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"No." It seems so easy, doesn't it? Just two letters. One simple syllable. Your standard issue two-year-old can stream that word like broadband. “No no no no no!” I’m sure Mom would tell stories about how I wouldn’t quit saying that word when I was a mere toddling lad. Maybe I used up my share of “no” in my carefree youth, because now I simply can’t say that word.

Okay, so really I can actually say “no.” I mean, come on…

Every morning while I brush my teeth, I stand in front of the mirror saying the word “no” over and over again. Does it help? Put me in front of someone requesting an action of me and “sure” is all I can say. “Maybe,” if I’m feeling particularly spiteful. I can’t say “no” to a living person. Not even to high-quality manikins, no matter how often I try. I guess practicing when I do simply doesn’t help in real situations. Plus it gets the mirror splattered with toothpaste spit. One of the messes I deal with daily.

My inability to say “no” just got me into a new mess. My brother and some of my friends were dependent on a weekly humorous column to make their Mondays bright. Suddenly the writer quit. I’m sure he has his own good reasons and that my letter campaign threatening him, his loved ones, and even his cats will soon bring him back to where he belongs: entertaining us. He’ll learn the error of thinking that anyone in the spotlight can choose to step back out of it. But in the meantime, to fill the breach, I’ve “volunteered” to write up some humor. Actually, I just didn’t say “no” when my brother asked. Well, except to my spit-spattered image in the mirror.

My three loving, ever-cooperative children can still say “no” without any hesitation. Blasted carefree youth. See, my clever idea for my first column was to write about what happened when I taunted my cats.

I don’t have cats.

I needed some fake cats.

I asked my boy Ferdinand (not his real name) if he’d dress up as a cat so I could taunt him. Maybe it wasn’t the best choice of wording.

I tried again with my darling Thumbelina (not her real name), asking if she’d be a dear and dress up like a cat so Daddy could write funny things about her. I even pulled out the cat costume she wore for Halloween a couple years ago, the one that she would have worn to the library and to school back then if I had let her. “Here’s your chance to wear this costume on a normal day.” I think my girl is growing up. She didn’t even say “no.” With that facial expression, she didn’t have to.

Qui-gon (not his real name) was my last chance. I figured he’d play along with me. This boy has no problem doing unusual things: he wears a football helmet -- with full face mask -- to his figure skating classes. This boy has learned much about cats from reading the cat-based Warrior books. And, best of all, this boy is so driven to please people that none of his teachers can keep from gushing the word “sweet” when describing him. He’d sweetly cooperate, I figured. I figured wrong: his “no” was quick and ugly. And I wish there had been a mirror between us when he said it.

So, like any reasonable adult, I turned to stuffing chips into my mouth while mumbling profanities. But then I realized I did know someone who never says “no” to any request, no matter how strange.

And so, for next week’s column, I’ll write about how I felt being dressed as a cat while my children taunted me.

-- I.J. is new to this humorous column thing, but has a good deal of experience writing threatening letters to draw upon.