The Metonymist 2022

The

Metonymist

The Meadows School’s Journal of Literature and the Arts

Volume 11 Spring 2022

The

Metonymist Founded 2007

The Meadows School 8601 Scholar Lane, Las Vegas, NV 89128

Acknowledgements Mr. Jeremy Gregersen, Head of School Ms. Dana Larson, Director of Upper School Mr. Steve DeVito, Creative Writing Teacher & English Department Chair Cover Design: Dani Matheson

Metonymist Editors: The Meadows School Creative Writing Class 21-22 Alexis Coffee Ella Maurice Gia Orsini Mathew Stephen

Note from Mr. DeVito This year’s Creative Writing class was such a joy as students brought their talents and enthusiasm to the many challenging assignments and projects. One challenge was having a small class size, just four students, but this opportunity created a very tight-knit group of writers that eagerly shared their art, dared to step into that vulnerable space where peer feedback can sometimes be unsettling, and encouraged each other to be their best selves as they explored the world through words. I’m honored to have helped nurture these students’ already great strengths, and I hope you will be entertained and inspired as you read their creative perspectives of the world translated into the written arts. Please enjoy this year’s Metonymist!

SD

Table of Contents

In order of appearance:

Poetry Gia Orsini “Nature” Gia Orsini “Destiny” Alexis Coffee “Stalker” Alexis Coffee “Judgment” Gia Orsini “To Be A Ghost” Gia Orsini “Clarity” Ella Maurice “Heartbeat” Ella Maurice “1813” Mathew Stephen “Alliteration is an awesome apparatus” Mathew Stephen “Bolt” Mathew Stephen “Joined the Army to Serve the Nation” Mathew Stephen “Missed the Memo” Mathew Stephen “[ ]” Mathew Stephen “Out & About” Mathew Stephen “Balling” Mathew Stephen “Sleep” Zara Pehlivani (Guest contributor) “Butterfly Garden” Zara Pehlivani “Drop by Drop” Zara Pehlivani “The Source of Inspiration”

7 7 7 8 9 10 11 12 14 15 16 18 18 19 20 20 21 22 24

Prose & One-Act Plays, Gia Orsina “Cereus” 24 Alexis Coffee “The Grade” 34 Gia Orsina “To John” 49 Ella Maurice “The Boy” 52 Ella Maurice “It’s Only Been An Hour” 68 Mathew Stephen “It’s Raining Cats and Dogs” 86 Mathew Stephen “POTUS (Puppets of the United States)” 104

Table of Contents

By contributor:

Alexis Coffee Senior “Stalker” “Judgment” “The Grade”

7 8 34

Ella Maurice Sophomore “Heartbeat” “1813” “The Boy” “It’s Only Been An Hour”

11 12 52 68

Gia Orsini Sophomore “Nature” ” “Destiny” “To Be A Ghost” “Clarity” “Cereus” “To John” Mathew Stephen Senior “Alliteration is an awesome apparatus” “Bolt” “Joined the Army to Serve the Nation” “Missed the Memo” “[ ]” “Out & About” “Balling” “Sleep” “It’s Raining Cats and Dogs” “POTUS (Puppets of the United States)” Zara Pehlivani (Guest Contributor) Freshman “Butterfly Garden” “Drop by Drop “The Source of Inspiration”

7 7 9 10 24 49

14 15 16 18 18 19 20 20 86 104

21 22 24

Poetry Nature by Gia Orsini All unions, all emotions Are forced in this world Somehow we found each other And we fit just right Like an eclipse

Destiny by Gia Orsini A mysterious sounding word Everyone has one but for most unknown We’re all waiting for something amazing Terrified that it is passing us by Without the alignment of stars and planets We’re disappointed and unimpressed Standing telescopes Analyzing microscopes Oblivious of the kaleidoscope we’re standing in Stalker by Alexis Coffee She follows me around Always waiting for when I’m weak.

I run and run but she always catches me,

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Wanting to take my soul, She injures me and makes me bleed.

She smiles when I confront her like she’s won.

I pull out the weapon aiming it in her direction, The shot goes off shattering my reflection.

Judgment by Alexis Coffee Scared for you to open your mouth Because I know judgment will follow.

Then sometimes you don’t speak and relief fills my body But then the silent judgment becomes just as deadly.

No matter what I do It’ll never be good enough.

And though I’m happy the way I am And will never change I still crave your acceptance.

I want you to be proud of who I am, But for that to happen I would have to change.

And I’ve tried before to be different And though I know you were happy, The change was slowly killing me.

Now I’ve reverted back into my old ways And I can see behind your eyes the disappointment you feel towards me.

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Maybe one day if I’m successful enough you’ll be proud And the judgment will stop.

But I truly believe it never will.

Unless I become just like you.

And that fate scares me more than what I have now.

Until then I’ll suffer in silence Pretending how you feel towards me doesn’t matter Closing my ears off from your criticism And closing my eyes from your disappointment.

To Be A Ghost by Gia Orsini Let’s recount before I forget Of what my family thought of me Before I became nothing more than a sudden blink of the past Lost in what new manifesto is forced and demanded of me Photographed as a traumatized weak girl who breaks down from any

reminder of what occurred from the night of her premature death Of which she will never resurrect from because she is stigmatized

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so severely people can't look into her eyes without cringing And no one can ever adapt to alienation from all

Even those who were meant as an empathizer seemed refined and synthetic or occupied with stumbling away from the torment of their memory, unable to assist others in their trauma Now I independently search Even if society would rather keep me a silent ghost

Clarity by Gia Orsini I could liken you to a noose The way you suffocated life away from me But I’ll admit that I did provide a warranted crime

Fixated on your every move Isolation was the first step in trapping me I could liken you to a noose

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Moods swinging like a pendulum Making me feel small was your favorite pastime But I’ll admit that I did provide a warented crime

Once a voice that stood tall is now muffled and meek I could liken you to a noose

The embers you made me become are hot from wanting to teach you a lesson But I’ll admit that I did provide a warranted crime

So while my mind subjects me to worry if I will ever see your vile face again I could liken you to a noose But I’ll admit that I did provide a warranted crime Heartbeat by Ella Maurice You tell me to make a different choice Don’t you think I would have if I had the chance But what if someone made this choice for me Someone took my right to choose without a thought I live with a body cruelly taken I’ll tell you, this is the choice I want to make

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Maybe I did choose, but life wasn’t there It’s not what I want, but what I have to do I want her so much, but I have no choice I could never cause her that world of pain Don’t be selfish, this is what’s best for her I’ll tell you, this is the choice I need to make Please, let me move on from these awful thoughts Do you have to deal with the consequences?

“She has a heartbeat. She feels, thinks, and hears” So can I. Why is my life not worth saving?

Does my heart not beat fast enough for you?

1813 by Ella Maurice Dear Matthew, Tomorrow marks a change for the both of us, one I’m sure you’ll loathe.

From now on my thoughts must be of her and only her. My new wife.

How can I carry on with you knowing you’ll share the same bedroom?

One day there will be beds built specifically for those like us.

A bed in which we can lay hidden, away from the prying eyes.

I won’t come to you either. After all, you'll have a wife one day.

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But will you remember me even as you stand at the altar?

As you hold your children in your arms will you recall my comfort?

I’ll forever be replaced, as I’ll hold no candle to your wife.

I say this knowing you’ll hold no candle to mine, and out of fear.

You know I hate change. I’m tempted to not go tomorrow at all.

How can I be a good husband and father when I still love you?

My fears of leaving you don’t come close to your fears of being left.

And that’s why this is hard. How will you manage without my help?

Who will help you navigate an onslaught of young prospective brides?

You won’t be able to call on me at all hours of the night.

Who will reassure you that you are just the man you need to be?

It shouldn’t have to end like this, but we can’t be together now.

When I think about what comes next for us I am truly afraid.

Because the next chapter in our story has a sad conclusion.

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I’ve thought through every option, but nothing can be done to help us.

But I’m sure that one day we will be in each other’s arms again.

Not in this lifetime, or the next, or maybe three lifetimes from now.

People like us will live freely, and it won’t be 1813.

Forever yours, Richard Alliteration is an awesome apparatus

by Mathew Stephen Peter piper picked a peck of pickled peppers Sally sells seashells by the seashore Alliteration is an awesome apparatus I wish we would live in this world Where we would write with repetition Everything can easily be easier Stating solely similar statements Groups of galvanizing words Taking this to the next level Really residing in my own realm Fighting against the foolish folklore Of overly oral tales of history I’m in my own igloo

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I’m immune to the insanity I’m immune to the idiocy Epicenter of the English epidemic Nobody cannot negate My mighty mind Peter piper picked a peck of pickled peppers Sally sells seashells by the seashore Alliteration is an awesome apparatus Bolt by Mathew Stephen Play ball outside with the boys Come back inside, close the door We laugh back into the house An anthill is on the floor We throw out the anthill Anthills are now nevermore We chill on the couches, talking The lights cut out, door to door The sky is falling downwards The roof is now nevermore Haunted house vibes pervade us We’re consumed by the dark moor A dark, slim figure finds us Really, what are we waiting for?

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The man pulls out a question mark And slices, now I’ve a red floor Now my skin feels insanely cold My brethren are nevermore I seek a window to run And jump -- Now I live no more Or so I thought to myself It should’ve been my final snore But a bolt hit my antenna As if I got help from Thor Last of the house burning now I ask to sleep in next door As if nothing had happened I ask to sleep on the floor As if nothing had happened I go around, door to door As if nothing had happened My home is ash to the core As if the house wasn’t even built Joined the army to serve the nation by Mathew Stephen Joined the army to serve the nation After school, I’ve graduated Away from home, my childhood shaven

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Joined the crew with my brother Nathan Working out until I’m wasted Joined the army to serve the nation Deployed into battle for an invasion Prepared for the moment, I’m motivated Away from home, my childhood shaven They’ve surrounded me, full infiltration Look at the mess that we’ve created Joined the army to serve the nation Red soil around us, now it’s just me and Nathan Our chances of winning have substantially faded Away from home, my childhood shaven Praying for life, I’m at the 14th station Geysers erupt through Nathan’s back, I’m devastated Away from home, my childhood shaven Joined the army to serve the nation

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Missed the Memo by Mathew Stephen No trucks or cars driving around my home On the long way to my classes at school It's windy outside, the weather is cool Quiet on the freeway like Sherlock Holmes.

Not sure how come no one is out and about Maybe today we students have no school Maybe, good people, there is some unknown rule I traverse the way the morning throughout I pull into the empty parking lot Morning sky as colorful as tie-dye Walking in the lot now, not at all hot I approach the door to see if it's locked, Turns out that I can't get in, I say bye, Red as a beet, I drive back to my spot. [ ] by Mathew Stephen I'm in a [ ].

I can't escape.

But I can't speak (Otherwise, I can't pay my rent).

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Everyone looks at me With laughter.

I enjoy the company and confusing kids.

I return home With a mug full of paper, Happy to see my family.

Living the good life.

Time to wash off the paint and [_].

Out and about by Mathew Stephen Out in the woods Birds are tweeting Branches breaking Out where life’s good In a haven from distraction Away from all of the Tweets.

Away from the interactions.

To the roads from the streets Self-thinking about my actions

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Eating some onions and beets.

Balling by Mathew Stephen Quiet mornings Song after song Dark as the night Again, it’s morning.

All but me snore Squint at the air Lift up my arms Like a plane seat Flick my wrist - Swish!

Now: Squint, Swish, Repeat.

Sleep by Mathew Stephen Trying to close my eyes But my eyes stay alert.

Tomorrow’s the day.

But I’m too excited To sleep in silence.

All of a sudden, I shake My left leg quakes I wish I did not drink That cup of coffee

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And that cup of green tea I feel my heart pump It will puncture my chest.

Butterfly Garden by Zara Pehlivani Just This morning, I went outside To my peach tree, Mourning A loved one lost, but I Found comfort in the crosses Of the branches of that tree-For me, I think that souls live on in nature Their kindness remembered, their Beautiful lovely stature Coiling out, as it coils out in that tree.

Its roots weave down Down into the ground Rooting me into it, rooting the memory, The sensory Signals that remind me of her.

