​- Mouse Brown Henry -

Prose, including snippets (mini-memoirs).
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​- Mouse Brown Henry -

Post by Terri » March 19th, 2018, 5:42 pm

​- Mouse Brown Henry -

"It's just such a dumb nickname. ​Getting called after a bad hair color?
I mean, what if people started calling you 'Greasy around the edges',
or you, 'Unsightly facial hair', or 'Weird with a beard'.
Right? Tell me you'd like that," Henry said.
"Try mine", said Vast Eddie. "I was a kid when some genius dreamed mine up."

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Re: ​- Mouse Brown Henry -

Post by stilltrucking » March 20th, 2018, 12:30 am


CB handles were weird, why would someone call himself, Chester the Molester, or did other drivers give him that handle? :shock:
Semi-crazy was one of my favorites.
I used to be smiling jack.

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Re: ​- Mouse Brown Henry -

Post by sasha » March 21st, 2018, 2:09 pm

I was granted the title Queer Boy Roy at my 1st full time job - not for my romantic inclinations, but because it met the dual requirements of needling me, and was nicely alliterative. It was eventually abbreviated to QBR, and then just "Cubie", or "Cubes".

My childhood nickname was Sandy (from my middle name, Alexander) and I HATED it. I have a clear memory of my 1st grade graduation - held out on the playground on a warm, bright spring day, with all the proud parents seated on folding metal chairs. As we paraded past them, I could hear my mother calling "Sandy! Sandy! Over here!" - and I refused to acknowledge her. I didn't want anyone knowing that I was the one called Sandy - it was a girl's name, fer Chrissake. She kept calling, but I just steadfastly ignored her - until I made shushing gestures behind my back, promptly blowing my cover.

I was Uncle Roy in high school, but every guy was called "Uncle". At my penultimate work gig I was Doc. Lately my sibs have taken to calling me CBR - Cherished Brother Roy, after a smarmy description of us in the obit of a relative, who couldn't stand the very sight of us, as his "cherished" nieces & nephews.

We've been calling my younger brother Baby Jesus, because in convincing our mother that the time had arrived for assisted living, we had to resort to good cop/bad cop, and Brian got to be good cop - the one who could do no wrong, the one she could complain to about her other two horrible spawn, the bad cops. That's evolving into Baby J, or occasionally, Sweet Baby J.
I'm not an outlier. I just haven't found my distribution yet.

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