In order to avoid insulting people, arguments and sometimes even wars it has often been the custom to think before one speaks. If no one contemplated the consequences before uttering the first thing that popped into their heads, conversations (and probably friendships) would tend to end rather abruptly with things like:

“Goodness! Did you mean to wear that? I do hope all the contents of your wardrobe have been stolen and you’ve therefore been forced to create a garment out of your curtains!”

If this were indeed the way of the world, everyone would go around in a sulk, ignoring each other and bumping into each other (accidentally on purpose). This is however not the way of the world (though many people still choose to go around in a sulk, ignoring each other and bumping into each other “accidentally on purpose” simply because they are in a bad mood that day, have deeply unfulfilling lives or are purely not very nice people), and it is considered “rude” to tell people any unpleasant truths about themselves.

However, this is not the custom on every planet in the galaxy. On some, such as the planet Phlerghorifftptalix (loosely translated as Hyphenated Mud Pie) which is located on the outskirts of the Split-end Nebula, it is thought unhealthy to keep such thoughts to one’s self. It is in fact quite normal to see Phlerghorifftptalixuians insulting passers by as they wobble down the street, saying things like: “Call yourself a jelly based being? I’ve seen china vases quiver more than you!” (Their verbal abuse tends to lack imagination as they insult each other so often). To which the common response would be something like “Why thank you, how nice of you to choose me to insult on such a fine morning, you… piece of toast!” The reason for this is that although the molecular structure of Phlerghorifftptalixuians is extremely sophisticated, allowing them to shape shift and adapt to their surroundings, they are also very susceptible to high stress levels. Therefore, if the Phlerghorifftptalixuians did not relieve their pent up aggression in some way, they would almost certainly, yet unfortunately, explode, leaving a mess of pink, raspberry flavoured jelly.

Someone who also thought that it was damaging not to convey her feelings (however rude), but was not a Phlerghorifftptalixuian, as far as anyone knew, was seventeen year old Katy Thompson. She was adopted (discarded by unknown parents) and as a result had a few behavioural problems. Her foster parents where “hippy types” and were all for the expressing of one’s emotions. Katy’s teachers at school, however, were not. Katy had moved school several times due to her articulate opinions but as this was her final year, she could not afford to move again as no school would accept her. The head mistress had told her parents that this was her last chance. She had to show respect to her teachers and fellow pupils, or she would be destined for a career in cash checkouts. Her parents, being completely against super markets of any kind, were appalled by this idea and so remembering the wise words of their mothers, they instructed her: “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all!” Armed with this new and powerful philosophy, Katy set out to school.

It was raining heavily as Katy ran to the bus stop. The sky was so thick and dark with cloud that it left no clue of the pretty blue beneath. She had not noticed the heavy rain as she went about her daily mad rush, trying to eat toast at the same time as brushing her teeth, and had not anticipated the need for waterproofs. However, by the time she had opened the door she was already running late so she ran out into her second (albeit much colder) shower that day.

Upon arriving at the bus stop, exhausted from running and trying to avoid the raindrops, she discovered that she was not as late as the bus! She waited in the freezing cold and pouring rain whilst all the kids that had been there earlier huddled in the bus shelter, or under their sensible friend’s umbrellas. When the bus finally arrived, she could not wait to complain to her friends, but there were no seats left beside them and so she had to sit next to the kid, who in her opinion looked and smelled like something from the eternal bog of ugliness and stench. She would have told him that too, as she had always felt honesty was the best policy, but she remembered her parents’ warnings and heeded them. Sitting dripping wet, freezing cold, with a horrible smell she was sure would stick to her coming from “bog boy”, she felt the hot cloud of tension at the bottom of her throat, just begging to be let out. She swallowed hard as she got off the bus, into her third shower, and walked down the bus lane into school.