And as I looked up at pink flowers I saw a bee, two bees, many bees, And it struck me, the ease With which they buzzed around, the Simplicities Of their lifestyle as they feed

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On nectar and feed The lives of others. Humans Humans feed the lives of others, Like mothers, Like Mother Nature And while she leaves us with grief, She leaves us Butterflies Living on in their cycle, flying From leaf to leaf, and we know That although She is not here in person, Her love is still here; Her spirit lives here; Her kindness is here; And for me, I think, That this butterfly Reminds me Of her.

Drop by Drop by Zara Pehlivani Winner 2021!

Drop by drop the liquid flow of time Slithers through the crevices of mind; Its never ending tiptoe sneaks past you, away In cold and shameless manner ending yet another day.

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Day by day it slithers out your fingers meek, And in its place it slithers in another week; You have some fun in segments there and here – And before you know it’s slithered in another year.

On Earth we all are filaments of finite thread, Slaves as it unwinds until it’s dead; Knowing yet ignoring bouts of lucid fate As yet another year transcends our lives to date.

Yet for the sorrow, anger, guilt, and dread, The spool itself is golden glowing gilded thread; And everything within its shine, Is living, elegant, superb, divine.

There is but one thing I treasure most: The multifaceted and timeless host; The happiness of all my days; The ear to everything I say.

In spirit she is infinite to me, A constant friend and luxury, Support to all my merry prides, Enemy to all my horrid sides.

Though drop by drop the liquid flow of time Slithers through the crevices of mind, And though the days may slip through all our fingers meek,

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From crevices of mind my own she will not ever leak.

The Source of Inspiration by Zara Pehlivani Winner 2021!

Footsteps echo in the wooden halls, Voices murmur in between the walls, There is beauty in the vast and tall, Brown and hazel - like an ancient call.

The scent of paper flows in golden drifts, A soothing cedar mixed with ember's gifts; The tired pictures from a thousand people's heads Lay to rest on leather-bound and parchment beds.

Prose & One-Act Plays

Cereus by Gia Orsini Winner 2021 There was a child of six years old child named Catalina who since birth moved around the country 16 times. She never knew why her mamá always insisted that they move what seemed like every other week and why she would only see her dad late at night. Trying to pry answers

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from Mamá was like retaining composure during one of their frequent arguments: impossible. Catalina also rarely received attention from her since Mamá worked many jobs.

Mamá sensed her only daughter’s frustration and was in need of free labor so she decided to put her to work at her food truck. This truck was the only job that stuck every time they moved since it was always a success and they could just use their beaten-down red Chevy that mamá could never pronounce correctly, which embarrassed Catalina. No matter where they moved, everyone loved mamá's empanada food truck business called the Media Luna. They took the truck everywhere: outside car dealerships, law firms, construction sites, and even supermarket parking lots. The first time mamá took Catalina to work, she was so excited because she rarely had the privilege of spending time with her and was excited to begin a new relationship with her like the ones she read in books that Tia Coca gifted her from the library. Her dreams unfortunately never came to fruition since mamá would only order her around to crease the undone empanadas. This task needed to be done like lightning since there was always a long line of people.

Her record time eventually was two seconds, which was faster than mamá. Though the product proved to be popular, the profits were never high because gas was so

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expensive and so were the meats of the empanadas but it paid the bills. She loved watching her daughter because so many emotions raced across her face which could be evident in how well she creased the empanadas. If she felt observed and nervous, the folds would come out all crooked and rushed. Catalina was most content when deep in thought, because the half-moons would come looking beautifully with just enough egg yolk brushed to make them shine before sunken in the deep fryer or baked. This was mamá’s only way of becoming close to her daughter because Catalina was unusually shy, probably because she had yet been enrolled into school.

The little girl was obsessed with her father she loved everything about him. She loved his honesty about life and his famous gnocchi in sage butter which seemed to remedy her disappointment when she hadn't seen him for a couple of days. Most of all, she loved the stories he would tell. His booming voice would perfectly illustrate the emotions of the characters in the children’s books they would read together on special occasions. Her favorite emotion he would act was one she did not yet know the word for, longing. He would talk this way when she asked him why they move so much. He would say

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"My work would be the easy answer but it's a lot more than that. I have dreams for this family that can only be accomplished by making some dough. I know I'm not around that much but you'll thank me later. I promise."

He worked as a gambler, or I should actually say he was an addict.

The little girl argued that she could never make any friends and he advised this five-year-old child “Bah! Friends will only leave you. If ya wanna be happier, and I know this will work on you cause you have a wild imagination “just believe that every time we move it's like we are exploring the world!"

Exploring a new world, Catalina thought to herself.

Her Tia Coca tried to create that via books. She was the only adult in Catalina’s life who tried to support her interests, even if it didn’t work out. When Catalina was about seven years old, she wanted to be a ballet dancer badly. She would practice in the biggest room of their current living situation in San Francisco, but it was difficult since she couldn’t fully extend her long legs without hitting the walls to pretend to jump into a graceful spin while Tia Coca played classical music on the record player someone had carelessly left out on the street. Wanting to nurture Catalina’s interests, Tia

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Coca tried to find a ballet class for her but all the classes were full and the only one that was open was a dancing aerobics class and “dancing” was the only word Coca needed to hear in order for her to sign Catalina up. Now it was time to tell Catalina the news.

“Nena, I got you dancing lessons! you start tomorrow at 8” Contrary to Coca’s expectation, Catalina had a sour face of disappointment.

“I can’t go. You forgot that I go with mamá in the mornings to the Media Luna. She needs me and I can’t let her down.”

Coca knew this when looking at the class however it was the only time slot open. She also knew mamá wouldn’t be happy but was willing to risk facing her wrath if it meant realizing a passion for Catalina.

“You worry too much little one! I already told her you weren’t going to make it and she said that you better be dancing like Garciela Daniele by the time the class is over.”

Catalina giggled and bulldozed Coca’s slender figure with a hug and pulled away to thank her properly. The joy that was expressed in Catalina’s caricature of a smile made the sacrifice of five dollars for the class well worth it in Coca’s eyes. When they arrived at the studio, Catalina was

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confused that all the other participants were fat middle-aged women dressed in tight clothes that outlined all of their imperfections. Being that Catalina had never made any friends before which could be blamed on her family’s frequent “explorations”, she was an extremely shy child and didn’t know how awkward dance class was going to be otherwise she would have never begged to go. Coca was only mildly confused since she believed there would have been more children but then had the realization that maybe this is how classes are done in America. What Catalina would realize later was that “Dancing Aerobics Class” was meant for older women trying to lose weight by dancing badly and quickly to loud, techno music. Catalina couldn’t keep up with the other ladies which made her feel as if it was her fault she didn’t understand how to dance which

only

lowered

her

already

non-existent

self-confidence. After ten minutes of torture, Catalina ran to Coca’s arms sobbing loudly and said “I can’t do this and I don't want to anymore!!! I don’t want to be a dancer ever! I-” Coca pounced on Catalina’s foul words with “Cállate! Listen to me good. You will finish this class and then you will never ever again have to do a single dance class. Make my money worthwhile. If you can’t keep up, at

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least try your ballet moves since now you have all this space! Use your head.”

Catalina wiped the tears from her eyes and said “But nobody else is doing ballet and I would look silly and they would laugh and-” Coca responded with “Aye but you don’t have time to care about what anyone else thinks, and who cares anyways! These women look ridiculous! If anyone laughs, say something snappy and I will gladly leave this place with you querida.”

Sniffling, Catalina returned to her assigned spot of the dance floor and began to move with such emotion to the glaring techno music, it was both beautiful and hilarious.

Coca congratulated her on a successful ballet performance and said that they could have their own set up outside of the apartment since all they really lacked was space. For the first time, Catalina felt confident and now idolized Coca as the only person who wanted and believed in her. She was tired of ma ordering her around and only conversing by yelling. She missed her dad who had been away for six months by now and she was beginning to grow resentful.

The only stability in her life was Coca.

They walked home and came upon a flock of pigeons in which Catalina would chase around, always

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tripping on the uneven path of cobblestone, scraping the delicate skin of her knees. She didn’t care because of the amazing day she was spending with Coca and it got better when they began to smell sweet, hot, oil that could only have been coming from a doughnut shop. Nothing could beat this smell for Catalina. Not even when they had gone to a county fair while living in Austin, Texas. San Francisco had the best doughnuts out of every place she had gone to.

Unfortunately, they were too expensive to buy, but at three every afternoon, they would throw away the ones they hadn’t sold in the morning since they weren’t fresh anymore, so Coca ordered Catalina to go inside the dumpster to get a few for themselves. She also asked her to throw over any tin cans she saw. This seemed like a strange request to Catalina but she did as she was told. They ended up carrying about fifty cans home and savored their plain glazed doughnuts that felt like biting into a pillow. Catalina didn’t know, but Coca collected these cans to sell for one cent each to the government just to make some extra money for Catalina’s future. They ended up saving two-thousand dollars over the years which would help pay for Catalina’s first car.

When they arrived home, mamá was waiting at the door, smoldering with anger at the sight of them. Coca felt

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her stare from 100 yards away and attempted to save Catalina by telling her to play with the frogs for a little while outside before heading in since they always came out in the late evenings. She gladly went and saw some other kids her age walking around where the frogs were too. This made her scared, but Coca’s words of wisdom were ringing through her head still and this gave her the courage to go.

None of the other kids could catch the frogs since they were too loud and slow. Catalina found a milk jug lying around and carefully slid all of her findings into it which amazed the other kids. She ended up finding about 20 frogs and their mesmerizing ribbiting made the other kids ask “How much are you planning to sell those frogs for?”

She wasn’t even planning this but now her father’s voice entered her head when he was trying to teach her about hustling people. The number one rule he told her was to start with a high price and work your way to a compromise.

If the buyer seemed like an idiot, over-sell the product and don’t budge because if they are in fact an idiot, you have to believe that whatever you were selling is worth every penny. Catalina deduced that these kids were kind of stupid so she answered “Ten dollars”

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The kids looked at her as if she was crazy and started to walk away. In a hurry, Catalina explained, “They are magical frogs. Their song is only sung by them and no other frog in the world.”

Magic caught the kids’ attention and they stopped in their tracks and asked, “Why should we care if they have a one-of-a-kind song?”

To which Catalina replied, “Because if you own the song, by paying ten dollars, then it magically makes you happy. See how much I’m smiling! and now I just want to share happiness with everyone!”

This seemed to make sense to the other kids and after a failed afternoon of trying to catch frogs, they could use some happiness. They agreed to the ten dollars and who could have guessed that they soon became all smiley and filled with laughter after the purchase. Satisfied with her business skills, Catalina danced back to the apartment to come to a scene of mamá yelling at Tia Coca with a rage never heard before. The glow of adventure and confidence Catalina had obtained through the day slowly began to dim as Mamá’s bellows became louder and louder. Catalina wanted to hide, to shove herself into the milk carton with

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her magical frogs forever being happy but she knew the happiness she felt during the day would decay now as the sun settled into the night.

The Grade by Alexis Coffee It’s the Friday night of a long weekend. Two girls who should be out enjoying the night are secretly hiding in the janitor’s closet of their high school. They wait till everyone has left and the lights of the halls dim to exit the small space. They walk through the silent hallways till they reach the end, where right around the corner lies the principal's office.

Sam [whispers to lex] Come on.

Lex I don’t think this is a good idea.

Sam Oh stop worrying everyone’s already left. We won’t be caught.

Lex Well, what if they come back?

Sam [she rolls her eyes] You were fine when we talked about this earlier.

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Lex Well I didn’t realize how bad of an idea this was until now.

Sam God Lex do you want to fail the class, because that's what will happen if we don’t do this.

Lex Maybe we can do extra work to raise our grade.

Sam It's the end of the semester, no amount of work can change our grades from a D to a B+ in a day. You’re the one that wants to go to some fancy college, I doubt they’d take you with a D. Lex [she sighs] You’re right we need to do this, but please let’s just make this quick Sam Okay, I’ll be quick, I promise. [she then turns her head peaking at the office from around the corner] I’ll go into the office and you’ll stay out here and be look out.

