Bold Symmetry

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Category: Pompo Omallo

Pompo Omallo (CHAPTER 3)

“You need to turn Stylid’s story into $$$.”

Pompo Omallo Goes to Find Gerrymander Hound in Jickly Forest and Why IS He Doing Those Jumping Jacks?!!

“Name it Pompo Omallo. Sounds better.”

Front cover. Either that or this:

“Definitely the second.”

But the first is Pompo.

“And the second is Quacko Ducker?”

No. That’s Spingle. And he’d be really offended if you called him a duck.


Then it’s decided!

Pompo Omallo (CHAPTER 2)

“What happened?”

What happened when?

“Yesterday. I forget.”

Oh, you’re worried about Pompo Omallo’s vow of silence and how he will able to find Gerrymander Hounder in Jickly Forest without being able to call for him.

“Okay was that… whole story thing… from you?”

No, it’s from Mr. Stylid. I told you.

“Okay but who the fuck is that?”

Some guy at last year’s county fair. He won Biggest Eggplant 2013.

“Is this real?”

Yes, this is real.

“Why would he randomly message you about Jockey Forests and stuff?”

He didn’t message me. I ran into him at the farmer’s market yesterday and he told the end of the story.

“You ran into him at the farmers market…”

And he told the end of the story. He left it last time while Pompo was still jumping jack. He wanted to inform me it had come to an end.

“Why didn’t you just get his number the first time to call him about it instead of waiting to run into him again, huh?”

Because the whole story sounded fucked… And this is a guy that competes in eggplant competitions. Not someone I want to have the digits necessarily. Goodnight.

“What? What the flip?”

You don’t care about Pompo.

“I do.”

Fine, so to recap. Pompo Omallo. Known as Jack by kids at recess of Tinkle Elementary. Has been doing jumping jacks for going on 17 years. Since late 1997. Feet shredded up. The story of how this started, told to me by Mr. Stylid, begins in Jickly Forest.

“You told me this. Did you make that up?! Or someone really did?”

I’m recapping for you. Someone did. Pompo trying to find his race-fueled yet often silent doggy Gerrymander Hound. Pomp can’t call out to him because he took a vow of silence after the death of his Uncle Lake Sweater, fondly referred to by his name because he lived by a pond and always wore cardigans. And Mr. Stylid seems to think his friends who gave him the name must have had poor diction –

“But who wrote this?”

No one has written it. I’m writing it now. And so, as the story happened. Pompo got lost in the silence of the forest. And in his own silence. Unsuccessful in finding Gerrymander, he was alone as a potential prey for the nocturnal Jicklies –

“So someone wrote this and you’re continuing it?!”

No one wrote it. Someone told me. I’m trying to tell you it. The sign on the front of the forest clearly read: THIS IS A FOREST. But that sign isn’t important to the story. There was another sign that was though –

“I like how you keep trying to tell and it and I’m interrupting.”

And the other sign read: IN THIS FOREST WE EAT YOU AT NIGHT SO LEAVE BEFORE SUNDOWN IF YOU DON’T WANT THAT. DUN DUN DUNNN. As Pompo walked through the forest, minutes before sundown, he thought to himself, “Here comes the dangerous part of this fucked up story.”

Jickly Forest: The Legend of Pompo Omallo (CHAPTER 1)

“Pmpoo omallooooo….”

Pompo omallo has been doing shoeless jumping jacks since age 7. Now 23, his feet have been worn down to the heel, frightening Sligo Mishmosh and his ragtag crew of scalawags on the squash court at recess. That’s the ending of the story. Goodnight.


“23 at recess is pretty scary.”

Well, Tinkle Elementary and the ongoing recess had formed around Pompo, but the area had in fact been a mushroom grove in Jickly Forest when Pomp began his jumping jack routine some 16 years earlier… Pompo, or Jack, as Sligo’s crew referred to him, had been traversing Jickly Forest in late 1997, searching for his lost racist canine, Gerrymander Hound.

“I would like the story to continue. How was this story conceived? Is this yours?”

I wouldn’t say it’s mine.

“But you made it… Greymander would’ve been a better name that Gerrymander.”

No, I heard it from someone, but there is much more to be told. I’ve just begin to recount it to you.

“From who did you hear it from?! Did you just change the names?”

The story was passed on to me by Seymour Stylid at last year’s county fair. Gerrymander was her real name. And for good reason. All other names have been changed as to maintain the privacy of those originally involved and also because original names were too strange to be believable.

“Who the fuck is Seymour?…”

He told me half at last year’s county fair and I just heard the end right now when I bumped into him at the farmer’s market. And what an end it was.

“Whaatttttt? Explain.”

I have been. Pomp was looking for ol’ Gerrymander in Jickly Forest, late 1997. Now the problem was that Gerrymander was a silent pup who only spoke when spoken to. And this wouldn’t’ve been an issue if it weren’t for the fact that Pomp had taken a vow of silence with the death of his now late Uncle Lake Sweater. Apparently they called him this because he lived by a pond and wore only cardigans for 16 years. When I asked Seymour why they hadn’t called him Pond Cardigan, he just laughed at me as if I were joking and I should’ve already known.

“WHERE IS THIS COMING FROM? From your mind?!?!?!”

How could I tell you something not from my mind, sweetie. Now sit on down and have a cocoa. Worry less. I brushed the Lake Sweater/Pond Cardigan name change off as if it didn’t matter. Just some result of family and friends who didn’t think much of words or getting the right ones. Or perhaps there had already been a pond sweater in Uncle Lake Sweater’s town of Chattanooga (not the one in Tennessee obviously). Either way there was a certain ring to Lake Sweater so I went with it. Said the man had worn sweaters to bed, sweaters to work on the fields, some said even a sweater on while he showered. And so they buried him in one. A cardigan, I mean. And right by the lake. I mean pond.



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