Oxford Comma Spring 2025 by buckley5

DedicatedtotheSeniors

ClaraG

MichelleG

MilesG

LikeG

MayaG

HarrisonH

EzraI

NoahJ

JonathanK

CharlieK

DylanK

MitchellK

JonahK

LiubovK

EthanL

RyanL

JasmineL

HarrisL

MaliL

ConnorL

HonorM

TyreeM

QuinnM-W

BennettM

ChristianM-R

SarahM

DominicM

MaggieM

EllingtonM

ArdenM

KylaiahM

AbrahamM

NobleM

StellaM

CaseyN

ConnollyN

LaurenP

ZohaP

AbbyP

SpencerP

LiamP

EthanP

AsherP

AlexanderR

JustinaR

LucyR

AdamR

PhilippeS

MatlynS

MadelineS

AmmanS

LilahT

AntonioT

ZacharyV

SamW

WolfgangY

RemyY

Blankpageonbacksideof seniordedication

EditorialCommittee

Eliana A-K’25

Cora B ’25

Celine C ’27

Ruby G ’27

Maggie M ’25

Arden M ’25

Avery P ’26

Zoha P ’25

Asher P ’25

Philip S ’27

Antonio T ’25

FacultyAdvisor

Ms. O’Driscoll

FrontCover

Mr. Park

BackCover

Asher P

LowerSchoolArtWork:3rd&4thgraders

Hexapus, SteveU

Untitled ZaiyaA

Myaveragenotebookisfilledup

50%sketches,30%workand20%withrandomlines

ThoughIwriteanoccasionalstory

It’smostlyjustwhatcomestomind

Itriedtoworkandthinksmartthings

Mybrainistoopreoccupied

Toodistractedbytheshapes

Theperfectpaintingsthroughmyeyes

I’mpiercedwiththoughts

Icannotfocus

Agirl,aboy,orjustabeast?

Thenakedwomeninthemirror

Anemptyvessel,sheisn’tme

Mybrainsitsinthecloudswhilemybodyinadesk

TheyspeakbutIdon’tunderstand

Soundsmeshedinaforeignlanguage

Wheredidthingsgowrong?

Ihavenightmaresaboutleavingnow RubyG

mygrandmother’stinchairalwayscomesfirst Ileavetherecords eventhoughIknowvinylwarpsintheheat,they’retoobigandtoofragiletocramintotheblack duffelbagoroneoftwototes Iwonderifthey’llmeltoffthewalls orcurlinwardsonthemselveslikemyroses thosewillburnforsure hangingupside-downoffmywardrobe filledwithmoreflammablethings adressIneverworetoadancethatwasn’tasgoodastheafterparty thatmakesmethinkofalcohol,andofthebarfullofbottlesthatwilldefinitelygoupquick they’lllightthesmokegunfirst,samewiththeothergiftsmymothergavehimandI Ihatedoingit,andIhatetoadmitit,butIleavemostofthose takingmemorabiliabutleavingmemories moneyandpostersandtheboxofeverybirthdaycardandletterI’veevergotten packingandrepackingabagofclothesfulltobursting,withperfumesandsocksstuffedinthe cracks

Ithinkthemostjarringpartishowhastyitwas youdon’trealizehowlittletimeyouhavetodecidewhatpartsofyourlifetosave butIdon’twanttotalkaboutthatyet therearestillbookstoputintoboxessandwichedbetweencomicsandpostcardsandstickers thingsIamforgettingtowritedownjustliketherewerethingsthatIforgettotake likeafleetwoodmaccdandvhstapeswithfilmthatwouldcurlandshrivelintheI’vebeentryingtoavoidthewordflames butIshouldsayit,that’swhattheyare eatingtheirwayoverthedryhillsasanorangeboarderonaglowingscreen smokeisabadwordtoo thesmellofitobscuringeventhegasolinethatIpumpintothecartruckforthefirsttimeinthe dark

Ihardlyfeellikei’mallowedtotalkaboutit thewaypeoplewhowereneverhitareafraidtocallwhattheywentthrough“abuse” Iknowpeoplewhoreallysuffered,that’swhoshouldbewritingthis buteventhoughIfeellikeIdon’tdeservetobe,I’mafraidanyways eventhoughmeandmyhomeandmyroomandmybedaresafe(physically)andmy grandmother’stinchairstillsitsonthewhiteshelfinfrontofthemoulinrougeplaybill thatchairalwayscomesfirst everytimeIhaveanightmareaboutleaving

undulate AntonioT

ifeedtheducksinthepark andgooutforlunchbecause that'sthekindofloveiwant. thekindoflove thatisscribbleddownonscratch

realhonestkindofwriting isn'treadinsummertime. asi'mgrowingup mywritingislosingreasonandhair anartistwithoutamuse biteshisnailsintojaggedarches hecouldonlywritesomuch beforehispenrandry andtheducksstoppedpeckingathisdeadfeet.

