesthetically speaking
this seemed like a boon,
she felt the real danger
of becoming a goon.

She realized the need for her to assess
the considerable data
amassed from her tests.
Number 1, she concluded,
confinement didn’t work.
Deprived of their freedom,
men tend to be jerks.
Number 2, she surmised,
most men like to talk.
All they want is an audience –
attentive, yet hot.
Number 3 was a question
she needed to ask -
was companionship worth
this long tedious farce?

She imagined more years
in self-imposed silence
mustering smiles
amidst inner violence.
Rather regretful,
she had to conclude
that exceptionally big heads
did seem to preclude
the mincing and prancing
of such necessity
when one was ensuring
that men would not flee.

But all of a sudden
a revelation struck!
The girl saw the defect
in the experimental set-up.
She beamed in great wonder,
her hope all revived –
the results had been skewed
due to the small sample size!

The Legend of the Missing Fisher Boy

Once upon a time, there lived a boy named Rayum and he was a brilliant fisherman. He could sit for hours in his little boat and bring in fish after fish. He could even name the sequence in which the fish would come – garoupa, tilapia, sucker, sardine, another tilapia – and the other fishermen (especially the older ones) would go green with envy. There were murmurs that he had made a pact with sea-witches, and other wicked gossip from the mouths of jealous competitors.

But even though Rayum was a great fisherman, he was a terrible singer. It didn’t help that he loved to sing to himself at all times of the day. The noise so grated on his family that they frequently urged him to go out to sea. He gladly obliged, for he loved the sea. And the strangest thing was, due to the sea-water in their ears, mermaids would flock around his sampan to hear his singing. So Rayum would fish through the nights, singing and surrounded by adoring mermaids.

One day, he met a particularly intelligent mermaid, who called herself Ti. She was different from many other mermaids as she routinely cleared seawater from her ears. Thus, she could tell immediately that Rayum was a terrible singer.

‘Why do you sound so bad?’ she asked.
Rayum almost dropped his fishing rod. He had never heard a mermaid speak before.
‘I thought mermaids only sang? How is it that you can speak?’
‘Mermaids sing so as to lure fishermen and sailors into the water silly. Of course we can speak,’ chided Ti.
Rayum turned pale at the revelation.
‘You mean all those mermaids…?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t second-guess their intentions. But you can trust me,’ assured Ti.
‘Why should I trust you?’ Rayum asked, his extremely suspicious nature aroused.
‘Well, if you don’t, I can’t show you my world,’ stated Ti, with a smile.
‘And why would I want to see your world?
‘Because it’s more beautiful than yours,’ said Ti plainly.

Rayum didn’t know what to think. Here was this strange mermaid he barely knew telling him about malicious mermaids and promising him a world – it was all too fishy. Rayum decided to treat Ti’s remark as an insult.

‘Your world more beautiful than mine? What do you know? Do you know that my world has high mountain ranges covered in snow? Wide desert spaces burning with sand? Vast forest ranges filled with life? What do you know about my world, you creature of the sea?’ Rayum raged.
‘I only know that you sit fishing in your little boat and singing songs to mermaids through long nights and most days. Isn’t that your world?’

Rayum fell silent. Was that how small his world had shrunk?

Ti waited beside the gently bobbing sampan. ‘Will you come with me to see my world?’ she asked again, quietly.

Rayum remained silent.

Ti waited for a few long moments, then disappeared beneath the waves.

As the moon slowly set and the dawnlight came, Rayum started to row home. He did not sing.

As he rested on his bed that morning, he slept and dreamt.

In the dream, he followed Ti, swimming as quickly as she could, past the top layers of emerald waters to the deep dark sapphire waters of ocean depths. She showed him palaces of pearl and ancient gold, caves with stones carved with the stories of legendary heroes, the freedom atop dolphins, racing with one another; and everywhere, there were songs that rose from the coral, songs that sang of truths and life and newness…

Rayum awoke suddenly. He rowed his sampan out to sea and was never seen again.

The gossip-mongers who gloried in cruel tales said that Ti had been a sea-witch with the most poisonous sea-song of all, and that she had lured him to his doom. The more practical villagers said that he had simply travelled out to see more of the world, after realising how small his world had become in the light of Ti’s words. And the dreamers and young girls said that he had taken up Ti’s offer and joined her to see a more beautiful world.