Upon entering the building, a group of young charging boys collided with her, one standing on her toes, another sending her folder flying with such force that not only did it feel like being smacked in the face when it smacked her in the face but it also resulted in her incredibly important English notes decorating the muddy, wet floor. Her normal reaction, and, I think, any other normal person’s reaction, would be to scream blue murder. A possible remark, of many, would be something like: “OH FOR GOODNESS SAKE! YOU BUNCH OF LITTLE $#%^&*+=@!!!! A HERD OF BLIND STAMPEDING ELEPHANTS WOULD BE MORE ADROIT THAN YOU!”

However though her natural blinding urge told her otherwise, she began to compose her self, collected her soggy, dog-eared notes, gave the boys a very stern look (which she felt was the least she could do) and said nothing. Though the hot cloud of tension had grown into a storm, burning inside her, a fleeting feeling of pride flew through her as she realised the weight of her self-control. “Perhaps I can do this after all,” she thought, just before stepping onto an unsuspecting banana peel.

Sitting up from the slimy, muddy, wet floor, she regarded what she realised was the reason for her exceptionally sore bum with contempt. Her incredibly important notes were once more strewn upon the floor - clean side down. Doing her best to ignore the stares she could feel boring into her face and the laughter all around, she picked up herself and her notes as the storm inside her grew to a hurricane. With a face like thunder she walked away muttering, “It’s going to be one of those days!”

How right she was as disaster after catastrophe occurred. In her first class, the stool she happened to be sitting on decided right at that moment that it no longer believed there was a purpose to its life and so committed suicide, leaving Katy with another exceedingly sore bum. In her second class, part of the roof above her decided it was bored of holding itself up and quite fancied going inside for a change instead of keeping every one else dry. Unfortunately, this of course caused a sudden gush of water to soak an only just dry Katy. At break time, it seemed that the entire female population of the school suddenly needed the toilet all at the same time and so even though she queued for the whole fifteen minutes she still did not get to use the loo, as she had to run to her next class. In her next class (which was a very long double period), her teacher was in an exceptionally bad mood and decided to give the class a lecture on the importance of not eating worms. One of the first year boys had just thrown up on her and so if she was miserable, everyone else had to be. Therefore, Katy could not go to the toilet as: “You should have gone at break!” Katy spent the whole two hours about to burst until the lunchtime bell rang when she ran like the wind to relieve herself. At this point the hurricane had become thunder and lightning, coupled with a tornado and a few monsoons, yet amazingly, she had still not “opened her mouth to let her belly rumble” as her guidance teacher had once put it. She did not think it wise to venture forth into the jungle that was lunchtime considering how her day had gone so far, so she spent the hour hiding in the toilet cubicle, starving and feeling sorry for herself as she pondered her anger.

It was finally time for her English class which she had been dreading all day as she had the most exasperating teacher in existence on the best of days and well, this was the worst. She really didn’t think her “amazing” self control would be able to hold out and if she bit her lip anymore she’d go right through it! Nonetheless she had to go and so bravely she went to face her impending doom.

“Right class,” her teacher said, with the high pitch squeakiness only a mouse on helium could do justice. “Your notes were due today, hand them over,” she said like an angry mother to her child, demanding their weapon of choice.

“As if we’d want to keep them” Katy thought, severely sarcastically.

“What’s this Katy?” her teacher whined. “These notes are a complete state! Did you take them for a walk in the park first?”

Katy looked at her desperately, her eyes welling up, her cheeks turning red. It seemed as though there was a low rumbling sound coming from Katy’s feet but then distracting from that was the sound one can only describe as the sound of a kettle boiling. It seemed as though Katy’s face was swelling as it found a new deeper shade of red. Another student, quite alarmed, said “You’ve done it now, miss, she looks like she’s gonna explode!”

And then quite strangely - she did. Fleshy pieces of Katy flew every which way, covering everyone in curiously jelly like, pink fluid.

Everyone stared at each other, bewildered, until one of the students expressed: “Mmm, raspberry flavour!”

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