Seagull

ElianaA-K

Oceanslull,doyouthinksheeverwhisperstothetide?

Carving,melding,andforeverchanged Shemisseshimsoandshemustleave Or Whensheglancesupwards tothesunandmoon theirpushandpull

Aboveher–thismustbewhatisparamount

AndIhavereadeverymonologuefromChekov’s Seagull

Doyouthinkthatbeautifulgulllooksbelow Andsimplylaughs,becauseherloversname isfreedom?

Butthenagain, Hedoesn'tholdherhand Andshewouldn'tdare

Toflyanyhigher

Untitled Series, JoshS

United AsherP

toallthebulletsthatmissed: alotofthroatsaregrowing innecktiedcollars likefrozenmilkbottles onanamstreet throatsthatarewanting bitemarks butwillsettle forbulletholes

youshelleduppellets stillhiding fromundeclaredwars lookforthesenudethroats thatneedsomedecoration theirthreerubynecklace andyou mylittlecircusact swingfast trapezeafterme forthereisnocare intheair foraheavilyarmoredman withthewildestaim

Portrait of a Photographer, RubyG

Remember RubyG

Rememberwhoyouwere

Rememberthechildwhosmiledwithtoomanyteethbeforesheknewanybetter

Rememberherlaugh,andherfears,andthefeelofhershoesonyourownfeet

Rememberthedayswhenthesunwasbrighterandtherainseemedwetterandyourhandswere almosttoosmalltohold

Remembertheblurthatlifeseemedtobebeforeyouwerewiseenoughtosavorit

Rememberyourmother,andyourfather,andyourgrandmother,whentheirhairwasdarkerand theirwrinkleswerefewer

Rememberyourownface,yourbody,notyetbatteredbytheweightofherworld

Remember,anddonotforget,thesefootstepsthatyoutakedownthispathtothepast,anddonot getlosttryingtofindthembecausetheyarenolongerthere

Rememberthatchildisgonefromthatplacebecausesheisstillwithyou

Rememberthatifyoudochoosetolook,sheissimplywithinyouandalwayswillbe

Anddonotforget

howtoRemember

LaCereza JustinaR

Dulcecomounapaletaheladaenunadoradatardedeverano yagriocomojugodelimaenuninviernohelado creandoelsabordelaprimaveracadaaño

Llevandoesperanzaysuertealosqueconfían

Mientrasderramamosdulzurasobrecualquieracidezquequedeennosotros

recordándonostiemposyestacionesmássimplespasadas yconteniendoladulzuraenfermizadelverano

Jugoderubípegajosoquesetransformaenotracosa unatartaounamermelada

algodulce,agrioyperfecto

TheCherry(translation)

Sweetasapopsicleonagoldensummerafternoon andtartaslimejuiceinicywinter creatingthetasteofspringeachyear

Bringinghopeandlucktothosewhotrust

Whilepouringsweetnessoveranysournessleftinus

remindingusofsimplertimesandseasonsgoneby andcontainingthesicklysweetnessofthesummer

stickyrubyjuicetransformingintosomethingelse apieorajam

somethingsweet,sourandperfect

Khoisan Little Boy, Ms.AllisonHardaway

PhilipS

parts

ofawhole parts

withahole iam: oftwoplaces oftwominds oftwohalves oflandandsea ofpeninsulaandcoastline ofdampanddry

oflushgreenery,treesstretchingfrommoistsoil,spindlylimbsbeckoningendlessskywith verdantleafyhands ofbilingualpop,sidedishesgalore,vibrantcolorsandsquishablecharacterswithrosycartoon cheeks,harmonicbeautyofnatureandman,ofKOandR ofoccupation

ofcoldgraysteel,crackedasphalt,emblazonedskyscraperstowering,challengingtheheavens ofyear-roundsunshine,greasyhamburgersandfresh-squeezedlemonade,ofbeachesand business,ofSoandCal ofcolonization twopuzzlepieces together forever twopuzzlepieces onetarnished decaying colorsfading cobwebsstaining fabricfraying isabstractartjustaspretty,captivating,thought-provoking,whole ifhalfthecanvasisburntaway?

