Our theme for the month of September is Alphabet Soup. Each writer was assigned a letter and will title their post “___ is for ___.”

Picking a present proves painful for me, particularly for my plemyannitsa. For her primary period of the presiding, portly, philanthropic Patron of the Polar pole, I had plenty of preliminary plans, but nothing palpable. Before I peened my pate in passionate paroxysm, I plodded onto the perfect product.

Patient until the prescribed point, I then pressed the plain papered parcel into her puerile, pudgy phalanges. “You’ll probably postpone your preference of this until peak perspicacity.”

She paused her preening to paw the proffered package, then peeled the paper with her parents’ provision. Our peerage peered at the prominently presented profile of a primer.

“P is for Pterodactyl,” they proclaimed, perusing the painted pictures and partaking in a pleasing pneumatic performance. They pinned me with their peepers. “So you.”

A predictable and prestigious promulgation. My partiality for the profound and persiflage prevails since pubescence. P is for Pterodactyl purports to be a poor proxy for progenical pedagogy. The portfolio presents a portion of phrases which pervert proper pronunciation. Peculiarities such as ‘phlegm,’ ‘psoriasis,’ and ‘Ptolemy’ pop up. Plenty more permutations proliferate.

The pith is, with such a prevalence of this phenomenon, preparation is paramount—preeminently for philobiblists. Pronouncing a palabra we have only perused can provide perpetual penitence. 

My pick, P is for Pterodactyl, is a preemptive plan to protract my plemyannitsa’s phonemes. As her predecessors are predominant proponents of prose, I predict she too will proceed in parallel. I plot for my precious, precocious peacherino to be primed.

The precedence of her progenitors postulates proof of her pedigree. Her parlance must be of a paragon, not a pariah, and never a pabulum. Should she palaver, perambulating from the pandects of her precursors as a peripatetic, proper parameters will be passed to patch her peccadillo. 

Practice is the only path. In public, people will not pause to permit a peroral peripeteia. Peccants are pushed to the periphery where they perceive a paradoxical paradigm. Publicizing our presumptions can perforate us. A patulous psyche can be panned or parodized. Paralysis or paranoia might present itself as a payoff. To put pubescents (as well as those pre- or post-puberty) into such a position should be prevented and prohibited. 

Per contra, pathos possesses its own parallax. A pragmatist would point out parasites present among the population who parley to pare, panic, and pain. They pollute with their penumbrae and pad their personage. My punditry presents a possible purchase.

Our palabras must pile to produce a paleate palladium to protect from prevaricators. To be a penny in a pluvial place. To permeate, as a pathogen, the plebian pallor and placate, as a penultimate panacea. To be a paean of praise. To puzzle the private pieces of the physical plane. To pardon a plurality of putrid, pugnacious problems.To print and preserve paragraphs. For a pantisocracy of phraseology. For pulchritudinous puissance. For the procreation of permanence and paradise and professionalism.

Perhaps this post will be perceived as a paralogism, or at pittance, periphrastic. Your proscription pertains. But—a precaution—do not be prejudiced. My prerogative was purely positive. The precision of penning all p’s precipitates much pressure, even for a prolonged pedagogical pun. Please palliate any predatory proclivities and ponder my prevailing prevenance!

Kyric Koning

Kyric Koning graduated in 2013 with degrees in English, writing, and classical studies. He is a curious individual (with a deep fondness for the parenthetical) who haunts the Grand Rapids area and works several jobs, but considers writing his primary one. He enjoys dichotomies, pluralities, and conundrums of all sorts, playing games (all sorts), reading (all fantasy), and observing the world and (all) its inhabitants. If he’s not working or sleeping, he’s probably writing one of his many novels.