Lex [Sam moves to head into the office when Lex quickly stops her by pulling back on her arm]

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Wait!

Sam What's the problem now!

Lex I’m the look out?! What do I do if someone comes?

Sam I doubt anyone will come back at this time, but if they do just give me a signal and then go distract them.

Lex Distract them with what?

Sam I don’t know, try dancing for them.

Lex You really think that will work?

Sam No dummy I was joking, just make an excuse for why you're here.

Lex Oh ok, yeah I can do that.

Sam [Sam looks down at her arm that’s still being held by Lex] Will you let go of me now so we can do this?

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Lex [releasing her grip] Oh yeah, sorry.

They both slowly walk around the corner and head over to the office. Sam goes inside and goes to the desk right across from the door where the computer is. Lex remains standing in the doorway of the office watching the dark halls.

Lex [Whispers] You almost done?

Sam It’s been like one minute, give me some more time.

Lex Please hurry.

Sam I can’t if you keep bothering me.

Lex Ok, ok. I’ll stop talking.

Sam Thanks.

A noise comes from one of the hallways.

Lex: [Anxiety filling her body] I think someone is here.

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Sam [Not paying attention to what Lex is saying] Uh-huh Suddenly Lex sees a janitor appear at the end of the hallway. She leaves the doorway to go distract him without giving any signal to Sam. Minutes have passed and Lex is still occupied with the Janitor as Sam finishes hacking into the grading system.

Principal Jones: Sam Parker?

Sam [She looks up absolutely mortified to see Mr. Jones standing in the entrance of the office] Principle Jones.

A big bang then fills the entire room and Mr. Jones falls to the floor, with Lex standing over him with a fire extinguisher. Both girls begin to freak out with the fear of being caught.

Sam Oh my god!

Lex Oh my god!

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Sam What the hell are you doing?

Lex I don’t know! It was the first thing that I thought of.

Sam What to knock out our principle?

Lex [Her mind racing with thoughts about the mess she has just created] Oh my god! Oh my god! I’m going to be expelled, Sam! Screw the grade ruining my transcript, I just hit our principle. What college will take me now?

Sam Umm, I’d be worried about the assault charges, rather than the expulsion.

Lex [She looks at Sam with big eyes filled with panic] Assault charges?

Sam Well yeah, you hit him on the head with a fire extinguisher, I think that counts as assault!

Lex

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[The panic takes over starting the rambling of everything in her mind] Holy shit I’m gonna go to jail! My life is completely ruined!

I’m gonna be locked up for most of my life so that by the time I get out I’ll be old. My hope of getting into a good college and becoming successful is over. My family will abandon me and I’ll have to work on the streets to survive. Then I’ll be arrested again for prostitution and it’ll be a never ending cycle! And all over one stupid little grade! ISam [Cutting her off] You’re not going to jail, stop freaking out!

Lex I just assaulted someone! Of course I’m going to jail!

Sam Don’t worry we can fix this, it's okay, we’ll come up with something. You only assaulted him, it's not like you killed him.

They both look down at him unconscious on the floor.

Lex Shit! Is he dead? He’s not moving!

Sam Of course he’s not moving, he's knocked out.

Lex

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You sure because I don’t hear breathing.

Sam Come on, you didn’t hit him that hard. Did you?

Lex I killed someone!!!

Sam No you didn’t. Just check his pulse.

Lex No, I don’t want to touch him, you check his pulse.

Sam Why the hell would I check his pulse? You’re the one that hit him.

Lex I hit him because he caught you!

Sam Well he wouldn’t have caught me if you had been doing your job.

Lex I was doing my job! It’s not my fault there were two people in the building. This was also your idea!

Sam Fine, I will check his pulse just because it was my idea.

Sam bends down and puts two of her fingers on his neck.

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Sam [Sighs in relief] Oh thank god, he’s breathing.

While her fingers are still pressed against his neck Principle Jones slowly begins to wake up. Another bang then happens and he’s back to his unconscious state.

Sam What the frick!

Lex I’m sorry!

Sam Why would you hit him again?

Lex He was waking up!

Sam That doesn’t mean you assault him, again!

Lex What else should I’ve done?

Sam Literally anything, but that!

[She points to the fire extinguisher in her hand] Please just put the fire extinguisher down before you actually kill him.

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Lex then sets the extinguisher outside the doorway of the office.

Lex Umm this second time didn’t kill him right?

Sam [Rolls her eyes and puts her fingers back onto his neck] Crap.

Lex What?

Sam [Continues to move her two fingers across his neck] I can’t feel a pulse!

Lex What do you mean you can’t feel a pulse?

Sam I mean I can’t feel a pulse! Is there any other way you’d like me to say it?

Lex [Bends down to the body and places her fingers on his neck] I can’t feel a pulse.

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Sam [Sarcastically] Oh really?

Lex [Ignoring the sarcasms] What are we going to do!

Sam I don’t know.

Lex [Panicking] What do you mean you don’t know! You’re always getting into trouble, how do you get out of it?

Sam I get out of trouble for skipping a class or sneaking out not hiding a damn body!

Lex Well trouble is trouble.

Sam This is not even close to being on the same level!

Lex Please, you have to think of something.

Sam [A few moments pass with her walking back and forth thinking.]

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Okay I got it. We hide the body.

Lex What the hell are you talking about?

Sam What the hell do you mean “what am I talking about?” He’s dead and we’re responsible! We need to get rid of him if we don’t want to go to jail.

Lex That is the dumbest plan you could’ve come up with! We can’t hide a fricken body!

Sam You got a better plan because I’m all ears!

Lex [Thinks to herself for a few seconds] Crap! We have to hide the body.

Sam [To Lex's acknowledgement of her plan] Thank you.

Lex Okay how?

Sam

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Well we just need to find a way to get him to our car and then once he’s in the trunk we drive into the middle of the forest.

Once we are deep in the woods we dig a whole put his body in there, then recover it. Then we are crime free.

Lex Okay, but what if the cops start looking for him because he’s missing.

Sam That's not our problem. We’re just two students, they aren’t going to question us.

Lex Okay, well, what if an animal smells his body and digs him up.

Sam That's why we have to remove his teeth and fingers, so he can’t be identified.

Lex That's disgusting! I can’t do that!

Sam Well, it’s that or be arrested!

Lex Can’t we just call the cops and tell them we found him like this.

Sam No because then they could see us as suspects because we are the only ones around when we aren’t even supposed to be here.

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Lex Crap, you're right. Fine, are you sure your plan will even work?

Sam Well I saw it in a Criminal Minds episode and the killer got a way with it, so maybe.

Lex Okay let's do it and get it over with.

They both go over to him and begin to lift from both ends of his body.

Principle Jones Mmm Sam & Lex Did he just groan?

Principle Jones Mmm Sam [She drops his feet and looks up above her in relief] Oh thank you God! I was just bluffing there was no way in hell I could remove his teeth. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Lex [Signs in relief] Great, he's alive. Now what do we do?

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Sam [Silent for a while] Why don’t we just leave?

Lex What?

Sam Why don’t we just put him in his chair and leave.

Lex But that doesn’t solve our problem of him seeing you.

Sam: Did he see me though?

Lex Umm ya. He literally said your name before I hit him.

Sam Yes, but what if he thought it was all a dream.

Lex [Thinks for a bit, but then comes to the realization of Sam's plan] Oh my God. Sam He’ll never really know if it was real. He’ll just think he fell asleep and it was all in his imagination.

Lex [Goes and huggs Sam tightly]

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You are a genius! Come on, let's move him.

They both move Mr. Jones into his chair at the desk then lay his head down on his laptop. They quickly leave the room and walk back to their car with the principal still asleep in his chair.

Lex Hey, did you ever change our grade?

Sam Do you really think I would go through all that trouble without changing our grade? B+ baby, let's go celebrate!

The girls both smile at each other, hop into the car, leaving the school.

To John by Gia Orsini My grandma is an excellent communicator . . . through writing. She is from China so keeping in touch with her friends and family has made her keen on writing letters every other day. I believe an unintended consequence of this is learning English better, which is strange because she writes in Cantonese. I think the habit of writing has helped her with language in general. But as far as verbal communication she is terrible and this has only been

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exacerbated by her old age. She is practically deaf and is too prideful to wear a hearing aid so people get frustrated with her when all she can say is “EH?” On top of the tremendous struggle to be understood and to understand she is incurably headstrong and stubborn to a fault. Did I mention she is ninety - one years old? Sometimes we will watch movies together and in our attempts to be inclusive John and I will ask “What do you want to watch Yin Yin?” She will always answer something with “Something with action and gangsters.” It had scared me that she was such an inherently violent person all her life. She even beat her five year old daughter over the head with a frying pan because she was being too loud. It just now occurred to me that the action in movies for her is like reading lips-even if she can’t pick up on the dialogue, she knows what is going on because of the exaggerated nature of the genre. As I hear Fox News blasting downstairs from her room, I wonder if that channel has any of the same appeal. The voices are always unmistakably betrayed and frustrated and angry. It’s the tone she understands- like a dog- they do not understand good or bad; they understand high friendly tones good dog! And stern, loud, short, bad dog. This coupled with the one line headline at the bottom

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of the screen: “Biden claims to want to unite the country” equates to my grandma’s understanding of the news after watching it all day. I know most people aren’t ninety-one, deaf, and speak English as a second language, but this could theoretically explain at least in part her fascination with Fox News. It is rather ironic that she holds a lot of radical republican views like demanding stricter immigration laws and harsher punishments for illegals when she herself was an illegal immigrant for twenty years. I know because I had to make fake documents for her. I married the typical liberal hipster and she drives him crazy, so much that John wants to move her into an old people’s home. This has put a lot of strain on our marriage. How dare he have the audacity to think he has a voice of where my grandma lives and how petty of him to want her to move out just because of her politics. It’s almost like they are a microcosm of the political tension in America today. Anyway, I have to get ready for dinner, it’s John’s forty - second birthday and we are going to Bridgers and by his request not inviting my grandma who is barely able to see the light of day, only by her window where she rests her hand on the bridge of her neck and chin with a longing expression cemented on her face.

Maybe this is why I am ranting in the first place, it’s almost as if everything above is me trying to come up with a

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coherent explanation to my grandma’s mannerisms for John to gain a small bit of empathy but whatever. Confrontation was never my strong suite, maybe I’ll give him this note.

The Boy by Ella Maurice Words for Reference -

Abba: father

-

Eema: mother

-

Ein Karem: a neighborhood in Jerusalem

-

Bubbe: grandma

-

Zaide: grandpa

Tel Aviv, Israel - 2004 “Are you going to watch tonight?” a customer at the Cohen bakery inquires.

“We plan on it.” Aviva Cohen gestures her head over to a sleeping baby boy, “But with the baby you never know.”

“Oh, you have to! You might have been a little young, but this was all over the news in ‘86.”

“Rachel, I was twelve, not two. I remember it well,” Aviva recalls.

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“Well, but do you remember how scared people were?

The boy was crazy, just shot his family out of nowhere.”

Rachel shudders.

“Abba forced Dalia to keep her M-16 in a locked cabinet, to which only he had the key.”

“You think that’s bad,” Rachel points in Aviva’s face, “at least you didn’t have brothers.”

“And the worst part, he only served seven years. The kid got out when he was twenty. Four people and only seven years.” Rachel shakes her head in dismay.

Aviva nods as she begins preparing Rachel’s normal order. A frequent customer and Aviva’s best friend, Rachel’s order is well known. After piling mounds of delectable sweets into a sky blue bakery box, Aviva rings Rachel up and is handed her due.

Rachel begins to leave, but turns around. “Is your husband picking you up?” Aviva nods in affirmation. “Good.

Well, make sure to call me tomorrow so I can present all of my theories. I’ll know his motive within the first twenty minutes.”

“It’s called What He Did and Why He Did It, I don’t think you’ll need to guess,” she counters as she cradles the baby.

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With joking annoyance at her friend, Rachel huffs and waves goodbye as she pushes her way out of the bakery door.

Aviva calls out to someone in the bakery office.

