Contents A zine about being a child in the 90’s - 2000’s, becoming an adult, and all the bullshit in between.
Untitled Phil Gerigscott
22.
Photography by Mari del Fierro
6.
Eat Me & Yo Chris Moody
25.
Purple Clouds Zachary Valladon
7.
Heroes in the Making Becky Bower
26.
Growing Up: A Progression Liv Overgaard
11.
So, I’ll be Your Monster Today Matt Betts
27.
Rebecca Petrose T.
12.
Black & White Chris Bird
28.
Sandra Morgan Cooley
29.
Love Letter to the Third Floor Bathroom Liv E-L
French Fry Zine
Vol. 1
Page
3
5.
Undertale: A Review Karen Anne Paredes
15.
For Glory Robert Zhang
30.
Morphin’ Time Shayne Liess
18.
Untitled Phil Gerigscott
33.
Ghazal For Saskia Liv E-L
19.
What a Wealth of Knowledge Matt Betts
34.
Campfire Amy Berebiem
20.
With us forever behind. & Bianca Collin Hughart
Cover artwork by Morgan Cooley
THE TEAM
Page
4
(as written & Illustrated by Each Other)
Becky Bower
French Fry Zine
Vol. 1
Editor in Cheif
Becky was raised by two joshua trees, with 2 sisters and 1 brother. Her parents sent her to CSU Channel Islands where she studdied various written material, both creative & political (tumblr), foriegn films & TV (anime) and experimental music (kpop).
Karen Anne Paredes Morgan Cooley Co-Editor
Art Director
Karen Anne (a.k.a. Karen Man) is the ultimate Disney nerd. On top of forcing all her friends to buy passes and watch her swoon over extremely handsome (but totally gay) cast members, she gets everyone addicted to cream cheese pretzels. This is all part of her evil plan (a.k.a. the pudgy pact).
Morgan likes art and food, but probably food a little more than art. Music ranks up there too, even if he does need to add some k-pop to his playlists for diversity.
When she’s not at Disneyland crying over Aladin’s glorious abs, she spends her free time hoarding makeup and watching The Flash, which she’s too obsessed with... a.k.a she needs help.
http://www.frenchfryzine.com/ FrenchFryZine@gmail.com
He might have been a lumberjack in a past life, and he honors that possibility by almost exclusively wearing plaid. In his current life, he’s a strange mix of April Ludgate and Goofy, and somehow makes that work. He’s kind of a filthy casual, but he’s loved for it anyways. Although he is the only member of The French Fry Zine Team that consistently exercises, one day he will fulfill his destiny and eat everything in the universe.
5 Page Vol. 1 French Fry Zine
By Phil Gerigscott, from the “B-Fast Gigz” Collection
6 Page Vol. 1 French Fry Zine
“Eat Me” & “Yo” by Chris Moody
g n i k a M e h t ES in
French Fry Zine
Vol. 1
Page
7
HERO
If you haven’t heard of Heroes in the Making, you’re missing out. This progressive rock band straight from Southbay, CA has generated a unique sound that’s nostalgic of the emo bands you used to love, with a modern twist. By fusing and blending different elements from other genres into their own sound, their funky music will have you wanting more. After releasing their EP, Both Ends of the Spectrum, late last year, their quirky stage presence and reminiscent music has attracted a decent following. While the EP highlights the intricacy of their music, they definitely stay true to their personality. Their energetic song, “I Like Songs with Long Titles So I Decided to Make this Song have a Long Title”, is my one of my favorites and characterizes a video game-like hero’s desire to save the world and get the girl… that is, until he considers stealing her soul. Through a few Facebook messages and a long, fuzzy Skype call, I was able to talk to Heroes in the Making’s members, Olaph (vocalist and guitarist), Jonathan (vocalist, guitarist, and pianist), Richard (vocalist and bassist), and Brian (drummer), about how they strike a balance between their child-like, nostalgic sound and their lives as active adults in their 20’s. So what bands did you love in your childhood? Richard: “A lot of emo-rock bands, Fall Out Boy…” Jonathan: “…My Chemical Romance…” Olaph: “Green Day.” Brian: “Also, I grew up with this joke but the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Those were the bands that got me into music.” R: “Also Simple Plan, Good Charlotte.” O: “Blink-182.” R: “Yeah, Blink-182. That’s a big part of it. And
Written by Becky Bower
