Kids have the most OUTLANDISH imaginations.
The authorities, apparently, DON'T.
Call out the Kiddie Keystone Kops...
But picture that imaginative ability quadrupled in the child with undiagnosed Asperger’s Disorder, like me, and you have some idea of the hold of that trait on MY febrile brain.
My grade school teachers used to give us kids creative writing assignments...
My productions were frantically incantory of bizarre and distant mythical events, transmogrified by my rebellious line drawings.
There was a little girl named Sue who attended our class, a distant (socially as well as geographically) neighbour on our street, who would always add the socially acceptable caveat “but it was all a dream” to her inventive creations.
Wow, was I disappointed in her goody-two-shoes demeanour!
A cop-out.
Giving into the enemy: the banal world of adults!
I couldn’t stomach it.
So I did her what I thought was one much better. I wrote my crazy stories as reality - MY reality.
Which elicited nothing but tut-tut’s from my teachers...
Well, Marco’s like that.
He imagines crazy an’ weird things happening on nearby Mulberry Street.
A street full of magical happenings - like the elephant bearing a Pasha’s pillion as it saunters by, on the cover - that only zany kids like me enjoyed.
No, Sue never cared much for Dr. Seuss, and probably never even paused to chuckle over what, to her, were his idiotic ideas, as she gracefully sipped her tea with her parents and polite ADULT neighbours on a placid Sunday afternoon.
But my guffaws over him were loud enough to wake them ALL from their slumber, at the other end of my own imaginary version of Mulberry Street!
Hey - did you spill your tea, Sue?
Just askin’.