“Anat, Shira! Abba will be here any minute, gather your things.” Anat and Shira toddle out of their mother’s office with toys in hand. The five and four year old girls bounce with excitement at the mention of their father and their curly brown hair bounces with them. Just as Aviva bundles her daughters into puffy winter coats, the bell on top of the door announces that her husband has arrived. A tall man with a dark complexion, Aviva’s husband is a financial executive. He wears a long winter coat over his suit to protect against the light rain outside, but also to set a good example for his children. Aviva receives a kiss on the forehead. The girls suction themselves to his legs and he struggles to walk back over to the front door.

Aviva grabs the baby in his carrier and tosses the keys to her husband, who locks up the bakery for the day. *** Aviva softly closes the nursery door, taking special care not to wake up her son who has been quite the challenge to sleep train. After she hears the soft click of the lock, she runs into the living room and slides onto the couch next to her husband. They snuggle in together and turn on the program she and Rachel were talking about earlier just in time for it to start.

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The first image they see is of an older man, sitting in what looks like a hotel room. They don’t know who he is yet or his connection to the case. Aviva’s husband tenses up as the show starts, but she lays her head on his shoulder. Her husband has never been one for true crime shows.

The man on the show says two words: “Ein Karem.”

Thus the journey begins and for half an hour the couple’s eyes remain transfixed on the television screen. The episode takes viewers through the beginnings of the case, starting with the first call to police, through the discovery of the four bodies, and to the confession of a thirteen and a half year old boy to the murders of his parents and older sisters. As the final image of the boy’s head covered by the jacket of the police officer who accompanied him fades into the credits, Aviva’s eyes practically bug out of her head.

“That’s it?” she exclaims.

Her husband turns to her, “They’re not going to offer you the answer in the first episode.”

“Well, I still expected more than that. Why didn’t his sisters wake up? The older one was a soldier; she could have stopped him.”

He shrugs his shoulders, seemingly as puzzled as Aviva.

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“And did he really think saying they were killed by terrorists would work?”

Another shrug from Aviva’s silent husband.

“What time is it on next week?”

“Same time, Viva. 8 o’clock,” his expression tenses.

“I know stuff like this makes you uncomfortable because of your parents, but I appreciate you watching with me,” Aviva says as she tries to console her husband. He kisses her forehead, which she takes to mean he is okay. *** At six o’clock the next Thursday, right on time, Aviva’s husband arrives at the bakery to take the family home.

He finds them waiting patiently by the door, Anat and Shira are already in their coats and the baby is bundled tightly in a blanket. Aviva taps her thigh with her hand that holds her keys, creating a sort of jiggling nervous sound.

“What’s wrong?” he inquires slightly alarmed and begins checking on the children.

She looks at him as if she has no idea why he is acting this way. “The second episode airs twice tonight, once at 7:30 and once at 8:00. I’ve cleaned up everything. We need to hurry.

I can’t risk Rachel calling me and spoiling everything.”

“Let’s go then!” he says with even more urgency than when he was worried about his children. Aviva, Anat, and

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Shira make their way out to the car with the baby while her husband locks up the shop.

At dinner that night, everyone eats at a normal pace despite the speed with which they rushed home for Aviva to catch the early showing of the documentary’s first episode. The little girls are neat eaters but this is not to say they don’t have fun at dinner time. Anat chatters away about a mean girl in her class while Shira listens halfheartedly. Normally hanging on her older sister’s every word, the only thing that can steal Shira’s attention is her baby brother. Despite being less than a year old, the pair have an especially close bond they formed when Anat began school in the fall. Shira and her father feed the baby while Aviva takes a much deserved break from childcare.

“I was thinking I could create a family photo album for us. Rachel was telling me how she made one for her boys, and I think it sounds kind of nice. Do you have any photos from when you were younger? Or of your family?” Her husband pushes back from the table abruptly and in the process spills some of the baby’s food on the shirt he thankfully changed earlier. He strides over to the sink and aggressives scrubs the stain. The girls grow quiet and the baby grabs for his father.

“Viva, you know--” he tries to respond before she interrupts him.

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“I just thought--” Aviva gets a taste of her own medicine as her husband interrupts her.

“--that my parents and sisters were killed by terrorists while I wasn’t home. I wonder constantly if I could have saved them. I was at a boys’ home after that. I have nothing from them.” His voice breaks and his wife walks over to comfort him. He wraps her desperately into a hug. Tears form in his eyes, but none fall. “It would be nice though, to have a photo album for them,” he offers, trying to encourage Aviva. They look at their children lovingly and she nods.

Aviva is overjoyed when she and her husband catch the 7:30 showing of the second episode, but afterwards she is left with more questions than answers despite the promise of the show to discover the boy’s motive.

She sits with her hands propped on her knees, pondering the episode to the atmosphere. “His father taught his son how to use the M-16 that would kill him, oh my god.” Her husband nods. “But his sister. He shot her in the middle of her asking him if everything was alright. His favorite sister,” Aviva continues to say as she tries to cope with the episode’s revelations. She notices that her husband’s eyes begin to tear up in the way they did when he mentioned his family earlier.

“What is it?”

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“I just can’t help but wonder what it must have been like for my parents and sisters as those men entered our house.

The terror they must have felt knowing what was happening,” he looks as if he will cry, but once again does not.

Aviva tries to change the subject, but does nothing to help her husband’s fear. “I didn’t notice this last time, but the sisters in the show and our girls have the same names. Same number of years apart and everything. Creepy coincidence.” He nods grimly and leaves the living room. Aviva waits a second, thinking about whether or not it would be wise to follow him.

In the end, she goes to her bedroom to comfort her unusually emotional husband. *** Throughout the week that follows until the third episode of the documentary series airs, Aviva spends every spare moment she has (after working at their bakery, taking care of the children, and spending time with her husband) to look for photos of their family. She is secretly on a mission to discover any photos from her husband’s childhood that might be too painful to show her just yet. If she finds any, she wouldn’t put them in the album, but at least she would know they exist.

She comes across long ago printed photos that show the more precious and less perfect moments than the ones they

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display in their home: Aviva’s head lays on her husband’s shoulder after a tiring wedding day, a photo of Aviva shooting the cameraman (her husband) an angry look while she was heavily pregnant with Anat, then Anat with a confused look after meeting baby Shira in the hospital for the first time, and the most recent memory of the whole family cooing over the newborn baby boy. Aviva carefully places these photos and many more in a large envelope where they will be reserved for the album.

On that Thursday night, Aviva and her husband watch the third episode of the documentary, but afterwards their reactions are far different than before. Her husband’s face is as pale as a ghost and he has a bit of a cold sweat beginning to form on his forehead. Aviva looks around confused, but not like she is trying to make sense of what she just saw, but rather like she is trying to connect the dots of a story with more twists and turns than one can count.

For the first time, her husband is affected enough to speak first. “How was he found fit to stand trial? He’s clearly in-insane!”

“But he’s so smart.” Aviva states as if it’s a question.

“And he got nine years in prison, but only served seven,” her husband adds.

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Aviva finally reaches the answer to whatever mystery she has been trying to solve in her head since the show ended.

“You were born in Ein Karem! Did you know him or the family? You would have been his age.”

“My parents died by the time this happened, and I was at the boys’ home at the time.”

“All of these coincidences are unnerving,” Aviva turns to him with concern.

“You’re starting to sound as superstitious as I am. You could probably find connections to any case if you looked hard enough,” he shakes his head, “Don’t worry.” *** A week later, on the Wednesday before the final episode of the show is supposed to air, Aviva and her husband are having dinner with their children when he informs her that he will not be able to drive them to the bakery in the morning or pick them up at night.

“An assistant messed up a filing, so I have to go in early and stay late to correct the mistake so we don’t miss our deadline.” She begins to protest, but he is able to alleviate her grievances. “Don’t worry, I won’t be the only one going in. But this does mean we won’t be able to watch the show at 8:00.

You’ll have to tape it and we can watch it later tomorrow night.”

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“Sounds like a plan,” she responds as she begins cleaning up the table.

Although she misses her husband, his early departure on Thursday morning leaves Aviva extra time to search the house for photos, including his office, which she almost never has the chance to go into. She figures he might have some especially cute photos of the kids or of them that she can copy for the album. However, when she begins snooping around, all of the photos on his desk are ones that she already has. Next up for the search are his desk drawers. After searching through one of the bottom drawers, Aviva tries to close the cabinet but it gets stuck. She pulls out the whole drawer in order to see what was blocking it. An envelope becomes dislodged and Aviva is able to replace the drawer. Quickly thumbing through the envelope, Aviva sees the backs of many photos, an absolute goldmine for the album. She and the children must head to the bakery now, but she takes the envelope to look at later.

Around midday, Anat and Shira nap quietly in their mother’s office. The baby is also sleeping, but he is out with Aviva at the checkout counter. She pulls the envelope of photos out of her purse. The first few are of a young boy on his bar mitzvah. She can see how much fun the boy is having. He and his friends dance around without a care in the world. Are these of her husband? These would have been taken just before his

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parents died, no wonder he did not want to share them with her.

Aviva could see why it would be painful to look back on happy memories that were so soon outshadowed by the bad. The next collection of photos she uncovers are of a younger boy and two older girls, maybe her husband and his sisters when they were kids. They swim in an inflatable pool in their backyard in the blazing summer heat. Every once and a while their mother or father will appear in one of the photos. The family, whoever they are, so clearly love each other so much. It’s the next photo that startles Aviva, though. The boy from the previous photos, who she is now convinced is her husband, poses with the younger of his olders sisters, the one her husband said he was closest to. Only now does she realize she’s seen their faces before. Her heart begins pounding faster, her breath quickens, and her mouth runs dry.

The final group of photos is of the whole family mother, father, two sisters, and her husband. It’s clear that the photos in this envelope were the extras taken along the way in order to get the best shot, the photo one would frame on the wall. The family laughs and plays around with each other, no doubt to the annoyance of the photographer. Aviva’s lip trembles. The perfect photo the photographer must have endeavored to find among these outtakes has become all too familiar to her over the past three weeks. She grabs a few of

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them and turns on the bakery’s television to the channel that airs What He Did and Why He Did It, knowing they are reshowing the previous episodes in anticipation of tonight’s finale. Aviva has such a tight grip on the photos she almost destroys them. As the archival footage flashes and fades across the screen, comes to the conclusion she has been dreading.

Shira, the boy in the documentary’s favorite older sister, is identical to the sister her husband posed with in the photo she found. Finally, Aviva sees the perfect family photo, a product of all of the outtake photos currently in her hands. A gut wrenching cry echoes from Aviva throughout the air in the bakery. Thankfully, no one is there to witness the utter despair of a person who has been betrayed.

Aviva’s wail wakes up all of her children. Her son begins crying and her daughters rush out to her. Anat and Shira, these poor girls and the tragic legacy they unwittingly are forced to carry.

The girls tug at the hem of her skirt. “Eema, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

Aviva is barely able to respond through her sobs, “Put your coats on girls.” She grabs the keys, her son, and pushes her daughters who are still dressing out of the door and into her car. As everyone is safely in the car, a trembling Aviva pulls away onto the street and begins driving with a purpose.

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“Where are we going?” Shira inquires while tucking in her brother’s blanket.

“Bubbe’s and Zaide’s house,” Aviva waits to hear the excited giggles of her daughters.

Anat claps her hands, “Cookies!”

Her mother nods, “Yeah, you’ll get all the cookies and treats you want. Today is a special day. Eema won’t be staying with you though. I have some things to do, but you will have so much fun!” They can’t know the truth, at least not yet. On a day where Aviva’s whole world crumbled into dust, she tries as hard to make it as lovely for her children as possible. *** Aviva couldn’t believe that only a few hours ago she dropped the three most precious people in her life at her parents’ house with no questions asked. Both of her parents, especially her father, tried to figure out what was wrong and she promised to tell them as soon as she could, just not right then. She thinks they both suspected the sudden request had something to do with their son-in-law.

Now Aviva sits silently at her dining room table with a completed family photo album in front of her. No one would be able to tell she spent only a few hours on it. This photo album would certainly do Rachel proud.