Avenged Sevenfold.” B: “Absolutely Avenged Sevenfold.” R: “Very emo.” O: “The Wiggles.” (laughs) Do you think any of those childhood bands have influenced your music now? R: “Absolutely. A big part of it. At this point, we’re in the demographic of people who used to listen to the same types of rock music, but as an adult you grow towards something new like new genres that you fit in with more… and as college-age musicians, you start writing more intricate stuff that you appreciate the musicality more, like more of the pop demographic. That’s where it gets for us.” O: “But we still love pop.” R: “Yeah, pop music is awesome.” O: (Gestures towards Johnathan) “He loves kpop.” J: “It’s good!” As you get older do you think that your music style will change? That you’ll lose touch of those childhood roots? O: “Yeah.” R: “I think it always changes.” O: “I feel like whenever we start listening to something new we kind of try to incorporate that into our music and then whatever we’re listening to, that’s the songs we’ll be writing, mixed with stuff we used to listen to. Then it kind of just fuses together and it’s like ‘Ah! This is funny.’ Like a blend of worlds.” R: “Yeah and that nostalgia feeling of listening to old bands comes up all the time. Just last week, we were on the street and Johnny and I were like, ‘We haven’t listened to My Chemical Romance in a while’ and as soon as you start playing it, it’s like ‘Man, this is great. We should write something like this’ or ‘We should just start listening to this again’. We just saw a post literally five minutes ago
8 Page Vol. 1 French Fry Zine
where some kid born after 2000 was talking about how they wish they were born in the 90’s so that they could listen to Simple Plan.” (everyone laughs) R: “And we were like, ‘Man, I wish we could listen to 80’s music or early 90’s music’ but they were like ‘Ah, I wish I could’ve been into Simple Plan’. That’s crazy to us.”
How did you guys come up with the name for your band? What was your inspiration? O: “It’s funny… I was in an old band and we were called The Streetlight Kids and we had a guitar person whose name was Ollie and he actually came up with the name because we were all becoming heroes. I was actually trying to become a firefighter, Brian was trying to become a dentist, Ollie, the former guitarist, was trying to become a police officer, and then… (looks at Jonathan) was
9 Page Vol. 1 French Fry Zine
it real estate agent? … and Richard’s just a super hero.” R: “True story.” That’s interesting. It’s almost like, you have these kind of adult jobs you’re going after and it formed you. And yet your music is so not adultlike. (everyone laughs) O: “Yeah, it’s really funny. We’re trying to save our
childhood!” Do you have any goals that you wish to accomplish in the future, whether it’s in your music or personal/transitional goals? R: “Absolutely.” O: “I would like to travel the world. I would like to just see as many places as I can and… this is kind of a cliché answer but I just want to be happy at the end of my life, like know that I did all the
10 Page Vol. 1 French Fry Zine
things I wanted to do. Do like a bucket list. I’m actually skydiving tomorrow, so stuff like that. Just the little things.” B: “I’m working hard and going to school to try to become a dentist and I work in a demo office. So my goal is to end up actually owning an office and being a dentist, but at the same time I love being in this band and part of my goals are being able to tour with these guys. I’d really love to actually go on a crosscountry tour with these guys, and that’s one of my goals too.” J: “One of my personal goals is to continue studying music and actually achieve a degree in piano performance…” B: “He’s good.” J: “…And with these guys I definitely want to continue making music and playing stuff I love.” O: “He actually likes our music, guys.” (fake sniffles) (laughter) R: “I guess my personal goal is actually pretty contrary to theirs. I do want to tour but my main goal is to record more. There’s so many songs that have been written in the past with us that I feel like have kind of slipped through the cracks and have either been forgotten or something. And I miss them, you know. My goal is to record so much content because, I’m not saying it’s all great, but everyone finds a favorite song, even in a small band. Business goals, I’d like to be financially free, doing stuff I like, like being in a band or having a small business regarding music or art.”
