There’s a lot of name generators out there. You know the kind: Pick from list ‘A’ for the first letter of your name then from list ‘B’ for the month you were born. That sort of thing. So, I thought I’d come up with my own Maldene name generator. Only it doesn’t involve lists.
You can start with your own name, or pretty much any word in the English language that’s about two syllables. Three syllables might be doable, depending on the word, but more than that just ends up a mess. Anyway, here’s the step-by-step.
Step 1: Take your first name and switch the first and last syllables. When you do this keep the letters in their original order.
Step 2: If you have to, re-spell any syllables so they’ll sound just the way they did before in their original order. Also keep in mind that Maldene is a phonetic language.
Step 3: Clean it up by inserting any needed apostrophes or accent marks, and eliminating any silent letters, and you’re done.
Step 4: For single-syllable names, cut the name in half and transpose the two sets of letters. For this you will most likely need that apostrophe. Thus “Mark” becomes Krma, then inserting some appropriate punctuation we have K’rma.
Step 5: For a last name just repeat the above but use your middle name, as most last names could be too long and busy to work effectively.
Okay, some examples:
Susan becomes Sansu
Peter becomes Terpe, or even Terpe’, or T’rpe
John becomes H’njo
Anthony becomes Nythoan
Joseph becomes Sefjo
And so on.
This works perfect with English names and words, but I’m not so sure about other languages, as they’ll just end up sounding like they still came from that same foreign language (using Spanish words, for instance, still sounds to American ears like something Spanish-like).
Well, that’s all for this bit of fun.
I know I can’t be the only one tired of overlapping holidays produced by overactive marketing departments, so to interject a little humor into this madness, I’ve tweaked the popular old Night Before Christmas just a little bit. So below I now present my effort at “the Night Before Generic Holiday”…
‘Twas the night before Halloxmas, when all through the school,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a ghoul;
The pumpkins were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholween soon would be there;
The kids were screaming, all ready with their masks,
While the teachers had green beer hidden in their flasks,
And Mama with her Harlequin, and I with my computerized treasure,
Had just settled down for a long night of pleasure.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I pulled up my pants to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore off the hearts, and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of pavement outsides,
Gave the lustre of midnight to demon hides.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a heart-shaped sleigh, and eight skeletal reindeer,
With a little old ghoul, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than werewolves his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
“Now, Shadow, now Casper, now Ichabod, and Raven,
“On Igor! On Buffy! On Freddy and Craven;
“To the top of the security fence, to the top of the flag pole!
“Now dash away! Dash away! The library’s our goal!”
So up to the rooftop the skeletons they flew,
With the sleigh full of holiday sparklers – and St. Nicholween too:
And then in a drunken haze, I heard from the draw
The scraping and scratching of each little claw.
As I turned off my browser, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholween came with a bound:
He was dressed all in leather, his boots coated in mud,
And his clothes were all stained with someone’s blood;
A bundle of pumpkins he’d secured with a lash,
And he looked like a stoner just opening his stash:
His eyes – how they drooped, his dimples like a crater,
His cheeks were inflamed, his nose even greater;
His droll little mouth was drawn up in a sneer,
And the beard of his chin stank when near;
The stump of a knife he held tight in his grip,
And the blood from its tip occasionally did drip.
He had a rotting face, and a belly of worms
That squirmed when he laughed, and spat out some germs:
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old lich,
I knew if I’d catch him, I’d make myself rich;
With blood in his eye and a skull on his head
I soon came to know I had everything to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
burned all the stockings, then turned like a jerk,
And from his pants pulling out a gun
Shot me in the leg, then turned up the chimney to run.
He sprung to his sleigh, to his team gave a yell,
And away they all ran, like bunnies from Hell:
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight-
Merry Holiday to all, and to all a good fright.