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At eight o’clock her husband arrives home. He was right when he said yesterday that they would not be able to watch the show on time. At least he wasn’t lying about that. As soon as her husband steps through the door, he senses something is not right. Their house is not filled with its characteristic laughter of young girls. His daughters don’t rush up and hug his legs and his wife doesn’t greet him. Instead, he finds her sitting silently at their dining room table with some book in front of her.

“Where are the kids?” also recognizing Aviva is not with the baby, who she rarely parts with.

“With my parents,” she counters coldly.

“What? Why?” Aviva softens her tone, “Relax, they just wanted to spend some time with them. I’m going to pick them up in an hour.”

Skeptical, her husband walks into the kitchen to get a cup of water. Aviva strategically remembers the project she completed during the day, “Oh, I forgot! I finished the photo album today.” He takes a seat next to his wife after coming back from the kitchen and begins thumbing through the album.

The first few photos are the funny ones Aviva found of their marriage and children, but after a few pages of the present, Aviva jumps into the past. The bar mitzvah boy, the young

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siblings swimming together, her young bespectacled husband and his sister Shira, and finally all of the extra photos taken of the whole family while trying to take the perfect picture.

Aviva inquires sweetly, “Do you like it?” He turns toward his wife with horror but her sweet tone of voice is countered by a look more disdainful than she knew she could give.

Nothing can stop her now. Never has Aviva been more determined in her life to have an answer to a question. “She asked you if you were okay! She didn’t even finish her sentence before you killed her! You named our daughters after them! They are living reminders of what you did.”

She pauses, not to think of what she wants to say, but how she can possibly convey the disgust she feels for the man standing in front of her. He tries to speak, but she holds up her finger, scowls, and shakes her head.

“You killed your father with a gun he taught you how to use!” She says to her husband even though he already knows this. Aviva says this almost trying to reconcile her loving husband with a child that murdered his whole family.

“And only seven years for four people.”

She remains quiet for a longer period of time, Aviva can only think of one more piece of information she wants to know. Some details will probably be too much for her.

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“Why? Why did you do it?”

It’s Only Been An Hour by Ella Maurice The office of two of Senator Patrick Holden of Tennessee’s political advisors in the Russell Senate Office Building is almost like a coat closet. The room is not small but all of the papers, computer screens, and desk sets make it feel as though it is. There are a total of four chairs, two of which are unoccupied. Although this room is only occupied by two political advisors to the Senator, it is clear that this room is where the real work gets done.

The two desk sets are positioned opposite each other, one up against the left wall and the other up against the right. Each desk has an office phone. At the left desk sits KENNEDY JACKSON, a woman in her mid twenties, who is eating a turkey sandwich and bag of apple slices. Sitting at the other desk is a man about the same age as Kennedy, JAMES BARTON, who is eating a kale salad. Kennedy wears a bright red blouse with sleek white pants and James wears a suit with a red patterned tie. They have name tags with their credentials and identification. When they speak, the pair sounds tired and the bags under their eyes are hard to ignore.

Three television screens positioned on different walls in the room play different news stations at a low constant drone,

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providing constant noise. One plays Fox News, another CNN, and the last C-SPAN. Kennedy: I’m starting to hate these turkey sandwiches.

James: Really?

Kennedy: I think I’ll bring a grilled cheese tomorrow. Oh, but it will be cold by lunchtime.

James: I can bring you a salad.

Kennedy: Really? [James nods.] Thanks.

James checks the large wall calendar plastered on the wall. It’s covered in sticky-notes of all colors and details of all of the upcoming events and appointments.

James: Hey, we can leave early today. [Kennedy turns to him.]

It’s Holden’s anniversary.

Kennedy: I hope he and Rosalind are doing something nice.

Washington has been tough on her. She thinks they don’t spend enough time together.

James: He had me book a bed and breakfast about a month and a half ago. The Ram and Steer, I think it was. And they do seem to be spending more time together, but what did she expect? She married a Senator twenty-five years older than her.

Kennedy laughs quietly, almost as if she is worried someone other than James will hear her.

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Kennedy: Wait, didn’t they get married in November? They still have a couple months to go.

James: It’s probably when they started dating or something.

When they first met?

Kennedy shrugs her shoulders, dismissing the conversation.

James: Now that we have the night off do you want to get dinner? We can go to that– James is interrupted by the door at the back of the room slamming open. In the doorway are two political advisors to Senator Mark Dandridge of New York. MONICA STANFORD and CLINTON HART are both the same age as Kennedy and James. They burst into the room and are a little out of breath.

Monica wears a professional deep blue dress and Clinton wears a suit and blue patterned tie. Both have similar identification tags.

James: Care to knock? Think of all the things we could have been doing in here, really let your mind wander. Would you have wanted to see some of that?

Clinton shakes his head vehemently, trying to dismiss James’s sarcasm.

Monica: This is not the time.

Clinton: We need to show you guys something.

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Monica and Clinton pull out their cell phones and each hand one to Kennedy and James.

Monica: We rushed over here as soon as we saw this. [As Kennedy and James read whatever is on the phones their eyes bug out and jaws drop.] It doesn’t seem to have gotten on any major networks, but we thought you should see it.

Clinton: Apparently, Senator Holden was involved in some less than secure financial investments.

James: “Less than secure financial investments!” This is insider trading!

Monica: Is there any way this isn’t true?

Kennedy: I hope so.

James: Call Sally, ask her to check Senator Holden’s December and January calendars. That’s right around when the Hoffmann Holdings stock dropped. She needs to look for the name Paul Madau. He’s a financial advisor.

Kennedy looks away from the group and her face contorts as she tries to figure out how she knows the name Paul Madau.

Clinton: Who’s Sally?

James: Holden’s secretary. I’ve never met a person who keeps a calendar like her.

Kennedy: Didn’t Senator Holden introduce Paul Madau to us as his best friend at the Christmas party?

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James: If Mr. Madau saved me $150,000, he'd be my best friend too.

Monica and Clinton who had been standing quite still as they observed their friends face a crisis finally step into action.

Monica: Senator Dandridge left early today. What can we do?

Kennedy: Mon, we couldn’t ask you guys to get mixed up in this. You have your own careers, and Dandridge’s reputation, to protect.

Monica: I lived with you for four years at Georgetown. You couldn’t shake me if you tried.

Clinton: Same for me James. Four years as a bulldog wouldn’t have been the same without you.

James: While Kennedy calls Sally you two need to get your computers. I’ll try to get Paul on the phone.

James begins searching on his computer for Madau’s phone number.

Kennedy: Wait, why did Senator Dandridge leave early? He’s known for keeping you there pretty late.

Clinton: Spending time with his kids. He feels guilty about missing some play they were in a couple months ago. I feel bad for the girls, but all his making up for lost time has been giving us more time off.

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Monica: We were planning on going to that new Greek place tonight. You want to come? If you don’t tell Holden about any of this, he might let you off early.

Ever the young politicians, everyone in the group except Kennedy has seemingly forgotten about the crisis they are facing and are now focusing on themselves. Kennedy is still thinking through everything the group has spoken about, but not out of misunderstanding.

Kennedy: We won’t have to tell him anything. He’s at a bed and breakfast with Rosalind.

Monica: Oh, The Ram and Steer? [Kennedy nods.] I recommended it to James a while back, Senator Dandridge told me about it.

Clinton clears his throat.

Clinton: Well, the sooner we get this sorted, the better. [To Monica] Let’s get our computers.

Monica and Clinton grab their phones and leave the room. As they walk out, Clinton puts his hand on Monica’s waist ever so slightly so that neither of their friends notice. Just as they leave Kennedy rushes to the door and locks it. She returns to her desk and dials a phone number at the same time James gets off his computer to dial a number on his phone

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Kennedy is one the phone with Sally and James is on the phone with Paul, but only their voices can be heard.

Kennedy: Hi, Sally.

James: Hello, is this Paul Madau?

Kennedy: I’m so glad I could reach you. I know how busy you’ve been.

James: My name is James Barton. I work for Senator Patrick Holden of Tennessee.

Kennedy: How are you doing today?

James: Oh, not bad myself.

Kennedy: Just a bit tired.

James: How’s your husband? The kids?

Kennedy: Does Judith like that book I told her about?

James: Anyways…

Kennedy: There is something I need to ask you.

James: It’s about Senator Holden.

Kennedy: Can you check the Senator’s December and January calendars for me?

James: I just need to know if you’ve met with him.

James and Kennedy listen to their phones for a brief moment before they both start shaking their heads.

Kennedy: I’m not buying that.

James: Don’t lie to me.

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Kennedy: I just need the truth.

James: There was a meeting?

Kennedy: With who?

James: Someone from Hoffmann Holdings?

Kennedy: It was with Paul Madau, wasn’t it?

James: Shit.

Kennedy: Goodness.

Kennedy and James look at each other, horrified. They barely manage to croak out their last words to Sally and Paul.

Kennedy: It’s not ideal, but thanks for your help.

James: This is a nightmare.

They hang up their phones and just as the receivers slam down on their bases, someone tries to turn the knob on the door.

Whoever it is begins to knock once they cannot get into the office.

Clinton: It’s us.

James, in a daze, gets up and unlocks the door, letting Monica and Clinton in. The pair immediately notices the tension in the room.

Monica: How bad is it?

James: A shitshow.

Kennedy: Senator Holden didn’t even try to cover it up.

Clinton: What can we do?

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Kennedy: Pull up Google, both of you. We are going to log into Senator Holden’s email accounts.

Monica looks immediately dismayed, but Clinton pulls out an extra chair and sits down. However, before he has the opportunity to type anything on his computer Monica pulls on his arm.

Monica: Clinton Hart, o way in hell are we doing that. It’s a violation of his privacy.

Kennedy: He gave me his passwords in case of emergency.

James: That’s stupid.

Kennedy: Come on.

James: What? It is! What kind of dumbass gives someone all of their email passwords?

Kennedy: I’m not saying I disagree. But [She pauses and gestures her hand towards James in a stopping motion.] let’s refrain.

Monica: What emergency would require you to log into his email?

Kennedy: Divorce? I don’t know. Anyways, we’re just going to look through them to see if we find anything.

Monica: [To herself] Divorce hardly seems like an emergency.

Clinton turns to Monica and places his hand on her arm.

Clinton: They need our help. All we’re going to do is look.

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Monica sits down at the fourth chair in the room and begins looking at her computer, as does Clinton.

Kennedy: Okay, James your email is patrick.r.holden@gmail.com and your password is capital R lowercase o-s-e little “and” symbol capital P “at” sign lowercase t.

James: There isn’t going to be shit on this one.

Clinton: Why? James: No one would hide anything on an email with that password.

Kennedy: Clinton, your email is pholdennashtn.70@gmail.com, password 10-1-9-2-8-3-7-4-6-5.

James: That password’s stupid.

Clinton: There might be something there.

Kennedy: And Mon, your email is patrick.ramsay1118@gmail.com, password capital D 0 lowercase g-s 4 capital L lowercase i-f-e two exclamation marks.

James: Jesus Christ. Dogs for life!

Clinton: Looks like you’re in for a treat, Mon. Monica is not as excited about the prospect of information being found as her friends are.

Monica: [To Kennedy] What are you going to be doing?

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Kennedy: Checking a list of all the calls the Senator’s made recently.

Monica: You guys keep track of that?

Kennedy: You don’t?

Monica: It just doesn’t seem like something a senator would want to keep track of.

Kennedy shrugs off Monica’s reply and everyone gets to their tasks. After a while James begins to roll his eyes and yawn.

James: I might as well stop now. It’s just emails to his wife and friends.

Kennedy: Fine then, help Clinton.

James rolls his chair over to Clinton and examines Clinton’s computer as well.

Kennedy: [Throws her arms up in defeat] I’m coming up with nothing.

Clinton: Well, you might or might not want to see this.

James and Clinton roll their chairs over to Kennedy’s desk. She moves her computer out of the way as they set Clinton’s down.

Monica does not move and keeps looking at her computer. The group pays her no mind, but if they did, they would see that she is not looking at normal emails.

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James: [After Kennedy has looked over the emails] What should we do?

Kennedy: [She thinks for a bit.] Nothing.

Clinton: Nothing?

James: He committed a serious crime.

Kennedy: You read that article. It was from some D-tier online magazine. If we don’t say anything it might die out.

