The Origin of Jellybottom

The seed of Mrs. Jellybottom was planted as a lark, an antic, a prank of sorts. It was a lovely Fall, the year my niece was born. We were all sitting around, socializing and chatting about my sister's pregnancy. During the course of the mirth and joviality, my sister, against her better judgment, asked us what she and her husband should name their child. She obviously hadn't learned her lesson from the experience of her previous pregnancy.

One of the creative endeavors I enjoy most is concocting names for characters. I find it can help lay a foundation for the personality of your characters, establishing the expectations you want to impose upon the reader, like a fascist, jackbooted enforcer. I don't like to surprise my readers. They can turn on you. If I ever get around to publishing my first novel, you'll fully understand my sisters' pain. They can turn on you, too. Pregnant women are easily angered. I usually like things that require minimum effort, but there are exceptions.

My first niece was supposed to be named Rowboat, among the various other options. I don't know how my sister rejected that. It seemed so obvious to me, at the time. Now, the niece is all tall and talky, always complaining whenever I try to call her... well, whatever suits my mood of the moment. My second niece is still mostly incoherent, so I can pretty much call her whatever I like. And I like the name Jellybottom. How could you not? I don't think pregnant women want to be happy. How can anyone be angry, after hearing someone say "Jellybottom"? I don't care what the context is.

My girlfriend, not being pregnant, appreciated the name more than others in the room. In the intervening years since that evening, she took a few rats on as pets. One of them was named Dot, another Poopy, and the eldest was granted the honor of bearing the title of Jellybottom. If not initially, Jellybottom ultimately became favored above the rest. I cannot, in good conscience, deny the profundity of the coincidence of this occurrence. Certainly, it was most likely nothing more than coincidence, but does it not give you pause to wonder?

Is there power in a name? Perhaps a name is just a name and irrelevant to the nature of the soul of man. Some cultures believe otherwise... but I don't care, as I've already grown bored of this examination. I named my niece Jellybottom, it didn't take, then named a rat the same, but it was still a rat. Now, the venerable, titular character of this series of adventure comics will continue the legacy. Such is the origin of Jellybottom.

Have no concern. I know exactly how disappointing this is. I promise that future installments in "The History of Jellybottom" will be specific to the back-story of Mrs. Jellybottom and her adventuresome kin, not self-indulgent explanations of how I come up with my "ideas."