The ballad of the semicolon

There once lived an independent clause. She was the fairest of all the clauses and lived in a field of subjects, nouns, and verbs. She invoked quite a bit of jealousy from the other clauses who got less attention. Even her cousins who expressed the same ideas were less gallantly dressed up and got shoved into the background.

The independent clause--let's call her Sen-Tance--had a cousin. Let's call him Bob. Bob grew frustrated with all the attention Sen-Tance was getting from all the peasant readers, so he hatched a plan. Since he and Sen-Tance were related, Bob surmised that they could get attached by their dog Semicolon, people would view them as on splendid idea, and all would be right with the world.

The trouble was, although Sen-Tance and Bob were related, their ideas couldn't have been farther apart. As Bob tried to thread their ideas together into one attention-grabbing clause, he couldn't help but notice Sen-Tance was doing her best to sabotage his plan. While discussing Semicolon--the new puppy their Uncle Deelogue had bought them--Sen-Tance claimed that "puppies are the cutest thing in the world."
"They bite your bum," Bob argued, realizing, after it was too late, that this is what the peasant reader was subjected to:

"puppies are the cutest thing in the world; they bite your bum."

Now, unless someone had some strange butt-biting fetish, this statement would confuse the wits out of these peasant readers! Not only that, but through working together, Sen-Tance and Bob had only clamored for more attention. Sen-Tance's piece always had to be at the beginning, always had to be the "bam" part of the piece; by the time Bob got his two cents in, he was merely an afterthought.

That, and two cents doesn't even get you a piece of gum, much less afterthought status.

A week passed, and Sen-Tance and Bob continued to contradict each other, leaving a highly messed up story for the reader at hand:
"I'm going to the store; what about the living room that needs to be cleaned?"
Perhaps it was the fact that Uncle Deelogue had left for a vacation in Paris. Or that Semicolon was content to chase after frisbees and let everything get smushed together. Whatever the case, Sen-Tance and Bob just couldn't agree. And thus began the journey of the confused reader. Whenever the two cousins turned to their pet dog for help, Semicolon would simply push their problems together and go gnaw on some bones.

Bones ruin plot points. Remember that, people.

One day, Sen-Tance and Bob were taking Semicolon on a walk. They refused to talk, resisting farther complications that would anger village readers. They stopped by a lake where Semicolon took a long drink and began to play with two other dogs--a golden retriever and a chocolate lab. The owners waved from across the lake, and the cousins, who listened enough to their mothers to realize the importance of introductions, walked across to properly introduce themselves and their dog.
"Lovely weather, isn't it?" Sen-Tance mused.
"The sun really is shining," Bob answered, pleasantly surprised. Already their discourse had more sense.
The owners looked up from their picnic lunch of pickled pickles (how can you farther pickle a pickle, Sen-Tance wondered?) and pet Semicolon behind his ears.
"Who is this precious guy?" the owner asked.
"This here is semicolon," Sen-Tance answered. "Who are these lovely canines?"
"Their names are But and And," the owner answered. Before any of the humans could realize what was happening, But started tugging at Semicolon's collar; And ate him.

Sen-Tance and Bob were devastated. But as soon as the other owners gave the cousins But and And to console them, their problems started going away. Just as Bob started arguing about the worth of puppies, he'd look to But for a solution to the problem, and it just took one easy fix:
"puppies are the cutest thing, but they bite your bum."
Sen-Tance and Bob were instantly happier with the addition of But and And. They still shone in the same sentence, but their conflicting ideas were no longer irreparable. They realized that it was a mistake to adopt a dog that required more maintenance and attention before adopting less high-maintenance dogs who could fix their differing views with one simple word.

And thus, the ballad of the semicolon was created:
Semicolon was a loving dog; he nurtured many-a-writer
He let equally important people have equally impressive reputations
But and And were simple creatures, but that made them no less loveable
They were simply a first step into the dog raising world.

Sen-Tance and Bob loved Semicolon, But and And equally, but they knew there was a time and place to care for each canine.

Semicolon will live on in our hearts and our writing--but if you're reading "The Idiot's Guide to Dog Raising," please adopt some Buts and Ands before taking on the hyperactive canine that is Semicolon.

Namaste.