Clinton: If we don’t say anything, we helped him cover it up.

Nevermind wherever they got the information from. If we don’t say anything and this gets out, our careers are over. [Clinton looks directly at Kennedy.] You think they’ll let you become governor of Tennessee after covering up a federal crime?

[Kennedy is silent but meets Clinton’s intense gaze. Clinton points a finger at James but keeps his eyes on Kennedy.] James won’t be president. He won’t even be able to run. [Clinton jerks his arm back to Monica who has looked up from her computer to the group.] No president in their right mind would choose someone involved in a coverup to lead the Department of Justice. I won’t ever earn my place in these halls in my own right. [Clinton’s tone becomes grave as he focuses back on Kennedy.] If you do this, we will be no part of it. No one will ever associate the name Kennedy Jackson with anything other than her prison sentence. The girl I grew up with would never do this. This isn’t you.

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Kennedy looks ashamedly away.

Kennedy: Senator Holden is the minority leader. Any person in Republican politics would be lucky, kiss the ground and thank God lucky, to work with him. What will happen to James and I if we report him?

Clinton: You graduated from Georgetown and Vanderbilt.

James from Yale and Harvard. There will be no shortage of people who want you to work for them. But you have no future if you help Holden get away with this.

Kennedy nods, conceding that Clinton is right. James recognizes that Monica has been unusually quiet.

James: Found anything, Mon? Monica: [Weakly, almost shocked] Yeah.

James: What is it?

Monica: Um…Senator Holden is having an affair.

Clinton: With who?

Just as James says…

James: What’s her name?

Monica: His name.

James: [Swallows heavily] His name?

Clinton: And he opposes gay marriage?

Monica: That’s not all.

Kennedy: What else could there possibly be?

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Monica: The “he” Holden is having an affair with is Senator Dandridge.

Kennedy rushes over to Monica and snatches the computer out of her hands. Her eyes scan the words on the screen. After a while, she hands the device back to Monica. Silence falls over the group, knowing they have been the first to uncover a monumental scandal.

Kennedy: I didn’t think this day could get any worse.

James: Insider trading and a gay affair.

Clinton: That’s about as D.C. as it gets.

Monica: He isn’t the first and he won’t be the last.

Kennedy: They’re celebrating their fifth anniversary this weekend. Senator Holden isn’t with Rosalind. Dandridge isn’t with his kids.

James: That was the anniversary on the board.

Clinton: We could call them.

Monica: On their anniversary?

James: The affair is sure to be the next domino to fall.

Clinton: It’s not an affair anymore. It’s a relationship.

Kennedy: They need to be prepared.

Monica: I’ll call Senator Dandridge. James, you call Holden.

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James moves to begin dialing the Senator on his office phone and Monica pulls out her cell phone.

James: You know, it’s impressive they managed to keep this hidden for so long. Makes you wonder what else is going on.

Kennedy: If there is, I don’t want to know about it.

Monica and James get on the phone with their respective senators. Kennedy sits next to James, and Clinton next to Monica. Only their words can be heard.

Monica: Hi, Senator Dandridge.

James: Senator Holden.

Monica: Who is it? Monica Stanford. Don’t you have my number? Uh… James: How’s The Ram and Steer?

Monica: Well, I’m glad you’re having a nice time.

James: Why did I call? Uh… Monica: Uh…To check in.

James: Uneventful, really?

Monica: [Snorts] I wonder how your kids would feel about that.

James: Who’s that? I hear some in the background.

Monica: Oh, that? It’s just [Looks to James] CNN. James: You think you hear a woman’s voice? [Looks to Monica] Laura Ingraham’s on Fox. Monica: There is something I needed to talk to you about.

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James: It is serious.

Monica: I’ve heard a rumor.

James: Well, it’s a bit more than a rumor.

Deciding it’s no longer time to beat around the bush, Monica jumps all in.

Monica: I know you’re not with your kids.

James: This is going to be tough to ask.

Monica: [Pause] Are you in a relationship with Senator Holden?

Silence fills the room. Every once and a while James and Monica nod. At one point Monica wipes her eyes and Clinton puts his arm around her. James looks exasperated and it seems to be affecting Kennedy as well.

James: No, there’s nothing else.

Monica: Don’t worry about that. Stay.

James: [Deflated] See you Monday.

Monica: [Resigned] Goodbye.

They both get off the phone.

Clinton: [To James] Why didn’t you ask him about Madau?

James: That’s not an over-the-phone conversation.

Clinton: And an affair with a colleague is?

The other three’s silence signals their agreement.

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Kennedy: What do we do?

Clinton: Nothing, at least for a couple of days.

James: [To Kennedy] On Monday we’ll tell him we know about the Hoffmann Holdings business. Holden will resign, thereby turning himself in. [To Monica and Clinton] During the investigation, there will be subpoenas on his email accounts and everyone will know about his relationship with Senator Dandridge.

Monica: Alternatively, they could come clean about the relationship themselves. But that would subject Senator Dandridge to rumors about his possible involvement with Hoffmann Holdings. He would be investigated and Holden would have to clear Dandridge of any involvement. Lingering rumors would ruin him, though.

Clinton: I would advise him on the first option.

Kennedy: We’ll try. But there is no way that they can keep their relationship a secret.

Monica: I know I should be focusing on the fact that Senator Holden cheated on his wife, but I cannot help but feel bad that his choice of partner will garner him the most criticism.

Clinton: No one’s character should be judged on something such as that.

For what seems like the tenth time that day, silence overtakes the group. Kennedy looks at all of them.

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Kennedy: Why do you think he did it?

Clinton: The affair?

Kennedy: The insider trading. But I suppose the affair too.

James: I don’t think there is an explanation for it. It’s a crime, and Holden still did it even though he knew it was wrong. I suppose like everyone else, he thought he’d be the one smart enough to pull it off.

Monica: There is no defense for cheating on a partner, but he and Dandridge clearly care about each other. It’s over, though.

They can’t ever be together in public.

When Kennedy and James aren’t looking, Monica places her hand on James’ leg, then quickly removes it when the other two turn back around.

Kennedy: Do you think we’ll be like them one day?

James: [Pause] I’d hope not, but I don’t think Holden or Dandridge imagined they’d be in this situation when they got into politics.

Clinton: Do you think we’re strong enough to not fall into these traps?

Monica: I don’t think anyone is. Power is like sugar, once you’ve had it, you don’t want to be in a world where you don’t.

James: [Resigned] Well, we could spend our whole night pondering the rest of our lives and the crimes we may or may not commit, or we could get dinner.

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Clinton: Where?

Monica: Somewhere far away.

BLACKOUT It’s Raining Cats and Dogs! by Mathew Stephen “Mom, can I get a pet?”

“No Carl. Sorry”.

“But mom… I’m a big boy now!”

“Not until you’re 10 years old.”

Carl screamed and ran to the other side of the park and away from the playground. As he was running like Usain Bolt, his foot caught up on what felt like a log and he suddenly performed a front-flip like an Olympic diver onto his back. He turned around and saw that it was a flower vase, not a log.

Angry from falling, the boy picked up the vase, holding the object in the air, ready to slam it on the ground. However, as the vase was in the air, a voice yelled: “Wait!”

Confused, Carl looked in every direction. Seeing that no one was around, he raised the vase once again for a second trial.

“Rub the vase!”

Still not knowing who was calling him, the boy decided to follow the voice. He rubbed the vase, which then

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spat green powder. Suddenly, a light beamed in the middle of the green field, creating the form of a large human being who had a tail and no legs. He had a gray beard and had as many wrinkles as a suit that should be ironed.

Little Carl laughed, stating “I can tell you skipped leg day!”

“Shut up, little boy. You nearly destroyed my home. I can grant you a wish. So hurry up and ask for your wish so I can sleep!”

“Ok old guy. Chill out! You said I can wish for anything?”

“Yes child, do you need me to spell it out for you!”

“Sweet! I want a pet. My mom won’t let me have one.

I can’t decide between a dog or a cat…”

“Okay, okay. I’ll get you every dog and cat in the world”.

“Wait no I just -”.

The genie snapped his fingers. Soon the clear sky became dark and cloudy. Carl and the genie went to a shed, thinking that it would rain. However, instead of booming thunder, a series of “barks!” and “meows!” nearly broke his eardrums. Carl went outside to see the source of the sound. He saw thousands of dogs and cats, heard cacophonous animal sounds, and felt a “thud!” on his head as a German shepherd

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body-slammed him from above. However, these animals seemed immortal, as they weren’t injured in their falls even though they were hitting the ground harder than hail.

The boy got up, yelling “It’s raining cats and dogs!” He turned to the genie. “I didn’t need this many pets, but I got a lot to choose from.” Thanks so much, genie!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, just rub the vase again so I have a place to sleep. If I hear one more animal sound I’ll go crazy!”.

Carl rubbed the vase and with some rope from the shed, made some leashes to bring a Golden Retriever and a Siamese Cat home. The boy walked back towards the park entrance to look for his mother. As he approached the merry-go-round, his mother, holding a broken umbrella, caught up with him and gave him a bear hug.

“Where were you Carl?! You made me so worried!

Why are you bringing those pets? Let’s go get some shelter now” The mother and child ran to the car, and drove off as fast and as safely as they could towards their home. But the rain of cats and dogs continued, breaking all of the car’s windows and blocking the noise of nearby vehicles. As they got home, they ran inside to the house, with broken glass flooding the floor.

“Keep your shoes on Carl!”

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The mother locked the doors and tried to use duct tape to repair some of the damages. Carl, who brought his two new pets with him, then informed his mother: “I have two pets now! This one’s Doge, and this one’s Kit-Kat “Carl, did you have anything to do with this storm?”

“No, Mom, I didn’t.”

“Tell me the truth, otherwise you can’t have these pets.”

“So I can have these pets if I tell you the truth?” the boy snarked.

“That’s not the point! Tell the truth son.”

“Okay. I found a vase on the floor, and a genie popped out. I just wanted one cat or dog, but when I was taking a moment to decide which one I wanted, the genie just granted that I get every single cat or dog. I am so sorry mom. It won’t happen again”.

His mother thought “Obviously it won’t happen again”, but thought that her young son was giving a genuine apology, saying “It’s okay, son. Now, can you tell me where the genie is so I can stop the rain?”

“Sure mom! He’s in this vase right here!” pulling out the ancient vase from his pocket. “Rub the vase to get the genie out.”

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The mother rubbed the vase, with a green light suddenly beaming in the room, and the genie angrily popped out, yelling “What now boy!”

“Hey, Mr. Genie! I’m Carl’s mother. He told me that you caused all of this rain. Can you please make it stop?”

“No, woman. No refunds.”

“Okay, fine”, raising the vase in the air. “If you don’t do as I say, I will destroy this vase right now and you will not have a place to sleep.”

“Okay, I will refund the wish.” The genie then snapped. The clouds parted in the sky and the sky emitted a bright yellow light towards the house. It stopped raining cats and dogs! But there was still a problem.

“Thank you, Mr. Genie, but there are still cats and dogs outside flooding the streets! Can you fix that?”

“No can do ma’am. I reversed the wish to rain cats and dogs, and that was the deal. Please rub the vase so I can go back” “Fine! You can return to the vase”. The mother then rubbed the vase to let the genie go back home. She then looked down at her son. “Carl, you can have your pets. But only the one dog and the one cat you have now. Nothing else. Got it?”

“Got it, Mom. Thank you!”

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As they looked outside, however, so much shattered glass from house windows and the family car covered the ground like snow. “I hope State Farm covers all of this''.

These weren’t the only damages to Carl’s family. As the years went on to the present day, a 15-year old Carl, secluded in his house, watched college basketball, interrupted by “Flash flood warnings” of canines and felines.

Since the dogs and cats from the storm remained on the streets that crazy day, overpopulation became a huge issue in his town and the world. To make matters worse, each of these cats and dogs had families and reproduced 2-3 new generations of cats and dogs, so much so that humans can’t even leave their homes!