istepontotheshoresofmyhomeland andthinktomyself thisisnotmyhomeland

thisshouldbemyhome

ishouldrecognizethecornerstores,theanimatedbillboards,theraindropscascadingdown,the

rhythmicsyllablesthatdancesmoothwaltzesaboutmyears

mymothertongueofbiology,notadoption

irecognizenot

irecognizenaught

ireturntoforeignlands

toscorchedearthunkissedbytearsofaether’scotton

tothemistysupermarkets,theearthquake-proofapartments,thesunlightbeamingdown,the rapidsyllablesinterspersedwithboisterouslaughterandfieryexpletives

mymothertongueofadoption,notbiology

andithinktomyself

thisismyhomeland

butitisnotmyhomeland

butitismyhomeland

oneoftwoworldshas: atongueoftwoworlds

acultureoftwoworlds

atraditionoftwoworlds

aknowledgeoftwoworlds

ihave: atongueofoneworld,withsparsebudsofanother acultureofoneworld,withoft-forgottenelementsofanother atraditionofoneworld,withneglectedfragmentsofanother aknowledgeofoneworld iam: incomplete partofawhole partofared,white,bluewhole partofared,white,blue,blackwhole halffaded melted evaporated intosandsoftime whoami? whoiam.

GS Scooter, ZachV

Whatever floats your boat, AntonioT

ILikeToMissYou CoraB

Iliketomissyou abovetherough sea. Whitefoamunder steel,orangedwings. Itfreezes,it breaks, andyoutextfrom farfaraway, underice.

6,000feetbelow, Iliketomissyou. Besidethewhitewall, underblackclothes. Whatdayisittoday? Whenwasthelasttimewe...? Thehorizonisblue-on-blue, white.

My Dear Sister, CelineC

Portrait Study, RubyG

CoraB

IhaveslicedthebeastopenandspatchcockeditonthetableandIstillhaven’tfoundits liver.Theguidesteeredmyknifetothecorrectlocation––Islidittheredespiteaclear discrepancybetweentheinstructionsandthefish––anddirectedmetomakeanincisiontwo inchesintotheflesh.Thencutitlengthwisedownthebelly.Thenfolditopenlikeabook.

Thisfishhasmorefatthanthefishinthediagram.Itsbellyisbare.Thereisnostomach, noheart,noliver,nolungs,onlywhitemeatthatrollsovertomyperplexedeyes,asiftosayyes, thisisindeedme.

“Ithinkyoucutitwrong.”

Iturngentleeyesonher.Bethdoesn’thavethestomachforthesmellthisthingis emitting,andherelbowiscrookedoverthepointofhernoseandthelipsI’veonlykissedthree times,chastely Herredhairisfallingfromabunaroundhershoulders.Ihavetheurgetopushit fromherface––towashthefishoffmyhandsandpushitfromherface.

“Icutitliketheinstructionssaid,”Isay Ihandthemtoher Sheinspectsthemand hmms.

Thisfishhasprominentnostrils––itdoesn’tlookanythinglikethepictureexceptforits coloring.Thefishwe’resupposedtobedissectinghasfan-likefins,whichispresumablyhowit gotitsname––theSeaRobin.Idon’tthink our fishlooksmuchlikearobin,butIexcuseits unidealizedfeaturesasaproductofitscurrentstate,andallIimagineitmust’vegonethrough beforelanding––ungracefully,imperfectly,stinkily(?)––onourtable.Besides,howcanIjudge thepoorbastardwhenI’mtheonecuttingintoitsgenerousbody?

“Let’smakeanotherincision.Thisonemightjusthavealotoffat.Theorgansare probablyfurtherinside.”

Wedigthroughthefish.ShestiflesagagbutIignorethesmell,deeplymotivatedto provethisspecimen––albeitanunfortunateexample––is indeed thebeautifulSeaRobin.Thefish wereprovidedbyacompany.Idoubtthatanyonewhospecializesinprovisionsforschoolfish dissectionswouldscrewupon one fish inashipmentoffish.

Accordingtoourpacket,Triglidae,commonlyknownasGurnards(onomatopoeic,for thesoundtheymake)orSeaRobins(fortheirwing-likepectoralfins),aretropical, bottom-feeding,ray-finnedfishfoundacrosstheworld.Theyhaveaspine-guardedmouthjust belowthesnout,twodorsalfins,andsolid,bonyheads.Acrossallsubspecies,theTriglidaemay rangefrom10cmto75.1cminlength,buttheaveragespecimenisbetween30to40cm.

