Does this have too many big words and too much purple prose?

kids vans backpack image

Funkbot

Alpha-Bits
by E. Frederic

The passersby zipped by sipping coffee on the freeway that ran along the old mill buildings which were being retrofitted with new businesses. Among the additions was a large day care center devoted to the working poor. The sign for Alpha-Bits loomed over the back of the building in advertisement and illuminated the plow sand at night and gave the drug addicts a guiding light. The bricks of the building were the color of coffee and tea and was topped with a exaggerated and large children's block letter displaying the letters A and B.

"Honey, this is where you'll be going after school while daddy and I are working," my mother told me as we exited her red Escort hatchback and I wiped my nose on my Starter jacket. There had been babysitters but not one responsible or sane enough to last more than a couple of weeks. One was a skateboarding kid named Mark who smelled like reefer. Then there was the quasi-schizophrenic Stacy, who threw a cat on my Dad for a laugh and my Dad had gotten his bare back scratched up something fierce.

Stepping out of the car with my backpack, I peered up at the building in which I would be herded daily, along with my crusty-nosed, maple-syrup-in-hair-and-old-milk-on-breath schoolmates in a Ford van after school. The building represented a corrections facility and I felt a man condemned.

Up to this day my life had consisted of a luxury which, I felt at the time, could never be pried my grasp. Staying at home, being fed my favorite sodium-enriched foods, watching cartoon mammals beat the brains out of each other.
Pre-school was only fun and the days spent there were swift. I got to be a little human and go out into civilization on my own for the first time and would routinely receive a Charleston Chew and a Dr. Pepper for my troubles. Then on home for more Macaroni and cheese and price is right and outside-the-lines coloring. And at dinner I would finish my meats and starches and toss the vile vegetables into the trash. And off to sleep to dream the dreams of a small child.

Then there was kindergarten, and the stakes were raised drastically. The first first day of school. Personality. Kids who just wouldn't share in preschool, were now taking shape as bullies. On my first day, when I still had red streaks on my cheeks from rubbing salty tears from them, one such bully took a jab at my back. I would soon learn that the reason he punched, not only my back, but many other boys' backs, was that he felt the sound that it made was pleasant, like a burlap sack loosely packed with meat tossed to the bare earth.

âWatch out little wimp,â he said as he struck. He pretended to be in the bully business for the glitz and glamor and authority, but for him it was all about that little noise. âBhuphfâ

I began to well up with tears again and he forcibly turned me around and gave me a second, (even harder) blow to the middle my back, next to my spine, for he would not punch bone because it did not create the desired effect. I tried to reason with him through my bawling.

âWhu-why, wou-,â taking in a huge breath of air, âwould you do that?â I said, the words bursting forth like a frightened cat from a picnic basket.

âCuz. You're a little whimp. Little whimp. Lil booger!â he replied, and he gave me one final shove as he walked off down the corridor feeling satisfied for the moment. I walked into a classroom where my academic career would officially begin.

My kindergarten teacher, Ms. Abernathy, did her best to introduce us to crude academics and fill the role of mother for us confused and dour youngsters. We read a story about a fox who wore a tophat and a toad who wore a monocle that drove a roadster down country roads to their friend the mallard's home for tea. At noon some smelly rectangular mats were brought out by Ms. Abernathy, and she had a crate of milks for us. We drank the milks, the world dimmed, and pretty soon we were dozing comfortably. Ms. Abernathy had shut the blinds.
âYou kids stay where ya's are and behave!â she said with a fresh smoke in her mouth. I was watched her as she opened the heavy black door that led out to a metal staircase as she lit up into the wind. She noticed my curiosity about her and made a shooing motion with her hand. I got scared and looked away quickly.

I turned my concerns back to the mice on-screen, waves battering them in a scene that was rich in primary color, like all great Disney films, when I heard a little creature next to me make a sound.

âWhat's your name? My name's Kirsten. I like Smurfs,â it said again, clearer this time. I turned to my left and noticed it was female with short blonde hair and a pair of eyes so big they seemed to be bursting from their lids. I stared at her for a moment, unsure of what to say.

âI like Smurfs too. And David the Gnome,â

âYeah,â she said, looking away a bit, seeming as though she may have regretted her decision to speak to me. We both resumed the film
Brenda settled back into the room and reviewed some papers.

There came a moment, when the cartoon swashbuckling and general chaos on-screen had ceased to make room for an onscreen kiss between two mice. When the movie ended and Brenda brought up the lights, Kirsten, unexpectedly, grabbed me by the jaw with her little chicken hands and pressed her lips very hard against mine. A very violating, and especially young first kiss. Despite the violation, however, I suddenly felt elated. Kirsten, on the other hand, pulled away and stuck her tongue out at me and silently put her spread out-hands on either side of her head, looking like a moose with antlers, and ran away laughing like a maniac. And my experiencse with females has fit that same basic pattern.

At 5:00 pm the trial came to an end when my mom came to pick me up in the Escort hatchback. She asked me how my day had been. I had held her up for 15 minutes this morning with my hysterical crying in front of the school's fl
lagpole so she knew that much at leas. I thought about my back bully and became sullen again.

âI hate school. It's dumb,â I said, pouting and glaring out the window as we exited the lot and merged onto Granite St.. The day had become gloomy while our movie was playing.

âDon't say that. You need school. You didn't have fun in your little kindergarten class?â

âNo I didn't. I don't wanna go back tomorrow,â I told her.

âYou don't have to go tomorrow. Just consider yourself lucky that the first day of school fell on a Friday.â

Yes! How could I have been such a fool? The weekend. When my dad would get a couple days' rest to drink beer and curse the Red Sox as they botched late-season games (this was in 1989). The same deal must go for school, and that realization, and the thought of Kirsten, caused a great rush of excitement and optimism in me. No bully or disgruntle childcare professional could take that away from me. Until Monday.

Answer
I stopped reading after the first sentence. Long sentences require flow, and that one just didn't have it. Be careful with information dumps; work the info into the paragraph in an even distribution rather than inserting it all into a single line.

What is your favorite name that is only one syllable in legnth?

U-Dub/BYU

Nicknames of a name (Bill/William and Jo/Josephine) don't count.

Answer
My favorites are Drake for a boy and Bell for a girl :)


Simple, elegant and easy, one-syllable baby names are a great choice.

8 reasons to choose one syllable

1
Versatile
Short names are like black: they go with everything. Long last name or short last name, it doesn't matter. These one-syllable baby names just work.
2
Easy
Short names are easy to remember. Face it. People can be absent-minded. But a nice, short and to-the-point name? They have no excuse for forgetting it.
3
Simple
Short names mean less to memorize, so your kid can save their brainspace for learning other stuff. Long division at age three? No problem.
4
Definitive
Short names are definitive. It's like a great big statement wrapped up in an adorable package.
5
No nicknames
Short names don't get twisted into nicknames. Sure, some people like nicknames. But when you choose your baby's name, it's nice to choose the actual name that people will call them.
6
They fit
Short names can usually be embroidered on just about anything. Initials are nice, but how awesome would it be to have Ava or Finn embroidered in full on their backpack?
7
Classic
Short one-syllable names are classic. They are also elegant, strong and beautiful. What more could you ask for in a name?

8
Confusion-free
Short names are easy to spell. Wouldn't it be awesome if your child wouldn't have to deal with answering to the omnipresent question of, "Could you spell that?"


Little girls are so, so sweet. You want to find a name that captures the nuances of their personality (and really, kids have personality from day one!). If your perfect baby girl name is one syllable long, then this is the list for you. These baby names offer a variety of sweet and sassy ideas for your little girl.

Ann
Ash
Bea
Blair
Blythe
Bray
Brie
Britt
Brooke
Cate
Claire
Dawn
Dee
Elle
Eve
Faith
Faye
Fern
Fleur
Fran
Gail
Gem
Gia
Grace
Gray
Gwen
Hale
Hope
Jade
Jane
Jenn
Jill
Joy
Joyce
Jules
June
Kate
Kaye
Kim
Lane
Leigh
Liv
Lynn
Lys
Madge
Maeve
Mare
Mauve
May
Nan
Nell
Neve
Quinn
Paige
Pearl
Rain
Rea
Reece
Rose
Ruth
Sue
Shay
Skye
Sloane
Starr
Tate
Tess
Trish
Va


Little boys are curious and adorable. They love to explore and crave their mommy's attention. Expecting a little boy of your own? Then you are probably seeking the absolute perfect name for them. If it's a one-syllable baby boy name, then this list is for you.

Art
Beau
Blake
Blaine
Brock
Brooks
Bruce
Cade
Cale
Chad
Chance
Chase
Chet
Clark
Cole
Craig
Dale
Dane
Drake
Dwayne
Finn
Gage
George
Glenn
Grant
Greg
Grey
Guy
Heath
Jack
Jake
James
Jay
Jayce
John
Jude
Kai
Keith
Kent
Kurt
Kyle
Lance
Lloyd
Luke
Lyle
Mark
Max
Neil
Paul
Rhett
Ron
Ross
Russ
Saul
Scott
Seth
Shane
Slade
Tate
Tim
Todd
Tom
Trent
Troy
Van
Vance
Vaughn
Vince
Wade
Wayne
Winn
Zach
Zane

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Title Post: Does this have too many big words and too much purple prose?
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