EXPLORING THE DARK CRIMINAL UNDERBELLY OF CAMPUS

It was a Thursday night. I was leaving my evening class, Riddles and Mysteries, where I had been ruthlessly critiqued on my cryptogram and trekking the way back to my car. I had my hands shoved into my pockets as cold Long Beach air bit through my weak windbreaker. My phone was still failing to get any service on campus, so I was trapped listening to “Hey Ya” by Outkast on loop. It’s a good song, but maybe this was not really a “Hey Ya” moment.

The escalators on the side of the USU were still not working from when I watched them break this morning under the weight of students on every step. I carefully shuffle down the steep steps (I have this fear of tumbling down them and then no one’s around to help, so I’d just have to wait there until morning, or until the wolves get me).

I make it down safely–or so I thought–when I see a group of figures approaching me. They’re far off, but they look much smaller than they should. I hear the tiniest little synchronized snaps, and from the shadows emerges a bunch of possums in the coolest leather jackets you’ve ever seen. The possum in the front seems to be the leader, with a little toothpick in his mouth.

“Who are youse?” the possum asked in a sneaky little voice, gesturing at all of me.

“I’m a third year art major,” I say out of default. “What’s all this then?” I hear from a much gruffer voice behind me. I turn to see a different gang of raccoons in clean pinstripe suits. The lead raccoon is smoking a big fat stogie (or cigar for those not in the know).

“Big Rick,” the possum said to the raccoon, “this here ‘ooo-suu’ is our turf, take you and yours back

WRITTEN BY CAROLINE SMITH

ILLUSTRATION BY TRICIA VU

April 2023

April Showers Issue

to the library.”

“I’m sorry to say, Polly,” said Big Rick, “But this ‘ooo-suu’ is under new management.”

I began to wonder if they were talking about the Future U thing, but once they started hissing at each other, I caught on that this wasn’t really discussion time.

They started racing towards each other, and I was still in between them. To me, their scuffle was a cartoonish cloud of critters scratching and biting at each other. I tried to inch away against the wall, but a sudden raccoon doing a sick ass roundhouse hit me and I tumbled over the side of the balcony. The last thing I remember is the critters going “ooooh” and “yikes” and “eugh.”

What I woke up to was more jarring than waking up to a statistics class that’s all of a sudden talking about what crimes they’ve witnessed on campus. There was a squirrel peering over my face. It’s teeth were horrible and its breath smelled like Sbarro’s. I brushed it off and sat up. I was sitting in the middle of what I can really only describe as a bustling little goblin and creature night market. There were dozens of little stands of creatures selling their wares. Imagine Week of Welcome but the pathways are 80% more walkable.

Now this is where I assumed that I must have been at a seedy, underground night market somewhere under the school because of the things these creatures were selling. In a corner of the market, I saw the old statue of Prospector Pete. His once bronze exterior now withered and greened, and various coats were hanging from his empty form. At a stall run by some sort of rat, there was a car with about one-hundred parking tickets stuffed under its windshield wipers. He was auctioning it off to some little yappy dogs that were apparently leaving for a trip to Minnesota (based on their shirts and luggage tags that were very Minnesota-based). Another, slimy little creature, was selling coupons for Carl’s Jr and Subway saying, “If you’re paying to eat garbage, you might as well get a discount!” There was also that guy that tries to get you to buy a subscription to the LA Times.

I finally got up (before this was just hunched over in a horribly disfigured slouch) and walked over to a booth advertising new stuff. The new stuff there being tons of Future U standees and vague pamphlets and posters. There was concept art with a diverse student body walking around a big, futuristic building. There I found Big Rick, the raccoon from earlier, smoking a new fat stogie. a generic post-apocalyptic shroud and shawl sort of garb.

“Ahh. You’re awake. Care to make a purchase for this fine Future “Oooh” memorabilia?” he said.

“Wow!” I said. “Steven Spielberg! You went to LBSU.”

“I don’t know what that is,” he turned and left, apparently not needing paprika anymore.

Big Rick smiled and nodded after Steven. Wistfully, like there was a history there. Then Polly (the possum, if you’ll recall) walked up with an arm full of promotional material for the screening of “Bros” from last year, including chapsticks.

“Hey! I’m supposed to be selling to the student!” he said. “You wanna buy one of these?”

Polly and Big Rick now stalked toward me with their wares. There was a lot of tension and an air of competition. I feared that if I chose one of them, the other would be mad enough to chew at my face and give me rabies (and I don’t know if Student Health Services treats that for free).

I had to think of a way out of this that would appease both.

“I don’t even know what it’s about,” I said. “Buddy,” he said in his gruff mobster voice, “Neither do we.”

“Excuse me,” said a voice, “Any chance ya got some paprika?”

I turned around to see who was speaking, and it was Steven Spielberg, notable kinda-almost-alumni of Long Beach State University. He was dressed in

“Look guys, you seem rad, but I don’t have any money outside of my FAFSA. But if I did, I would totally spend it on this,” I said. They seemed disappointed, but appreciated the compliment sandwich. “Exit’s that-a-way,” Polly said, pointing his thumb behind him.

I walked out with an awkward little wave and followed the sign to an escalator. An escalator that wasn’t working.

▲ ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATION

This is a self-portrait that reflects my identity. My mixed ethnicity is shown in the traditional Mexican patterns and the traditional Czech embroidery patterns. The Mexican patterns are mostly native to Oaxaca and found on wood carvings and tile work. The Mexican border is a combination of Aztec designs to form a pattern. The Czech patterns, including the border, mostly stem from embroidery on traditional garbs. The cow obviously connects to my name and I colored it in the style of Pedro Linares, the artist who created Alebrijes. I chose symmetry because there are a lot of similarities between my two halves; there are strong capable women, grandparents who fought in WWII and even other writers who were published in papers on both sides of my family. However, there are also distinct differences between the two, and I’m what connects them both.