Ihuntforeachofthesetraits.Thefishundermyhandshasapointed,rat-liketail.Itis large––almost80cm––withspeckledwhitespotsalongitsback.Whenyourunyourhandalong aSeaRobin’sscales,theyaresupposedtoshiftbackandforthlikethesequinsona10-year-old’s t-shirt.Ourfishhasnoscales,andourfish,whoissupposedtobetoothless,hasalargepairof incisorsinitsbottomandtopjaws.

“It’sanuglyduckling,”IinsistasIdigthroughthebody.“It’saSeaRobin.”

“Mhm,”Bethagreesdistantly.IdistantlythinktomyselfthatIwouldlikeherhelp––I wouldlikeherhandsagainstmineaswehuntforitslivertogether.Iwouldlikeherwatchingme insteadoftheinstructions.

RedinnardspoolagainstmygreenlatexglovesasIhittheorgans.Ifindtheheartand stomach,andtheysquelchinawaythatfeelswrong,butIinsistonthem.Welabel,takenotes.I stillhaven’tfoundtheliver.Bethlookseverywherebutme.Itrytorememberhereyeswhenwe starteddating,andwonderifthisishoweveryrelationshipgoes.Itmustbe.

“Ifoundit!”Icrysuddenly,forIcertainlyhave.I’veneverfeltafishliver,butwhatelse couldafishliverpossiblyfeellike?Iyankitfromthebellyandholditaloft.

Bethinspectsourinstructions,scanningthediagramsanddescriptionsofeachorgan.She grantsmeagenerousmomentofsilencebeforebiting,“that’sit’spenis.”

Istareatit,thenather.Shestaresatthediagram.

“Wellwhydon’tyou help methen?”Iwhisper I’msurprisedbyhowlittlefrustrationmy voiceconveys.Iwanttoyellather Iwanttostormoutoftheroom.

ButIwouldhavemybacktoherifIdidthat.Overpoweringeverything,Irealize,isthatI wanthertolookatme.To really look.AndIwanttoseeherdoit.

Shedoesn’t.Ofcourseshedoesn’t.Bethneverliftsherchinasshereplies,simply,with thesamecoldtimbreinhervoice,“Itsmells.”

I’mnotentirelysurehowIwanttoairmygrievances––throughyelling,crying,writing, indifference,bychangingmyself,bystealingherfriends––butbeforeIcandecide,she’swalked away Sheleavesthelab,strippingoffherapronandglovesandhangingthembythedoor,and pleasantlyasksourteacherifshemayusetherestroom.

Icontinuetoholdthefishpenisinmyhand.Istaredownatitsslicedbody,atitslarge teethandnostrils,atitsfinsthataren’tfan-shaped,atitsspots.

Bethleavestheroom,andIdecideitisn’tanuglyduckling. “Ms.Stein,”Icall.“Ihavethewrongfish.”

Untitled Series, JoshS(cont.)

Iowa CoraB

Flat,flatnothing bareandsun-browned. Arivertracksdownitscenter fromthebrowbone. Ilaysun-warminsun-warmIowa andwonderhowmanymirrorsexist betweenmyinsidesandyours mybody,yours. ThetreesbleedredasIdo— shedskinandhairasIdo— mimicasImimicyou.

Myreflection,outsidemywindow Iowa— aflat,brownchest— ariverofsummerwater, thedrippingsugar, sea.

Importance of Tones, CelineC

HerLanguageofFlowers

ElianaA-K

Flowergirl,vivacious,girlofflorals,blossoming Crownof:

Acanthus,honeysuckle,hyssop,orangeblossom,larkspur or

Unfeignedartifice,bondsoflove,sacrifice,purity,andlevity

Whitedress,virginal,avestal-itewho clear,andaDryadindarkerseas,wishesencased,whoshook,Apollo-Dyonisian,Bacchicfrenzy, solemnprioress,andeternallyimitatingthevenaisan

InScheherazadeianskin,Ifshepeers,eyes—hazelgreen,inthenighttime,deepandofsatinand murkyandpure—throughthetreesshemayseeloversseelathethelikelypropophized

ButDelphicheart

Virginc-virginalandclear,stead,beautyinhermeticyouth, Joviallove

Unbridled andtheGoddessfloweret

Sheturnsinthegapsofhefingers,

Forever

Portrait of an Adolescent Dreaming, AsherP

elángel AntonioT desciende, elángelquecae. loscielos;élcaeencascada bajaybaja,másalládelasnubes

unadevastadafelicidad, tejiendoatravésdelaire unpájarosinalasnopuedevolar ylosángelescaencomolluvia.

caensinamor, sóloesperanza.protegidaporsuvoluntad. unabrazodelviento, unaciertatranquilidad.

seoyeunamelodíaetérea eltiemposedetiene. unángeldelcielo, unhumanodisfrazado, losángeleslloran.

