A Moment of Z
Based on a Sesame Street short involving the letters A and Z, in which Z is played by Stephen Colbert. In the research process I discovered that there is an Actual Sesame Street Song containing the lyrics "Remember Q Because It's Queer."
I think you can guess who I modeled the letter J after. Hint: he's jocular, he's judicious, and he's Jewish.
This story was brought to you by Thesaurus.com, and the letter λ.
Rating: G. Come on, it's Sesame Street.
Words: 478
Disclaimer: The usual. Also, Sesame Street does not belong to me in any way, shape, or form. (Neither does the alphabet, but I think it's public-domain.)
A Moment of Z
They were at a bar (one A) where he was complaining (one A) about how he liked her, of course—couldn't do without her half the time—but still, without meaning to, she always made him feel so inadequate (two A's).
"I haven't appeared yet in this narrative so far," he said, by way of example, "and she's showed up 27 times without even trying."
"Neither have I," pointed out his friend. "Dude, she's a vowel. That's what happens when you're a vowel."
The letter Z took a swig of his drink (Zam Zam Cola, because you couldn't get anything alcoholic on this street, not that there were a whole lot of cocktails that started with Z either). "That's what you always say." (Five A's in that sentence alone, and four in this one.)
"And I'm going to keep saying it until it sinks in," replied the letter J, who was of course having juice. "Besides, you got to join her in the big video special, didn't you? The vowels didn't have a lot of competition, but I know consonants who would have killed for the role you got."
"That's the problem, though," protested Z. "Any consonant would have worked. You could have done the job, and instead of saying 'zoo' and 'zebra' over and over, those kids could have said, well, 'job', and 'jungle' and 'joke' and 'jump' and . . ."
". . . 'jealous'?" suggested J.
"Exactly!" cried Z, then paused. "Oh, I see what you did there. Very funny."
"I prefer 'jovial', myself," remarked J.
"Of course you do," said a testy Z. "Geez, we can't all be master wordsmiths like you, doing the Jumble every day."
"I don't."
"Even if you are the second least frequent letter in English, you still appear twice as much as—what?"
"I said, I don't do the Jumble every day. I don't do the Jumble at all."
"Really?" Z's brow furrowed. "How did you get to be so accomplished with words, then?"
"Crossword puzzles."
"There aren't any J's in that."
"No."
Z looked closely at the letter across from him. "But there are two Z's."
"Just so," agreed J, who hesitated before adding, "I haven't told you this because I didn't want to make you jittery or jumpy, but I—"
"And not a single A!" interrupted Z. Whatever the other letter had been about to say, he let it go in order to take in the joy on Z's face. "You're the best, J!"
He said it so fervently that J would have almost believed it, believed that he meant something special to Z; except that Z spoke with the same zeal and zest to everyone, so it meant zip. Zero. Zilch. J was too jaded by now to expect otherwise.
Plain-jane though he was in Z's eyes, though, he had gotten Z out of his dejection. That would just have to be enough.
—
>> Sequel: Vocabulary Lesson