scurfy

anonymous asked:

Do you have any stories about little girls falling in love with the monster classmate?

This girl walks up to her desk one day. Until then she didn’t know that was something people could just do. Even the teacher doesn’t usually get within five feet of her. But she just walks right up, glances at her, and drops a piece of construction paper on top of the open pages of her book.

(The book is the latest Baby Sitters Club. Her aura is a fascinated electric green as she waits with anticipation to see if this is the day Mary Ann finally gets her ears pierced.)

“I drew a picture of you,” she says. The girl has shoulder-length brown hair, like Kristy. All the girls in her books have hair that is brown or yellow or black. None of them have hair that is white and none of them still have their baby-chitin clinging in scurfy gray patches. Only old people have white hair here and nobody at all seems to have the hard second skin that she is still deep in the embarrassing prepubescent process of shedding.

“I said I drew a picture of you,” her classmate says again, and points. She frowns. Does she think she’s dumb or something? Is she making fun of her?

The drawing is simple. White and brown crayon have formed the rough shape of a small girl with long hair, four dark eyes, and the humble beginnings of juvenile hornroots on her brow, surrounded by rainbow squiggles. There is another girl next to her, smiling. They are standing on what appears to be a bright green hill with a tree sprouting from the top and flowers growing in the grass.

“That’s me,” says the young artist, pointing at the smiling girl.

She looks at the drawing, and then back up at her classmate. The girl turns pink- which is strange because humans don’t have their auras on the outside, do they?- and makes a high pitched noise, then runs back to be engulfed by an awaiting huddle of their fellow classmates- her friends, she assumes. They exchange whispers and make some more of those strange, mirthful squeaks and then they leave.

Strange, she thinks, and returns to her book.

The drawing goes in her backpack, carefully slotted between her homework binder and her lunchbox. She’s never had a drawing of herself before.

It feels… pink.

youtube

I recall back in ‘03 seeing a 30-second teaser trailer showcasing samurias fighting in graphic silhouettes and one of the scruffy-looking ones doing a windmill dance sword attack. It ended with a weirdly-named title logo “Samurai Champloo.” It was short and I was blown away, having not known much about it. Those images still in my head, I was determined to find out what that was so I did some research only to discover it was an upcoming series in Japan from the creator/director of “Cowboy Bebop” Shinichiro Watanabe (Space Dandy). 

I finally came across it again on youtube. I haven’t seen this teaser trailer in over 10 years and I still have that feeling of awe seeing japanese animators incorporate Hip Hop music/culture influence into the samurai genre in animation. Good times.