This might seem like an obvious question, but do you find that it’s hard to balance the band with everyday struggles? Everyone: “Yes!” R: “Yes and no. Like it was going pretty well for two years, like we were pretty consistent. But recently Olaph got a job, and it’s a good job, but it cuts the time we had to practice. So now our practice times are about an hour a week versus before when we had six, and our availability for shows is weekends only. But I think we’re very consistent and committed so it’s not that bad of a loss.” O: “We’re going to come back strong.” Good! Finally, if you could collaborate with any band in the world, alive or dead, who would you collaborate with? R: “Hmm, actually I don’t know.” O: “That’s a really good question.” R: “I think if I was getting pop-y, I’d like Brendon Urie from Panic! at the Disco, because his new album is pretty sick.” O: “Death of a Bachelor.” R: “Yeah, Death of a Bachelor is a really good album.” O: “I would say the Deer Hunter. Just because I feel like it’d be such an amazing process to be a part of. Then I could put some twists and turns with their stuff.” B: “I can’t think of anything new…” J: (laughs) “Mozart?” B: “Or maybe actually, Intervals. They’re a band that’s musically intricate and really cool, and could show us a lot.” You can check out Heroes in the Making’s music on iTunes, Spotify, and of course, their band page, https://heroesinthemaking.bandpage.com/ With plans on releasing a new single and generating some new merch, Heroes in the Making will definitely “come back strong”. Be sure to like their Facebook page for more info.
Buy their EP, Both Ends of the Spectrum.
So, I’ll be Your Monster Today Page
11
Written by Matt Betts
French Fry Zine
Vol. 1
I know, I know. There’s no ‘Wow’ factor here. I’m the last monster on your list. Third string at best. But here I am. I won’t level your town, but I can annoy the hell out of your neighbors. Listen: Rawrrrr. I know, it’s weak. I’m working with a voice and movement coach. I know, I know. I’m not your Gamera or your Monster Zero. But I’m trying. Working out. Deep squat thrusts. Yoga. I’m doing yoga. There’s that. I’m getting there.
“Black & White” illustrated by Chris Bird
Undertale: A Review Review written by Karen Anne Paredes
I’d like to start this review with the following statement: shut up and go play Undertale already. Now that I’ve gotten my main point out of the way, here’s the part where I just nerd out about how I love this game. If the first sentence didn’t make you shut up and go play Undertale already (which it really should have), hopefully the rest of this piece will.
Page
13
Undertale is a wonderful little RPG created by Toby Fox (available on Steam for both PC and Mac if you’d rather take my initial advice and go play it now). The graphics are far more reminiscent of SNES games, as opposed to the practically cinematic quality of many Playstation 4 and Xbox One games. But instead of being a drawback, the old school graphics provide more of a nostalgic draw to a modern game. It’s really cute is what I’m saying. Especially the protagonist’s perpetually unfazed “-_-“ face. You play as the child protagonist who’s fallen down into the Underground—a world inhabited by monsters. The opening reveals that monsters once lived with humans on the surface, until war broke out between them and drove the monsters underground. As such, you can imagine the monsters might not be happy to see you. The game asks you to name the fallen child, and you then journey through the Underground to reach the barrier to the human world and go back home. How much of a murderous asshole you’re going to be on that journey is entirely up to you.
French Fry Zine
Vol. 1
There are three options for your journey, in order of ascending asshole-ness: Pacifist Run, Neutral Run, and Genocide/No Mercy Run. A Pacifist Run consists of killing absolutely no one. If you don’t kill anyone, how do you get through battles, you ask? Determination! And enough patience and self-control to not punt your computer through the window when your merciful ass gets kicked repeatedly. Fights mostly consist of dodging the hell out of everything in bullet hell-style combat. Once it’s your turn, the fight screen gives you four options: Fight, Act, Item, and Mercy. In a Pacifist Run, “Act” is going to be your main option. The actions you can take vary depending on who you’re fighting, but they include things such as pet, eat, laugh, ignore, and—my personal favorite—flirt. Seriously. You can flirt your way to victory. Once you’ve found the right action to make a monster give up on fighting you, you can proceed to the “Mercy” option and spare him. Ta-da! Victory without being a dick. Now if you do want to be a dick, the Genocide/No Mercy Run is for you. This is achieved through actively seeking out every single monster in the game and killing them. A bonus to this route is an extra boss with an amazing battle theme (Megalovania!!!), but it comes at the cost of your humanity, you terrible person. Despite this route requiring you to become a genocidal bastard, it does add an extra level of complexity to the storyline with experiences you can’t get through the Pacifist Run, and vice versa. The Neutral Run is what happens when you don’t meet the qualifications for either Pacifist or Genocide/No Mercy, and the ending depends on whether or not you killed during your journey, and who you killed if so. With so many options, it’s easy to see that Undertale has great replay value. But fair warning: the game will not forget. All of your actions have a consequence, and a soft reset doesn’t mean you get a clean slate.