Interview From The Stars
Reba Haws Interviews Candol
After a very long time away for some “vacation time” at the Bellevue Institute For Mental Stability, our intrepid reporter Reba Haws has agreed to do one more interview for our show (we imagine the increased paycheck didn’t hurt either). So here we go with Reba interviewing that coin-flipping priest of Indra, Candol. Good-luck, Reba.
Reba Haws: The check for this thing already cleared, right? Because I’m not doing one more- What? We’re on the air? Oh, I… Ahem. Hello, Maldene fans, this is Reba Haws with an interview with yet another character from the world of Maldene- Do we HAVE to keep on doing that group? Because every time I- Huh? Contract? Paragraph five? Oh, I see, er… Well, anyways, today’s interview is with Candol, an outspoken priest of Indra.
Candol: Excuse me, Miss, but you have that wrong. It is the All Mighty Indra!
RH: Well, okay, but… So, I understand that you make a lot of your decisions with the flip of a coin. Why is that?
Candol: Indra is the sky, Indra is the blanket that wraps around the world and holds you safe, Indra is the whole reason why-
RH: Uh, the coin?
Candol: Indra IS the reason. I trust his hand to guide my coin to show me the way. It is not chance that makes my decisions, but faith!
RH: Okay, sure, but wouldn’t that just limit you to things with only two choices?
Candol: Why should it?
RH: Well, suppose you have a choice of three different ways to go?
Candol (shrugging): It could always land on its side.
RH: You’re kidding, right? Or is this a magic coin?
Candol: I need no magic with which to access the grand wisdom of the All Mighty Indra! Nor do I cast any spell. It is simply the guiding hand of my god.
RH: Okay… sure. Say, perhaps you could give me a demonstration.
Candol: If Indra wishes it. What did you have in mind?
RH: I’m going to a party tonight and I’m trying to choose between my red dress, blue dress, or green dress.
Candol: Simple enough for Indra’s all-knowing eye. Heads will be the red one, tails the blue, and edge the green. Watch and behold the wisdom and power of the All Mighty Indra.
(Candol then takes out a gold coin and flips it up into the air. It bounces once on the table, hits a microphone which causes a deafening screech in the ear of our sound guy, then bullets past Reba’s right ear to hit the wall where it shorts out a piece of wiring in the wall, then bounces back to land on the table spinning around in place. Reba grins.)
RH: Well, looks like your coin has a fault or something. I think you deafened Fred, our sound engineer, and did some damage to the wiring in our wall here. Though at least you missed me.
Candol: Indra has a purpose for everything. And the coin has not yet stopped spinning.
(Just then there is some commotion coming from the booth. A pair of security guards have busted in and are wrestling the deafened sound guy to the floor while a third man comes in behind them rubbing a fresh lump on his head. Reba casts a quizzical look, to which the guy with the lump reaches over to speak into a mic heard in the studio)
Guy With Lump: Uh, Reba, this is Fred. This guy here was pretending to be me. Knocked me on the head earlier. I think he’s a spy from a competing network trying to sabotage our show.
RH: What? B-but- How-
Fred: The guards tell me that if he hadn’t screamed out from the mic feedback then they wouldn’t have stumbled back from the hallway speaker to crash into the closet I was tied up in.
(Candol is smirking; Reba is confused)
Candol: The wisdom of the All Mighty Indra.
Reba: Oh- okay, that’s one. but what about the hole in the wall?
Fred (voicing over again): Oh, and from what he’s telling the guards, he may have planted a few bugs in this place as well.
(Reba looks over to the sparking hole in the wall)
Reba: Naw, can’t be.
Candol: My coin. Wear the green dress.
(Reba looks over at the coin; it has stopped spinning and is now standing still on edge. Reba’s eyes bug out)
Reba: But, how… Okay, never mind that. It’s just a coincidence… Now, as I understand it, you are quite the outspoken proponent of this Indra person and have performed several miracles in his name.
Candol: Indra is not a mere PERSON, he is lord over the sky, he is the rain from the firmament, he is life, he is lord over us all.