TheAngel(translation) AntonioT descends, thefallingangel theheavens;hecascades lowandlow,beyondtheclouds adevastatedhappiness, weavingthroughtheair abirdwithoutwingscannotfly andtheangelsfalllikerain. theyfallwithoutlove, onlyhope.protectedbyhiswill. ahugfromthewind, acertaintranquility. youhearanetherealmelody timestops. anangelfromheaven, ahumanindisguise, theangelscry.

Untitled EmmaH

itwasadream absolutelyeverythingiwanted ifinallyfeltlikeasuccess likeeverythingwasgoingright theniwokeup andiwaswelcomedbackintothe nightmare thatiwasreallyliving andiwouldsulk,andmope justwaitinguntilicouldgobacktosleep, untilicouldbelivingmydream again butnoonepreparesyou forhowtolive whenitswitches fromlivingyourdreaminyoursleep,andwakinguptoyournightmare towakinguptoyourdream,andgoingtosleeptoanightmare whenyouwakeuponeday andsuddenly everythingishowyou’dalwaysimagineitwouldbe isthisnormalnow? isthishoweveryonehasbeenlivingallthistime? icanthelpbutthinkitsfleeting icanthelpbutthink mustitalwaysonlybeadream?

Vestige CelineC

Ishouldbegrateful. Tobethelastpersonyouspoketo. Tobethelastpersontoholdyourhands andtobethelastpersontocallyourname. coldhands,coldtears

ThosearethehandsIgrabbedfor. Thosearethetearsthatcomfortedme.

Drivingbyyourhouse,Isee familiartrees,familiarhouses familiarneighborhood, Igotoyourhouse,and meetYourfamily,Yourdogs, Yourcats.

Yourwarmth,Yourscent andallthememorieslooselystitchedinourhearts. butwhenthosememorieslosetheirhome andwhenItrytotakethemwithme, Itneverfeelsthesameanymore, Itneverfeelsthesameanymore.

Look Out!, RubyG

Dross AsherP

Ihaditforabreath

Iwantedtothankyou

Isawbusinessmenwalkby, “DoyouknowwhoIam?”

Isawthemundressed bygirlswalkingout oftheclubtheywantedin themenmorenakedthannakedwomen themenwantedtocryquietly butthat’snotwhy

Itsslippingfrommymind—thethanks whichwillleavemewithjustlonging

Hownervousisyourexcitement?

Doyoulikeyourlegs?

Ihaditforaninstant

Ihadareasonforlettingthephoto ofyoureyesinterruptmyconversation

Somethingoverheard adrivergettingpaid forgoodconversation hewasnotsurprised itwasonlyajob

Nowit’sgonecompletely

Mostpeoplethinkyou’rebeautiful

manybeforeme manymoreafter howdoIfeelaboutthat?

Idonotfeelaboutthat

IwishIhadareasontoleaveyou excepttheoneyougaveme butanythinggoodwasthrownoutwiththepaper Isawshortordercookstakingtheirsmokes backalleytradesandmoremeninsuits

Theyworkintallbuildings andlovetheirworldliness eventhoughtheyhadseenitallthroughdesignersunglasses— notjustahobby atotalaffixion theythoughttheworldhadheardthem andIwassuddenlyafraid oftheirregulations

Iwasreadytoplea

Now,we’reathumiliation

IlostwhyIstarted Iwantedtothinkaboutyourskin

Iknownothingofyourskin you’venoticedthat Iwantyousomewheresafe farfromtallbuildings