French Fry Zine
Vol. 1
Page
14
While Undertale does have a compelling story and fun gameplay, the best part of it might just be the characters. Sans is a lazy bag of bones that can’t stop dropping puns (Sans. He’s a comic. I’ll let it come to you) and Alphys is a big old piece of anime trash just like the rest of us (You can fake date her at one point. She asks important first date questions, such as, “Do you like anime?”). Speaking of dates, you can date Papyrus the skeleton and feel him up with your soul and that may or may not make you a furry, just saying. My personal favorite is Napstablook the ghost. We have the same hobby, which is lying on the ground after a great meal and feeling like garbage. I’ve only ever done a Pacifist run because I got too attached to the characters to go back and kill them all and I have no regrets. I cry when I see videos of Genocide/No Mercy Runs. Speaking of things that make me cry, the music absolutely made me cry. At several points. I don’t think anything I can say will do it proper justice, so do yourself a favor and look up the soundtrack on Youtube. In particular, the track titled “Undertale,” which is used so perfectly within the game that I still can’t listen to it without tearing up. Listening to the soundtrack is what gave me the final push to go and play this game, and if it doesn’t do that for you, at least give yourself the gift of this amazing soundtrack. If it hasn’t become clear yet, I adore Undertale (except for the Genocide/No Mercy Run). It’s not a very long game, but its less-than-stellar graphics belie a beautiful, complex game about humanity and the consequences of your actions. I can’t spoil any of the major points for you, but I can tell you this: shut up and go play Undertale. You won’t regret it.
Page
15
For Glory Written by Robert Zhang
I just opened the best gift ever. It’s a Nintendo GameCube. Two controllers, and Super Smash Bros Melee.
Vol. 1
Rainbows of excitement fill my veins. Day in, Day out. I load up the game. I practice my favorite character. French Fry Zine
What began as an invitation to play a new game Becomes an open-invite to a duel. It’s found its way through my mind. I have to find ways to improve. I have to be better. Always shouting in the background, The itch to be the best can drive any person to madness. A senior from school is hosting a local tournament. There is no medal, no plaque and no trophy. The award is elusive, but highly sought after. The prestige of proving that you are the best of the best.
I sit and enter my first round, half-not knowing what to expect, and half-knowing my level of confidence. By the end of the first round, I’ve lost. By the end of the tournament, I am dead last. But I earn a far better gift than prestige. I earn the spot to play during lunch-time. I earn the acceptance of the Smash Club,
Page
16
And I earn the respect for my sparring friends. Day in, day out. Every round, a new challenge. Every loss, a new lesson. And every victory, a blissful breakthrough.
Vol. 1
The club president hosts another tournament. It’s organized the same as all the others. Exactly how I want it.
French Fry Zine
Winner-take-all go for glory.
I sit and enter my first round. Sharp and clear, like glass, I have no doubt about this time around. I will make it beyond the first round. Finals. Everyone huddles behind the two seats. Whispers echo through the room before the round begins. I’ve earned quite a sudden reputation from the crowd. And there he is, the Finalist. I have to beat the Club President.
He sits down in the chair. Cool, calm and collected. His slicked-back hair betrays his look. Confident, but surprised I’ve risen through the ranks. “Best of luck,” he says, with a smirk. “I think you’ll be needing it,” I reply, smoothly. The final match begins.
17
Sweaty palms and sore thumbs are a familiar feeling. The stage is set and the crowd’s fired up.
Page
If they’re good at anything, they’re good at hype. I can see the lies on his hands, and he can see the lightning in my eyes. The number of stocks tick off quickly.
Vol. 1
It’s come down to the last life. I figure I’ll stop hiding my favorite technique. I wave-dash across the stage, right behind him.
French Fry Zine
Grab, back-throw, short hop, down air. Spike. It is at that moment I know, Glory is mine.
18 Page Vol. 1 French Fry Zine
by Phil Gerigscott, from the “B-Fast Gigz” Collection
19 Page Vol. 1 French Fry Zine
what A Wealth of Knowledge Written by Matt Betts
Occipital lobe. Occipital lobe. It’s one of those words or phrases that lose all meaning when you say it over and over. Occipital lobe. Occipital lobe. Like Sheboygan and metamorphosis. Fun to say, but they’re pretty much gobbledygook after a while. Sheboygan. Sheboygan. It’s fun, try it, you’ll see. MetamorphosisMetamorphosisMetamorhposis. Am I wrong? How about Chupacabra? Chupacabra. Chupacabra. We shout it daily. Multiple times daily, but after a while, it sounds like mush. Look out for that Chupacabra. Your Chupacabra looks sad. The Chupacabra has a terrible backswing. ChupacabraChupacabraChupacabra. See what I mean? Help us Occipital Lobe. Sheboygan will Chupacabra them. Metamorphosis, Metamorphosis, Metamorphosis.