Carl has gone crazy. He has not been able to get any sleep due to the constant cacophonous clamor of animal sounds. Even during the day, he has had trouble. His school switched to remote learning via Zoom, but the cats are clawing power lines and it’s impossible to cancel out the animal sounds throughout the day. He has been meeting with his psychologist to deal with the mental trauma he has faced with these animals.

But these aren’t even close to the greatest impact this pet pandemic has had on the teenager.

With 5 seconds left in the basketball game on TV, Carl’s Kentucky Wildcats have the ball, down by 1 point to the

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Gonzaga Bulldogs. Number 12 on Kentucky goes up for a deep three-pointer that swishes right at the buzzer. An excited Carl lets out a barbaric yawp in his living room, which then develops into a “Woof! Woof! Woof!”.

Confused, the boy thinks, “I must have a cold. I should get some rest.”

As he walks to his room, he walks past a mirror, which he glances at with a side-eye. But he then returns to look in the mirror, as if he was looking at a new person.

“Woah, I have a mustache now! I’m finally hitting puberty!”

He goes to touch his facial hair, but it falls to the floor.

He looks down and sees that he has very sharp claws for his fingers.

“This is weird. I’m gonna go cut my nails”.

Suddenly, Carl’s tongue involuntarily escapes his mouth. He begins to salivate and breathe heavily. He senses an aroma that seems too hard to resist. He crawls to the kitchen but sees no one there. However, he feels as if he’s closer to the source. He tries to exit his house through the dog slot in his door but ends up only making it halfway through to the point where he’s stuck. He then tries to budge, but then he decides to use his super sharp claws to open the slot and allow him to pass through. He then traverses 3 miles to a neighbor’s house,

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leaving a stream of saliva to mark his trail. He enters the neighbor’s dog slot, seeing that Mrs. Waters is making cookies.

As Mrs. Waters turns around, she screams as if a man with a mask and chainsaw was in front of her. A door suddenly opens and a man holds a weapon that he directs at Carl, and: BOOM! Three hours later, Carl struggles to open his eyes.

“Mom, it’s Saturday! I don’t have school. Why are you waking me up so early?”.

He lets out a weak bark, with his eyes half-open. He is surrounded by many computer screens and humans. He suddenly sees his mother, getting up all of a sudden.

“Mom, why am I in the hospital!”

“Carl! You’re awake! You were acting like an animal last night, so Mr. Waters tranquilized you. We think you might have rabies, so the doctors gave you stomach shots.”

“So that’s why my stomach’s red. Can I come back home and rest?”

“I’ll talk to the doctor, but you should be able to come back”.

His mother then wheeled Carl out of the hospital so that he could rest for a week.

However, after a week, Carl was not losing any of his animal features. On the contrary, he was growing so much hair

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all around his body and had been developing a structure from his back that he moved back and forth every time he was hungry. He would eat raw steaks from his fridge, scratch his back for hours, rip up his couch, and interact with the cats and dogs on the streets.

He then felt his phone buzzing in his bundle of fur next to his waist. The phone read “No Caller ID”.

“Ugh! Not another one of these ‘Your car has extended warranty callers.”

He picked up the phone, which sounded, “This is Nick.

Meet me in the shed at the park”. The phone then hung up.

Carl did not know anyone named Nick, but decided to follow the directions and traversed through a sea of animals to the park. As he crawled to the shed, he saw a tall and built figure, a man with an eye-patch, who greeted him: “Carl! I’m Nick Fury.” The man pulled out an elastic suit, like those you would find at Party City. “Son, I have observed your abilities from a distance. I have seen the news reports of a man-beast that’s stronger, more susceptible to smells, and faster than most humans. Welcome to the Avenger!

So, Carl joined the Avengers. But he wanted to figure out what to do with all these cats and dogs, which didn’t have a home. All of the animal shelters were full and even had waiting

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lists! He needed some extra assistance. He pressed the emblem on his suit to activate JARVIS. “Good morning, Mr. Carl. How may I help you today?”

“Call the Avengers to come here. We need to build some shelters.”

“Steve Roger that.” Some neon-blue portals suddenly surrounded Carl. One by one, the Avengers appeared. First, it was Iron Man, then it was Captain America. Then Thor, and then the largest portal bore Hulk.

“Who is this kid?” Iron Man asked the other Avengers.

Carl wanted to answer the question, but felt flabbergasted and sat in awe.

“Are you okay kid?” said Captain America.

Carl finally mustered up the courage to respond. “Why yes, I’m okay. My name is Carl by the way. I thought you guys were just comic book characters. I didn’t know you all existed.”

“Yeah, we do, son. Believe everything you see on TV,” responded Thor. “So, who are we fighting today?”

“We’re not fighting. We’ll build some animal shelters for these cats and dogs out here.”

“That’s it?”

“Yep”

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“Nice!” responded Hulk.

So, the five of them walked to the nearest Home Depot, bought all kinds of wood and metals, and began to build straight away. Thor’s hammer would speed up the process, but then every time a shelter seemed to be done, Hulk would smash the building. “Hulk smash!”

However, they were able to finish up 50 shelters in a mere 10 days. Every cat and dog had a home and this opened up more jobs for the unemployed.

“Great work team,” said Captain America, “but we need to find a good time for Carl. No one’s going to take a superhero named Carl seriously”.

Carl responded “Good point. What about DogCat?” “That’s way too basic. I honestly would prefer Carl to that.”

Ironman had an idea, “What about the Protector?”

Everyone nodded in agreement. This was the perfect name.

So, the Protector went around his town, finding stray pets and placing them in shelters. Pretty soon as each pet was finding a home, the pet pandemic was waning. There were fewer flash-flood warnings. Roads were opening up. There was less vandalism so much to the point that StateFarm was losing business. People could see the sunshine, and listen to the

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environment as opposed to listening to animal noises in the darkness. Life was becoming better!

The Avengers returned home, happy that they could help society in a way that didn’t involve fighting villains. Carl could finally chill and live a normal life, though he needs to shave more frequently now.

But to prevent others from having this same type of damage, Carl went back home, checked his attic after going through plenty of cobwebs. He went through his old Fast Wheels car collection, the boxes of clothes he outgrew, and some broken old furniture. He finally reached the end of the cramped attic, where a single wooden platform stood. On the wood was the figure of the flower vase, all by itself.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen this/” Carl grabbed the dirty vase of the shelf and started shaking it back-and-forth. He then began to flip it around. He then shook it again, this time side-by-side.

“Why isn’t the genie coming out?” Carl thought in frustration. “I can’t remember how we got him out?”

“Rub the vase!” came from a voice that sounded like an echo out of nowhere.

“Oh right.” Carl then rubbed the vase, with green powder exploding right in front of him like fireworks. Out then

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appeared the Genie, who looked frailer than he did in the last encounter.

Carl initiated the conversation, “Sup old man!

Remember me?”

“Long time no see little man. Looks like you grew up.”

“And it looks like you grew down!”

“Boy I can turn you into a -- oh wait. You’re already an animal.”

“Touche Genie. Now, I need to figure out how you were able to cause the world to rain cats and dogs.”

“Man-child, I’m afraid that’s a secret. I can’t tell you.”

“Tell me or else!”

“Or else what?”

“I’ll break the vase!”

“Okay. A long time ago, there were no such things as human beings. It was just genies and dinosaurs. Then, once the meteors hit planet earth, all dinosaurs and most genies were killed. I ended up being safe because right before the meteor strike, I was magically vanished into this vase by the genie police for sending a sonic boom into space.”

“Why’d you send a sonic boom into space?”

“I was a teenager at the time who had no guidance in life. I liked to do things to impress my friends who didn’t have my abilities, and so I just randomly did it. The issue was that

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the boom caused the Earth to rain for the first time from a leak of melted space ice. So because of that, I discovered rain.”

“Oh, okay Genie. Did it ever occur to you that your sonic boom might have also caused the meteor to hit Earth?”

“That’s a really good question. It’s possible that the boom broke a planet and caused a large chunk of it to hit Earth.

Hmm… I doubt it. “ “So, how did you live this long in the vase? Like how’d you eat and drink?”

“Well, I didn’t need to. I’ve been in a long coma for over 67 million years. That is until you and your mother woke me up after. ” “Sorry to interrupt my guy. So what kind of powers do you have?”

“I can just make anything happen. Though, now that is when I want a wish to happen. It always has something to do with rain. So when you asked for a pet, I accidentally made it rain cats and dogs. Does that make sense boy?”

“Yeah, it makes sense.” However, Carl knew that this story was fishy. There was something off about this whole “curse” and only being able to make things rain. He remembered that back then that the Genie reversed the wish to rain cats and dogs. How was that possible? “That’s impossible Genie. How did you reverse the raining wish then?”

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“Well, I’m only able to turn on the rain or turn off the rain. I literally cannot do anything else. That’s why I wasn’t able to grant your mother’s wish to reverse all parts of your mom’s wish to return to normal.”

“So what’s limiting your wishes to rain?”

“It was part of the punishment I believe. I’m not exactly sure though because they put me in the vase before the formal conviction back then. The criminal justice system back then was very flawed.”

“We live in a new society though. Why is this magic still holding you back?”

“Because no one else has the power to reverse it.”

“Can someone gain power? Like from a spell or anything?”

“Yeah. You will need to find a stone in South Sudan.”

At that moment, Carl’s geography knowledge was kicking in. He remembered from his 8th-grade geography class how there was a supercontinent called Pangea and that all the current continents fit into one big mass of land. The dinosaurs lived on this continent. So, if genies lived with dinosaurs, then that means that there weren't 7 continents, so there wasn’t Africa, and thus there wasn't South Sudan back then. Also, isn’t South Sudan a really young country? There’s no way that the genie would know this if he was in the vase the whole time.

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“Genie, I’ve caught you in 4k!”

“Huh?” All of a sudden, a huge boulder burst through the roof of Carl’s house. The boulder was in the shape of Thor. Then, Iron Man flew through the window into Carl’s room. Captain America and Hulk simply just knocked on the door and walked up the stairs and up the ladder into the attic.

“You’re busted Genie!” yelled Carl.

“Not so fast.” The genie then prayed.

All of a sudden, a protective bubble formed around the genie. Then, it was raining razor blades. As time went on, they were cutting up the roof until it was nonexistent. The blades were shaving Carl and now he had bald spots all over his back.

Then the heroes had to all fit under Captain America’s shield to be protected.

Thor, then, out of nowhere prayed, and soon, a large thunderbolt hit the genie’s bubble, which broke from the strength of the lightning. Then, Ironman activated the JARVIS program and launched a tranquilizer arrow at the genie, making the genie fall asleep. Then, Carl, grabbing the vase, rubbed it so that the genie could be sent back into it. Then, the Hulk had the finishing touches, smashing the vase while screaming, “HULK SMASH!”

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But right before the Hulk could do anything, Carl snatched the vase with canine sheer speed. “He might escape if we break it. Do you all have a protective safe at the headquarters?”

“Yeah, we have a safe. But people have broken into it before,” said Iron Man. Thor replied, “I can keep it with me in Asgard.

Literally, no one lives there anymore.”

So, Thor then flew off into the sky in a split second.

The other Avengers left as well via Uber.

Carl was happy that he could be an Avenger. However, he felt like he was missing something, and picked up his phone to make a call.

“Hi, Nick!”

“What’s up Carl!” “ I think I’m gonna postpone my commitment to the Avengers.”

“Why Carl?”

“For starters, I need some time to think of a good hero name. Right now, my name is the Protector, but I feel as if I can do better. Second of all, I want to grow up a little bit before I take on this responsibility of saving the world. I haven’t even started high school yet and I hope to live a normal life after so many years of dealing with these dogs and cats. “

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“Understood Carl. You still have my number, so call me back when you feel that you’re ready to take on the really tough villains and get a real superhero suit. Thank you for catching the genie. Your instincts were great and we know that you have the potential to be such a special hero.”

Carl hung up and went down from the attic to his room. All he wanted to do now was sleep, so he jumped right into his bed and passed out. His mother came into his room and tucked him into bed.

“Carl, I’m very proud of you son.”

