90ways - Fiction

Wanda,

After last night, there are so many ideas floating around my head I need to write them down or I'll forget something. You must know that you threw a lot at me. I'm glad that you've enjoyed the last two weeks we've spent together as much as I have. I had a strong feeling our attraction was mutual and last night it was wonderful to learn I was right.

It was less wonderful to learn that we cannot kiss. Especially since I learned by trying to kiss you and being brained with a wine bottle. If I understood you correctly, and honestly things were still a bit hazy even after we cleaned the glass and blood out of my hair, we can never kiss until I come to accept Wallabism.

At first this seemed a bit doctrinal. To be honest, I was put off. I believe that, in general, ultimatums and demands are no way to start a relationship. Also, I am not interested in getting involved with anyone whose religion can be so constrictive. I know you said Wallabism is not a religion but I'm not sure what else to call it without "belittling it," which I know you hate.

So I've spent all morning looking over the pamphlet and study guide you made me take home last night. As far as I can tell there are two tenets of Wallabism that are especially important to you. The first is, and I quote, "You, your family, the elephants of Asia, the whales of the deep, even the planet we live on, are all parasites in a wallaby-like animal modern scientists have mistakenly classified as 'the Universe.'"

After looking over the sidebar on the Total Life Wallaby and his homeland, Grebestualia (sp?), I think that, of the two tenets, this is the one I can accept most easily. The pamphlet is right that scientists are always revising the theorems and hypotheses of past scientists and I'm no Wallaby/Universe expert, so who am I to say that in a few hundred years this bit of thinking won't be held in high regard?

I especially found the Large Intestine Doctrine to be compelling. Of course, I had never looked at meteorology that way but it makes much more sense than the high and low pressure fronts the weather man on channel 10 will not shut up about. And the bit about tornadoes! Compelling stuff.

Still, I'm not a scientist and I have to admit that I spent the better part of the morning trying to get my mind around the Pubescent Wallaby explanation for the seeming expansion of "the Universe." Once I stepped back and looked at it, it does seem to dovetail nicely with what we now know about the Big Bang and so on. (Have you read the book the reading mentioned? Wallabic Mating and Conception: The True Story of the Big Bang and Our Creation? Sounds fascinating.)

The second tenet of Wallabism that you alluded to is on much shakier ground. I think I see the passage that you're talking about but your interpretation of that to mean that new couples cannot kiss until they have known each other for 11 weeks seems to be a stretch at best. I understand your concerns about causing "intestinal disquiet" and thereby accelerating global warming but, and I read this part several times, the number 11 seems to be made entirely of whole cloth.

I think perhaps you simply want to take it slow for your own reasons and you found this passage reaffirming. "Premature" can be read a number of different ways but I don't think it is referring to a specific timeline. I for one have never felt like a kiss is more mature, more ready to erupt, less likely to cause Wallabic indigestion, than the one that hasn't quite yet happened between you and me.

But Wanda, I am willing to move toward that kiss at any pace. Worst case scenario: it will be two more months before we kiss. I've had such a good time over the last few weeks, I'm willing to wait for it. So, I'm telling you now, whatever else happens I will adhere to Wallabism's school of thought and way of life. It feels good to be on the cutting edge of scientific inquiry. And those conclusions you've come to that I cannot entirely agree with, I can abide by, and, perhaps, in time, come to accept. After all, there are only so many people you really connect with on this colonic wallaby ride we call life.

Love,
Judson

P.S. Call me.