I’llthankyoulater

manypeoplewanttocrysoftlybesideyou

Macbeth, CelineC

DirectionstoBuilding66? Ah—headdownMainStreet, Anditwasreallyquitewonderfulyouknow, Stainedglasswindowsandallthat. Leftonceyoureachthe7-Eleven, Whereinthewindowtheyhaveaphotoof “TheWorld’sLargestCowboyHat!” Andofcoursewhocouldforget, Thestage,themusic,andalltherevelries. Thesumptuousroomsofsmokeandvelvet, Stuffedwithexpertsinreconditesubjects. EverySaturdaynight,doorsopenat8, RightontoBroadleafBoulevard, Andtheywouldwheelouttheoneandonly: “MauriceMorrison,singeroftheages! Bornin1754,inKennebunkMaine, Nowshe’shereforustonight!” Exittheroundaboutonto2ndStreet, Shewouldcroonoutanumberfromthe50s, ThatIdon’tthinksheeverreallyknew. Anairofputrescence,aringingintheears, Restoredsightandascouredsoul. WhenyoustumbledoutofBuilding66, Anundercurrentoftruthinyourvomit. StartheadingsouthonI-95, Imettheloveofmylifeinitsclutches, Anexpertinanthropodermicbibliopegy, AndafanofKixcereal. After3miles,exitatahopelessDenny’s, Hespokeinforkedtongues, Spenteverycentchasingataraxy, Anddiedinapredictablecarcrash, Someinternecineaffairoftwistedsteel.

Ontheflashymayflywalls, Andamongsthollowwarningsliesasign, “NOoutsidefoodordrinkallowed.” Butthere’stwoexceptions, OneforoverthecounterIbuprofen, Nowremember,Advilwasnewthen, ThoseheadytimesofBuilding66’sheyday, Whenpainwassomethingtominimize, Beforeallthepunditsandsophists LeftonTerraceAvenue, Andphilosophersandex-marines Rightatthe3rdlightafterwards, Andpreachersandaesthetesmovedon. Theproprietorwasaslyman, Onewiththerevolvingwheelsofwealth, Clothedinafastidiousformofpolitesse. Thoughyoumustknowhe’sgonenow, Lefttowrithealoneonhisdeathbed, Hisinternistleaningonthethreshold. AlonepensionerinInverness, Leftwithoutthecomfortofprotocols. HetookBuilding66withhim, RightontoMainStreetandbacktothestart, Halfofthefoundationsandstatues, AndBuilding66crumbledinnotime. Nowallthatremainsisabarrenland, Blanketedinrubble,mournersandhawkers, Wheregauntpreachersclutchtatteredpages, Wherehoneyspringsforthonemore, Wherethelostcontinuetowander, Andwherewegiveintoourrecidivism. Countthebuildingsontheleft, You’llwanttoenterBuilding66.

Jump!, AsherP

Tulips

By: Asher P

EXT. STREET CORNER - AFTERNOON

A and B stand on a street corner.

Are you waiting for the moon?

No, the tulips, it will be spring soon.

Oh, well, there's a different kind of moon tonight

B nods. B looks down into the brown grocery bag that B has their arms wrapped around

I really hope I remembered to get cheese sticks, I don't see them. I hope they're at the bottom of the bag.

The WALK sign comes on. A and B walk across the road

Listen, I know you're not waiting for the moon, but I am, and would you like to wait for the moon with me tonight?

I would like to wait for the moon with you.

CUT TO:

EXT O'CONNELLY'S TAVERN - THE GAP BETWEEN EVENING AND NIGHT

A and B wait for the moon together, seated on the outside porch at O'CONNELLY'S TAVERN

I chose O'Connelly's Tavern because the outdoor seating provides a good chunk of sky.

The moon begins to do strange things as a plate of fried pickles is put between A and B.

The cheese sticks were, in fact, at the bottom of the bag I didn't forget them.

That's good. So, you're waiting for the tulips?

Yeah, I am. Do you know about the tulips how you don't have to keep planting them? You just plant a bulb and they keep coming back.

Oh sure, the bulb. You plant the bulb and the tulips keep coming back in the spring. Oh sure, I knew that once and now I know it again

A does not eat any of the fried pickles. Neither does B.

I don't like fried pickles.

Neither do I.

How come it wasn't us? When we knew each other, did you ever want it to be us?

Oh sure, us. It could have been us. Maybe it should have been us. Oh sure, I've thought that Maybe it shouldn't

have been anyone. I thought about that mostly.

If you had been taller, it would have been us.

Really?

Yeah, I would have fallen in love with you.

It can't possibly work like that. But, oh sure, I suppose it can work however it wants. Are you sure that was it?

No, that wasn't it. But you never asked me to do anything like this You never asked me if I wanted to wait for the moon while the appetizer no one's got the appetite for goes cold.

No, I didn't

The moon finishes doing its strange things. FADE OUT.

THE END