Skip to content

An idiotic parental unit


When I was a larva, wriggling around and clinging to the nutrient-soaked rocks in my incubation tank, I used to watch the recordings from our great Empire’s starships, as they explored distant planets and discovered new things.

I wanted to be a starship pilot in the worst way. I imagined the places I would visit, the organisms I would meet, the knowledge I would acquire. I wanted to transport my comrades safely across the vast depths of interstellar space, and to bring back strange and wondrous treasures and information. I wanted to bring glory to the Empire.

Imagine my disappointment when, as a school-aged juvenile, less than eighty percent of my eyes passed the vision tests required for starship pilot training. Never mind that instrumentation and computers guide our ships, which don’t even have windows to see out of anymore. It did not matter how fast my reflexes were, how good my memory of star charts was, or how motivated I was to be the best officer and pilot I could be. The Imperial Navy was not interested.

To be honest, there are not that many ships, so the need for pilots is not great. Some of the pilots I have met are at quite an advanced age. The turnover is very slow.

As it turned out, I did get to see at least one other planet, which is more than many of us get to do. I have been fortunate.

A few years ago, one of my parental units sent me a birthday gift. It was a toy remote-controlled starship. 

“When you were a larva, you wanted to be a starship pilot,” the note accompanying the gift read. “This is as close as you’re going to get.”

That particular parental unit has always been defective. I’ve always hoped that I was adopted, because I feel queasy when I think that I share RNA with it. I’ve come to expect bad behavior from it over many years of experience, but this was quite beyond the pale.

I sent the gift back in a fit of pique, with a note to the effect that I didn’t want any more gifts, period. Ever. Thankfully the parental unit has honored that request since then.

It’s been several years since that happened. But yesterday I woke up remembering that day, and I have been in a sour mood ever since.

I must think about something else.

  1. PerpetualSharon permalink
    2012-02-08T11:03:25-05:00 11:03

    I am divorced from a defective parental unit. It is sad that my offspring will one day, most likely, experience this same phenomenon. Right now, said defective parental unit is still on his pedestal because he lives in another galaxy and has very little interaction with the larvae to contradict their notions of his grandeur.


  2. 2012-02-08T08:38:22-05:00 08:38

    Yes, you need to think of something else. Maybe you could figure out why I have a defective sibling.


  3. 2012-02-07T22:16:44-05:00 22:16

    People should need a license in order to procreate.


Comments are closed.

%d bloggers like this: