The Snark

A long time ago, before Sarcasm or Wit, there existed a creature known as the Snark.

The Snark was a hilarious little animal that never could quite figure out what species it was supposed to be. It clearly wanted to look like a porcupine, with dangerous, spiny quills, and yet it did not even take a close inspection to discover that the quills were fake. The Snark’s fur was actually quite soft, and when wet, the Snark had a closer resemblance to a black chipmunk, though it lacked the front teeth.

No one quite knew what to make of the Snark, nor did it quite know what to make of itself. Fellow rodents and the occasional canine took passing interest in it, but never for very long. Some feared their quills, until they learned the truth. Some found their fur quite nice, but never nice enough to stay for very long.

You see, the Snark was kind of an annoying little bugger. When it made a joke, one could never really tell whether it was trying to be funny, or insulting, or just teasing. In fact, it was trying to be all of these, because it feared being any one of them. Those who found humor in them would soon suspect that they were being made fun of, and would leave. Those who found them insulting would soon decide that it was light-hearted and forgive them. Those who put up with being teased often decided after a time that it really wasn’t all that funny.

And so it passed, that no one would love the Snark. They did not join, they did not have children, and their numbers greatly diminished. It was not long until there were only two left, a boy, and a girl.

“We should probably settle down and have a family,” he mused, “now that you’re the last girl in the world and all.”

“Well that’s flattering,” she sighed.

“Aw, don’t take me seriously,” he said quickly, “I really like you.”

“Like?”

“Well…maybe…love you?” He murmured, “Y’know, love is blind and all that.”

“What, am I ugly?”

“No way,” He assured her, “you’re the most beautiful girl in the whole world!” This made her smile warmly, but the seriousness of the situation made him greatly uncomfortable. So he added, “not that you’ve got much competition.”

“Ok. That’s it.” She snapped, and turned to storm off.

“Wait! You can’t!” He shouted.

“Why? For the good of the species?” She spat.

“Well…maybe for the good of me a little…” He muttered pathetically. She turned and looked him in his beady little rodent eyes.

“Tell me you love me. Tell me you find me beautiful,” She said quietly, “And mean it. If you can do that, then I might just stay.”

There was a moment then, an opportunity. The fate of this race had not yet been determined, a choice was available. And yet in the end, he found himself unable to make that choice. She waiting through his silence until she was satisfied it would not be broken, and left him forever.
And so the Snark passed into the night; romantic and unromantic, alive and dead, and unable to choose between two of anything up until this very day.