“Bianca� photographed by Collin Hughart
With us forever behind. Written by Collin Hughart
On a late night drive, it’s hard to differentiate a light caught in the corner of your eye from a hallucination, especially when the illumination comes as fast as a blink. After forcing my eyes open, drying them out while waiting for another flash of light, my suspicion was confirmed that what I had seen wasn’t a fabrication of the mind, but was truly there in the distance: the silhouette of a mountain range.
French Fry Zine
Vol. 1
Page
21
With the affirmation of my friend and passenger, an investigation began that would stretch into the hours of the night, changing our lives forever. Driving toward the range, the frequency of the flashes reminded us of a recurrence which the town had been subject to in the past. In the late hours of the night or the early hours of the morning, a singular sonic boom would echo through the valley, waking the light sleepers. Many would phone the police regarding an explosion and others like myself would phone a friend as evidence that what they heard wasn’t from a dream. No explanation was given, even as the sound came back several times over the course of two or three years, but common opinion was that the boom most certainly came from beyond the mountains where workers were building a quarry. So in an attempt to finally answer the question of the boom and the illumination at the same time, we headed through the valley. As we drew closer to the range, the rhythm of the light seemed to move away at the same pace and remained steady on the horizon with us forever behind. Once we were engulfed in the darkness of the mountain shadow and past the empty quarry, the direction of the light became unclear and seemed to come from in front and behind us at the same time, almost as if the light was radiating around the circumference of the car. What used to be the sounds of the night wind, the rustling trees, and the chirping brushfire bugs meshed together to form an indiscernible whir in our ears, rising around us and within the valley. It all came together then, as something warm and loud and alive, answering the question of what it means to breathe. The steady glow of a light in the distance, the same distance it had always been, pushed us beyond the mountain range in further search of something which was never there. As the blinding flashes around the forest night valley bent and fused in the sky, and the whirring drone stretched down the road and through our car, it became clear that we would never find what we were looking for, but would never stop searching.
Photographed by Mari del Fierro
Purple Clouds By Zachary Valladon
“Put that fucking phone down,” they’re saying. “You are always on that fucking phone.” It’s just that this plaid couch calls to me on days like this; the purple clouds in my eyes float like oblong hearts, swimming in the family room after a stroll around sun-bleached sidewalks, and I could just run my first finger and thumb for hours across the fabric on this fucking couch, man… The urgency is tangible. Manageable. Anyway, I’ll call you later. Mom needs the line.
GROWING UP: A PROGRESSION
French Fry Zine
Vol. 1
Page
26
By Liv Overgaard
one: immortality drinking strawberry milkshakes and artificially-tasting almost-fluorescent pink slushies at the grill downtown. covering the city in pastel-coloured hopscotch grids and the walls with mandalas. beads & gems & strands of hair braided into pretty friendship bracelets, tied tight around wrists. two: loss of innocence OR The Fall climbing the tallest tree just to jump and bruise-break your knees. licking the blood of your fingers, an invitation to the club. warpaint on your lips. eat, or be eaten. kill, or be killed. this is a battleground, a warzone—this is hell. too-short skirts, the first bra. the smell of smoke and decay, everything grimy. three: the aftermath ‘sorry, but my mum said no’ is no longer an excuse you can use. the ground is still lava, though. everything is on fire. when it caught, ignited—you don’t recall. here you are, now, in the middle of it: large, orange flames licking away at your limbs, clouds of fume around and inside your head. welcome to real life, honey.
“Rebecca” by Petrose T.