(As Candol is preaching, the studio starts to shake)
Candol: Indra is the gentle guiding hand, yet also the firm fist of authority to his enemies.
(Studio shakes even more. Reba starts looking nervously around, ready to duck for cover.)
RH: Uh, Mister Candol? I think-
Candol: I am proud to be his humble servant, the preacher of his word…
(A couple of lightbulbs pop, something falls off a shelf, and the guys in the booth are diving under the benches)
Candol: …Besides which, he smells nicer that most gods. Also, there are no celibacy vows, which I find works out rather nice.
(Candol ends by smiling calmly at Reba, who for her end is trying to keep a shelf behind her from spilling over as the shaking increases.)
RH: Uh, all very nice, but if you’re finished with the preaching, I’m sure everyone would really appreciate it if you turned off the special effects. Before we shake apart here.
Candol: Oh, Indra is not given for such ostentatious displays.
RH: Then what about all the shaking?
Candol (glancing around): Off hand, I’d say that you’re having an earthquake.
RH: What? I’m from the east coast, the ground shouldn’t move like this! Is there anything you can do about this?
Candol: Earthquakes? No. Indra is lord of the sky, you see. Not my area. But don’t worry, if you get injured or killed then I’ll be glad to heal you right back up or return you to life. If the coin-flip comes up heads, of course.
RH (rolling her eyes): Oh, of course.
(The shaking dies down, during which Reba quickly fixes her hair, trying to look as professional as she can… if a bit jittery)
RH: Well, that wasn’t too bad. I usually come out pretty bad in these interviews with you guys.
Candol: So, I have been told, and this humble servant of the All Mighty Indra apologizes for any inconveniences.
RH: Oh, don’t worry; I’ve had it a lot worse with some of you other guys. Boy, if these walls could talk.
Candol (brightening): Not THAT is very good idea!
RH: Uh oh. What did I just say?
Candol (raising hands high as he invokes): All Mighty Indra, give speech to these walls that we may hear of what trials this poor unfortunate woman has been suffering through.
RH: No, that’s perfectly okay. You don’t have to-
The Wall directly behind Reba, now growing big lips and talking: She really has been through a lot, you know.
Reba (spinning around): AAAK!
The Left Wall: Yeah, you should have seen that one time with old Po. Never been the same since.
RH: The w-walls. Th-th-th-
Right Wall: Yeah, just like that.
The Floor: Well, don’t ask for any sympathy out of me. Always walking on me, no appreciation at all.
(Reba screams, jumping up onto the chair, then bracing her hands against the ceiling)
Ceiling: Hey, hands off!
Candol: Oh, I’m sorry, I only asked for the walls to speak. The rest of you will have to be quiet; I think you’re disturbing the poor girl.
Chorus from all walls, ceiling, and floor: Sorry!
(Reba shrieks, dives onto the desk, spilling some audio equipment over, the result of which has the sound guy in the booth immediately ripping his headphones off, then she curls into a ball whimpering.)
Left Wall: Yeah, just like that when she interviewed Po-Adar. Sad, really to see a news person fall apart like that.
Candol: Obviously she is having a flashback to that dreadful experience. Perhaps if you all start singing a soothing lullaby to calm her while I apply the healing touch of the-
Chorus again: We know, the All Mighty Indra.
(Candol gives a miffed look all around, then stands up)
Candol: Just sing.
(As the walls go into a stirring rendition of American Pie, Candol reaches out to lay a hand on Reba’s head, muttering calming invocations under his breath while Reba stammers something out that we think goes like this…)
RH: Not enough. No amount of money is enough. Pink little flying grapefruits. Marching pancakes. Mustn’t touch, the walls have ears, you know… LITERALLY!
Candol (into a microphone): I am afraid that this may take a while. Perhaps someone should cue the show’s theme.
Chorus (all walls, floor, ceiling, and one or two chairs): …Bye bye, Miss American Pie, drove my chevy to the levy, but the levy was dry…