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Dixon Wall C

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The S T O P sign
By Dixon Wall C
Friday, May 08, 2009

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This is a tale about a personable stop sign as he or she goes from birth to young adulthood. It's probably for children.

    Upon a sharp ridge in the outback,  A STOP-sign was born, a little baby STOP Sign.   It was me.  At first I couldn’t even stop tricycles,  My first name is “STOP.”  My full name is “STOP  Sign.”  When I got a little bigger, I could stop the smaller tricycles.   Then,  I tried to stop cars, but they rolled up their windows, and pretended not to notice me.  I thought about the day when I would be as big as my daddy,  who is a telephone pole.  He hails from a long line of telephone poles.  Get it?  My mother is a street light, also from a long family tradition, and they met in something called an “intersection.” Now everyone knows that telephone poles are some of the stateliest folk around.  They march in great numbers,  Oh!  How they lumber, over the tundra,  and into the unpeopled tefrickland.  I’ll bet when I grow up, those people won’t be able to ignore me!  But for now, I just have to eat my vegetables, and uh, vegetables.  And more vegetables.  You see, I eat only vegetables, because my diet is made up of what grows on the roadway.  And it’s mostly a little bland, except when somebody like Mrs. Grackle plants poison ivy next to me.  Mmm, delicious.  Things I enjoy these days are counting cars, and playing peep-I,  and arguing with tricycle-drivers.  Sometimes they make a rolling stop, and I shout STOP!  It’s about the only thing I can shout, and I can’t whisper it.  If you look real close, I have a beautiful pair of eyes, right on top of the “ö.”     When I got a little bigger, I started learning my ABCs.  Mom would make big trucks stop, and I could see the letters on the sides of the trucks.  When no one was looking, I would turn my head to get a better look, myself.

    Then, when I was a teen-ager, in STOP sign years, I knew just about everything.  I was ready to take on the world.  Someone asked me how to spell “Super-Cali-fragilistic, expialidocious.”  I knew the answer.  It’s “STOP!”  Go ahead, ask me another hard question. ”

 Ask me to quote Pi.  I can do most of it.  Here goes: “P”.

    When I got even older, I met the love of my life, a “YIELD” Sign.  She has a beautiful I.  I call her “Yielda.”  I met her at our intersection.  Two big roads cross, and another, smaller road is where she  works.  It comes in at an angle.  And, speaking of angles, did you hear the one about the guy who said, "Let's make a quick 360 and get out of here?"  Well, he did it at my intersection, and I shouted "STOP."  Naturally, he rolled up his windows and played like he couldn't hear me.  But I winked at mom, and she radioed a friendly helicopter, and it landed on top of that guy's car.  That'll teach him!

    When I got a little older, I asked Yielda for her hand in marriage.  She said, “OK,” and then I realized that I’d have to settle for a virtual hand.  So, we arranged through my parents to have a preacher drive by to tie the knot.  A virtual knot, since it’s really hard to tie knots in our support poles.  We just have to do what we can.  After a while, Yielda and I had some little ones.  There was Chuck, the Children Crossing Sign, and Wally, the Water Crossing Sign, and Bridget, the Bridge Ahead Sign, and Regina, the Right Turn Only Sign, and Bill, the Post No Bills Sign, and right now, we’re anticipating.  We’ve got a name picked out, if it fits.      

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