28 Page Vol. 1 French Fry Zine
“Sandra” photographed by Morgan Cooley
Love Letter to the Third Floor Bathroom By Liza E-L
French Fry Zine
Vol. 1
Page
29
Beyond the quick hinges of your poster-papered door a metal stool rests, backpack-sized, cornered by your always-stocked paper towel dispenser. Days when Physics lets out ten minutes early, I sail ten steps across the third floor science hall all the way to the detergent-smelling island of you, line your mirror ledge with my BB cream, hand lotion, mascara, five shades of lip gloss, liquid and pencil eyeliner. Sometimes, I hang my lunchbox off the jutting bone of your stall-peg and just watch it dangle. This is the way I wish for you on mornings when tight-chested sweaters demand constant tugging and I can feel black charcoal specks smudging the corners of my sleepy eyes with each clock tick we spend apart. I love the way my right hip feels propping open your stall doors in the dim fluorescence of mid-seventh-period as I fumble with handfuls of bobby pins and limp elastics, gather stray strands and curls into thick buns, smooth down baby frizz with fingerfuls of your lukewarm sink water while you watch, your pupils spirit-maroon and concentrated. You don’t need to say anything. I know you know exactly who I am.
Morphin’ TIme By Shayne Liess
30
Carolyn Vermillion’s mom didn’t like her watching television either, but that never stopped us. Mrs. Vermillion worked afternoons, so it was the perfect time during summer to cruise on over on my bike with Shasta so we could watch all the costumed hero shows.
Page
Out the garage, it took me fifteen minutes by bike to get to Carolyn Vermillion’s house. It usually took me closer to twenty - she lived right next to Albertsons, the one with the Shasta vending machine where you could get a can of Black Cherry for 25 cents. Shasta Black Cherry was Carolyn Vermillion’s favorite, but her mom didn’t let her drink soda.
It started with Power Rangers. We’d been in the second grade, out by the jungle gym, with bars too slippery in the mornings from dew, and too hot in afternoons from the California sun. That’s why we only went there for first recess, when it was perfect.
French Fry Zine
Vol. 1
I’d never seen the show. I wasn’t the kind of girl who would go out of her way to find out what was new on TV. Carolyn was, though. I can always count on her to tell me what’s popular, and I love her for it. Carolyn and the others were at the jungle gym, throwing punches and kicks. The boys weren’t doing very good ones. I was a yellow belt in Tae Kwon Do, and so was Carolyn. She was half Vietnamese and I was half Korean, so piano lessons and martial arts were naturally things we had in common. We weren’t allowed to use Tae Kwon Do at school, though, or Master Evans would be mad. I remember asking them what they were playing. I remember asking them that because they didn’t look like they were actually fighting. Nobody was angry, or shouting, or crying – but they looked like they were having fun. Carolyn told me they were playing Power Rangers. I didn’t know how to play, or even what it was, but I remember asking if I could play too. It seemed a lot more fun than playing Captain Planet, again. I didn’t like playing Captain Planet with them, unless we got Ring Pops to be our magic power rings. Carolyn always got to be Linka, because her hair was blonde, and I always had to be Gi, because my hair was black. “Ashley N. wants to play,” Carolyn said. They had to call me Ashley N. because they didn’t want to confuse me with Ashley P. or Ashley J., and I was okay with it, because it sounded a whole lot better than Asian Ashley, which nobody was allowed to call me anymore, after Kevin Rodriguez got sent to the principal’s office for it. “She can’t play,” Kevin Rodriguez said. “We already have two girl rangers.” “She can be the Yellow Ranger,” Mark DiManco said, hanging by his legs from the top of the jungle gym.
“I’m the Yellow Ranger,” Stephanie Clark complained. She always pouted whenever she didn’t get her way, which was quite a lot. “Ashley N. has to be the Yellow Ranger. Trini is Asian, too!”
