How We Got Our Names

A Pointless Report by Maximum Ride

In some tribes around the world, like in Africa and stuff, there are traditions where the parents let their children pick their own names. It symbolizes individuality and personal freedom, or something like that. I don't know, I don't actually live in one of those tribes—but, I did get to pick my own name.

There's an awful lot of back-story to go with this, but basically, my DNA was mixed with avian DNA before I was born (Props to evil white-coats on that one), giving me huge wings on my back. The same thing happened with the rest of my Flock. Five years ago, we broke out of there with the help of an Evil-and-then-Good-then-Dead-then-Evil-again-but-now-sort-of-Good-or-at-least-trying-to-convince-us-so scientist, Jeb, we escaped.

Besides numbers identification apparatuses, the evil laboratory where we were raised (in dog cages) didn't give us names. So, we got to name ourselves. This is the story of how we got those names. Which, might I remind you, I am recording involuntarily. I hate you, Jeb.

Let's start with the youngest, Angel. Her story is pretty simple: with her sweet personality, corkscrew blond locks and baby blue eyes, she looks like an angel child - not to mention she could probably get whatever she wants from any one of us by shooting us the Bambi eyes. We sort of chose the name for her, really, because she's the youngest.

Gazzy is next. His full name is The Gasman, which was rightfully earned due to his, um, superpower. Yes, anyone who can create a mushroom cloud of their own bodily odor deserves the nickname Gazzy, trust me. He liked it because he thought it sounded like a superhero, so it stuck like glue.

Nudge's is a little more complex. Back in the day when we were trapped in the School, she shared a Great Dane-sized cage with Iggy. Iggy, due to Nudge being a complete chatterbox, ended up giving her subtle elbow when she was irritating him with her blabber, or had said too much. The move was called the Nudge, and eventually the nickname was translated to her. We dropped the 'The' a while back, because Nudge is cuter than The Nudge, which just sounds like a wrestling maneuver.

Iggy doesn't like me to tell the story of his name, because it's a little embarrassing. Whatever. This is between me and Jeb, who is forcing me to write this as a part of Max's Home School (I thought that ended ages ago?). Anyway, back in the School, they showed us little kid shows when we were little to see if we developed like human kids—if we liked the same shows and stuff. Anyway, after watching a Muppet's special, Iggy tried to say Miss Piggy, but having the adorable lisp of a six-year-old, it came out as Iss Iggy. That shortened to Iggy after a while.

Fang…no. I'm not doing that one, Jeb, and you know it. I'm only writing this because Mom agrees that it's a good idea. You can't force me to do anything.

Me, then. Maximum Ride - Max, for short. The "Maximum" part was because I'm a rebellious person. Once upon a time, in a place not-so-far-away called the School, a scientist was writing up a report on my progress. She called my behavior of minimum success, which of course pissed me off. Now most of America knows me as Maximum—or one of the bird kids, but that's beside the point. Anyway, the Ride part came from the astronaut, Sally Ride...she could fly, too.

There. Are you happy, Jeb? I finished this stupid little report. It's on you, though—I could have been "saving the world," or "preparing for the apocalypse" or something, for the past hour and a half instead of sitting behind Ella's laptop, listening to Dylan and Iggy watch Family Guy. So, whatever.

The End

(Or whatever I'm supposed to say at the end of papers. Still hate you, Jeb. Just thought I'd take this opportunity to make that clear, again.)