French Fry Zine
Vol. 1
Page
31
That was the day that Stephanie Clark got into a big fight with Mark DiManco, and when Principal Gutierrez found out, nobody was allowed to play Power Rangers anymore at school. So, instead, Carolyn and I would play Power Rangers ourselves. It was our secret – girls weren’t supposed to like Power Rangers, because of the fighting. We liked it, though. It was like Sailor Moon - that one Japanese cartoon that was always on at 6:00 in the morning, with the cute girls in sailor outfits with moon magic. That show wasn’t for boys, but it had lots of fighting in it, too. 4:00 in the afternoon was when we underwent our own Moon Magic transformations, our own Morphin’ Time. When Mrs. Vermillion was out for work, me and Carolyn would sip our Shasta Black Cherry and park ourselves in front of the TV. For a couple hours, we weren’t Carolyn Vermillion and Ashley Nguyen, half-white half-Asian crossbreeds struggling to find our place amongst our peers. We were Sailor Moon and Sailor Venus, Kimberly and Trini, Pink Ranger and Yellow Ranger, able to sit and enjoy some shows that were equal parts Asian and equal parts American, just like us. It was comforting, in a way. We never talked about it, not in so direct terms, but that’s because we were just kids. The only discussions we had then were fueled by Shasta Black Cherry and Fruit-Roll-Ups, the kind with the little temporary tattoos on the paper. We would take them home from our school lunches, eating all the cheese and sauce off our square pizza slices before throwing away all of the rest – except for the Fruit-Roll-Ups. We’d talk a lot about things – things that would shape the way we looked at things for the rest of our lives, in ways we never would realize until I look back at them now. Our first Halloween after Power Rangers came out, the shelves at Target were loaded with ranger costumes. I remember picking mine – Yellow Ranger. It wasn’t even a conscious decision – it was in the cart, paid for by mom, and taken home to wear in the span of 20 minutes. I called Carolyn’s house as soon as I could, talking really fast, both because I was super excited, and also because I wasn’t allowed to use the house phone for too long, in case daddy was getting a work phone call. I ended up going over to Carolyn’s anyway, because she wanted help picking her costume. I was confused, because I thought she for sure was going to be Kimberly. She was always Kimberly, and I thought maybe she wanted to be Trini. That would have been okay with me, because I really liked Carolyn, and would have traded with her in a heartbeat if that’s what she really wanted. Trick or treating with her was more important than what costume I was going to be wearing. She knew all the good houses, and one of her neighbors was really nice and gave out free hotdogs to everyone, which was super yummy. When I got there, she seemed so upset – not the kind of upset where mom was yelling at her, where she would get all sad, but the super worried kind of upset where you don’t want to get your spelling test back.
“Carolyn,” I asked her, “What’s wrong?” She showed me the bag she’d gotten from Target, before her mom left for work. I recognized the logo instantly – Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers. “Oh, you got it! Yay! That’s so great!” “Ashley,” she said, not even looking at me. She motioned for me to pull the costume out of the bag all the way, so I did. I did, and I thought I understood.
32
“Oh no! It’s okay, Sandra can return it, right?” Mrs. Vermillion didn’t like me calling her Mrs. Vermillion because it made her sound old. The costume was for the Green Ranger. We both really liked the Green Ranger. I thought Tommy was cute, and Carolyn thought he was the strongest – and he had a pet dragon robot, which was super cool. Carolyn was shaking her head, though. “I picked this one,” she said, so worried, and almost sad. “I want to wear this one.”
Page
“But you can’t wear this one,” I said, so confused. “Tommy is a boy.” “I know,” Carolyn said. She took the bag and the costume from my hands and held it close to her chest. “But I still want to be the Green Ranger.”
French Fry Zine
Vol. 1
I didn’t understand why she was so upset over something so small. I mean, sure, there were rules, right? Girls were Pink Rangers or Yellow Rangers. Girls watched Sailor Moon. Girls read the Babysitters Club. But the best part of rules, were breaking them. I gave her a hug, because I didn’t want Carolyn to cry. It wouldn’t be the last time I talked her through something confusing, but I didn’t know or care about any of that back then. That Halloween night, we were Trini and Tommy - not Ashley and Carolyn – having the time of our lives, and stuffing our pillowcases with candy. The next year, we were Serena and Darien – Sailor Moon and Tuxedo Mask. It was her idea, not mine, and it wouldn’t be the last time we shared a special day with her in a tux. It was a pattern of ours – breaking rules, as natural to us as settling down at 4:00 to catch a new adventure with the Rangers. Instead of being who everyone told us we should be, we discovered – together - how much more fun it was to be the girls we wanted to be… students by day, taking on all the scariness of the world together, just like the heroes we shared, over 25 cent cans of Shasta Black Cherry.
ghazal for saskia Page
33
By Liza E-L
French Fry Zine
Vol. 1
would i journal color-coded if i didn’t know you? snap blurry pictures by the dozen just to show you? legs for days blaze a locker-side trail hard not to follow you sistersister to distant mom it’s touch and go with you your mom’s smile creases in your cheeks scissored crop-tops echo you no days forgotten since september and that’s so you nights, fears press to page under covers lit by the glow of you.
34 Page Vol. 1 French Fry Zine
Linocut Print, “Campfire”, by Amy Berebeim
French Fry Zine
Vol. 1 Page
35
French Fry Zine
Vol. 1
Page
36