That was all the boy needed to hear to end off such a great and eventful day. Many people say to be careful about what one wishes for, but Carl gained so much from his wish for a pet. He ended up getting some pets, some superpowers, and a spot on the Avengers.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! Carl woke up from his nap, with an open Avengers comic on his stomach. His mother walked in. Peter Parker had just been bitten by a spider and he had earned powers. His mother walked in. “Honey, you’ll be late for an online school.

Hurry up!”

“Online school?” he thought. He got up, brushed his teeth, showered, and got out for school. But he felt

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weaker. He didn’t have any shaving blades in his bathroom.

And he could see his skin without any hair!

He thought to himself: “This must’ve been just a dream.” To confirm this, he opened his window and saw the downpour of dogs and cats and heard constant animal noises. He still had remote school, as evidenced by his most recent computer tab being Google Classroom. “Oh no! I’m still doing online school!?! No!!!!!!! My dreams were much better.” He then went back to sleep. He ended up missing all of his classes and received 3 detentions as a result of his actions, which lead to a suspension from school. He then laid down on his bed and went back to sleep.

“At least I have an imagination.” All of a sudden, his mood felt much better and he had a smirk on his face. He went back to fighting crime and saving stray animals.

POTUS (Puppets of the United States) by Mathew Stephen Live at the XYZ studio, we have a desk and two podiums surrounded by a million cameras. Behind the cameras were wide screens with more words than the Dictionary. The room was feeling warmer and warmer as it approached 6 pm Pacific. This was an event that no one should miss, live in front of billions of people, robots, and animals alike. The last President of the US, Independent Kanye East was in the crowd,

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but he’s not the center of attention today. This event could shape the USA for the next 4-8 years, as two individuals, with the most notable height difference since Douglass v. Lincoln, walked onto the stage. They met in the middle, shook hands with fake smiles, and proceeded to their individual podiums.

The cameramen gave the thumbs-up to a man on the side, who, after chugging his iced coffee with raw sugar, honey, three pumps of espresso, oatmilk, and extra whipped cream, speed-walked to the desk with a stack of papers that he didn’t plan on reading. As he sat down, he turned 90 degrees, and signaled his readiness with a thumbs-up. We were rolling in 3..

2.. Wait, the camera’s not plugged in. Now we’re going live in 3.. 2.. 1…

Wallace: Good evening America! Today, here at XYZ studios, we’re holding the year 3000 presidential elections. My name is Chris Wallace X. I’ll be your host for tonight’s program. Our two candidates today have fought very hard to reach this stage.

Not literally, as our steps are easy to climb, but indeed in the election process. On the left, nearly at the edge of the stage, at 4 feet 7 inches, from Dinosaur, Colorado, we have Senator MacFarleft!

(Waits for the fake applause to die down)

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Wallace: On the right edge, at 6 feet 11 inches, from Soda Springs, Idaho, we’ve got Mayor Wainwright!

(Waits for the fake applause to die down) Wallace: So, we’ll start off and have you introduce yourselves before we get going with the questions. Senator MacFarleft, would you like to start?

Mayor: Why can’t I be first? This seems biased.

Wallace: Okay, you’re right. We’ll decide who starts with a coin flip. First, let’s just ensure that this is a clean game. No foul language or hitting after a whistle has been blown. Got it?

Senator: This isn’t football!

Wallace: Whatever, I’ve always wanted to do that. Mayor, since you’re the visiting party, heads or tails?

Mayor: Thank you. I’ll go with tails. Tails always wins.

Wallace: Okay. This is the coin I’m flipping. This is a fair quarter with both a heads and a tail side. Ready?

Wallace shows the quarter to both candidates. Wallace flips the coin high into the heavens, and it falls down like hail into his right palm. He then immediately flips it over into the back of his left hand.

Wallace: Heads. Senator, do you want to receive or kick off? I mean start or go second?

Senator: I’d like to start.

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Senator now looks directly into the camera with the glaring eyes of a panther.

Senator: (inaudibly) Good evening, America.

Wallace: We can’t hear you. You might be too short for the stand. Can someone get this guy a platform?

The producers place behind the podium a foot-tall platform that the Senator tediously climbs. As he stands up, he wipes sweat off of his face, inhales, exhales, and then approaches the microphone in front of him.

My name is Senator MacFarleft and I’m representing the House Party.

I’m running on the platform of free money for everybody and I hope I can get your vote today.

Narrator: Now Mayor.

Mayor: (bending down halfway to speak into the microphone) Hello all. Chris already said my name. (Detaches the microphone from the stand) I represent the Block Party. I honestly just really love having power. But helping the country’s cool makes the experience even better. I’m also someone who children can look up to, not just physically.

Narrator: Alright, well let’s get on then. Now, we’re in year 980 of the COVID-19 pandemic. With the outbreak of the

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Sigma variant, which connects to other variants and makes them worse, how do you think this should be handled? Let’s start with the Mayor.

Mayor: Well, I believe that we should just live with the pandemic. It’s been going on for such a long time that I don’t think it’s worth even fighting it at this point.

Senator: I disagree. I don't think it's been going on for a long time. Technically 980 is not a long time. Given humans have lived for over two million years, 980 is nothing.

Mayor: You’re wrong.

Senator: What are you gonna do about it?

(The Mayor approaches the Senator with closed knuckles) Wallace: Come on! We’re on live television! Our 12 viewers don’t have time for this.

Producer (off-stage): Let them fight! It’s good content. Plus a billion people are probably pirating the stream anyway.

Wallace (turns off the microphone): Security! Break these guys apart. They’re breaking the social distancing guidelines.

Senator: Apologies. Let’s restart. I think we should befriend COVID. At this rate, all of the variants are just teaming up together. With the old Delta and Omicron variants combining into Deltacron, I respect that collaboration. Maybe we just befriend them instead of fighting it.

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Mayor: They’re part of the Warsaw Pact already. It’s too late for that. They’re our enemies now.

Wallace: So, Senator, can you tell me about your plans to make an alliance? Mayor Wainwright did bring up a great point about them being in the Warsaw Pact.

Senator: Of course, this is a great question. This is something I’ve considered for a long time. Basically, we need to join the Warsaw Pact and leave the United Nations. The COVID variants have been more powerful than any other war.

Mayor: I disagree with leaving the UN. We need to stay!

Regardless of how powerful they are. No one’s declared war on COVID yet. I think we need to beat them at all costs. If the Soviets help them, at least we’ve got Canada.

Senator: I think that we should forgive the virus for everything it’s done. Now, I can show up to work sick since I have a mask protecting other people from getting germs.

Mayor: But it doesn’t have to be this way! This may come as a surprise, but before the pandemic, people didn’t wear masks.

(The audience gasps).

Senator: That’s a lie. Everyone in the history books is wearing a mask. George Washington, MLK, Mark Zuckerberg!

Wallace: Yeah, I’m agreeing with the Senator about that one.

Mayor, do you think the war would be too costly?

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Senator: I mean, we’ve already established troops. Our Air Force has Lysol spray blasters that clean a whole village in 10 seconds. Our Navy has submarines that release liquid soap into oceans. Our Army even has hand sanitizer guns that shoot for 250 feet. We can do it. We just need the support of the American people. Mobilize! Work in factories. Wear your masks. This is War! Wallace: Alright, with that being said, let’s restart everything.

We realized our filmers forgot to remove the lenses from the cameras.

(1-minute intermission) Wallace: Welcome back to the 3000 presidential debate.

Again, I’m your host Chris Wallace X. Due to a technical difficulty, we had a brief interruption in the debate. (both debaters are tied by ropes into chairs).

Wallace: Now, let’s restart. What’s your opinion on how to handle the pandemic?

Senator: We should work with the virus. I know this is odd, but all the details are on my campaign website with 20 pages of filler words and buzz words like “climate change.” The website is mediamuppet.com.

Mayor: Well, first of all, my website name is No.org, which sounds cooler. But it has a plan on destroying the pandemic and wiping it off the face of the Earth in my idea of a My Very

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Educated Mother agreement. The details are on the website, but to sum it up, we’ll partner with NASA to shoot COVID to Mercury, Venus, and Mars.

Senator: That’s awes- I mean that’s a horrible idea. It goes against the American Dream.

Mayor: Because COVID is an American nightmare!

Wallace: Okay, Okay. That’s enough. Let’s move on to the next one. What’s your opinion on border policies? Let's start with the Mayor.

Mayor: So we should completely close the border.

Cameraman, make sure you zoom in on me!

(The camera zooms in - Mayor looks bigger in the frame).

We cannot let anyone else into the country! Now Americans, do you want to have more competition for your jobs? Do you want to wait longer for your Americano at Starbucks? Seniors in high school, do you want more competition for college?

Wallace: Thank you MayMayor: Wait, shut up for a second! I want the American people to think about the questions I just asked.

(5 seconds pass) Mayor: Thank you.

Wallace: Okay. Now, Senator. It’s your turn.

Senator: This is ridiculous! We should completely open the border! America is a corp- I mean a country of equal

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opportunity. People from all parts of the world should be able to follow the beacon of light called the American Dream! Open the Mexican border. Let everyone through Ellis Island. Let everyone through Angel Island. We have plenty of room! And if they get by illegally, let them stay! Let’s get them IDs! Wallace: Mayor, now you have 5 minutes to respond.

Mayor: Have you thought of the current Americans? Illegal immigrants shouldn’t even be a thing with how Ellis Island and Angel Island are absolutely packed. Also, what if you bring in terrorists! We need strong border security.

Senator: One, if an American surpasses the border illegally, they’re really smart and should be rewarded with citizenship.

These cunning people would tremendously boost our industries! Two, if we bring in a terrorist, we can catch them and put them under sensitivity training. I believe in reforming anyone as opposed to punishing them, regardless of their background.

Mayor: This is the problem. We definitely have to tighten our Middle East immigration policies. We have to be safe! Plus, with COVID’s ability to navigate through our porous borders, we’ve had a 1000 year pandemic! Let’s prevent the next global issue from affecting us and close the borders!

Senator: Well, I remember back in 2080 your position was on expanding the borders. Remember in the 2080 debate?

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Mayor: False. That’s nonsense Senator: It’s on record.

Mayor: That’s a lie!

Senator: I have the video Mayor: It’s probably a deepfake Senator: It really isn't, Mayor. The videos on my website under the “Wainwright Whoopsies” section.

Mayor: Americans, that video is fake and dishonest. You can clearly see that it was edited.

Senator: Your claim is nonsense! The FBI literally released this video.

Mayor: The FBI is rigged. This brings me to my next point.

Let’s just have no investigations! I think they’re a little nosy.

Americans, do you want someone to know what you do on your phones every day?

Senator: Well, Americans. Zoom in on me! Trust me. We need strong cybersecurity.

Wallace: Hold on! Senator, you advocate for open borders but strong cybersecurity?

Senator: Yup Wallace: And Mayor, you call for closed borders but no cybersecurity?

Mayor: Yes sir.

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Wallace: So you’re both basically contradicting yourselves. (sigh). America’s absolutely in bad hands.

Mayor: No of course not.

Wallace: Any last words for the American people before I close this debate? Let’s start with Senator McFarleft.

Senator: Well, have a great night Americans. Just because I’m vertically challenged doesn’t mean I can’t get the job done. I work harder than Mayor Wainwright, and it’ll show if you elect me as your media mup-- I mean President of the United States of America. Children, if you’re watching, I’m the American dream.

Wallace: Now mayor. Please make this quick so I can stop wasting my time.

Mayor: Thank you, American people. Remember, you should always look up to your presidents, and no matter who you are, you’ll always look up to me.

Wallace: Well, folks, I believe that’s all we have time for.

Thank you for tuning into XYZ network, whether you’re watching an illegally recorded stream or actually watching it on TV. The future of America is on your screens. The voting polls open starting tomorrow night at 6:00 pm Pacific Standard Time. Be sure to either vote for Senator McFarleft or Mayor

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Wainwright. Voting for someone else won’t do you good. If you don’t vote, the FBI will find you. Have a great night!

The red recording light dies down and cameras all turn off Chris Wallace and the two candidates freeze in motion. The producers come onto the stage and carry the candidates down the steps to the side. With a pair of scissors, the main producer cuts the strings attached to their backs and places their lifeless bodies on the ground. They place the bodies in a large box.

They also take Wallace’s body, do the same with his strings, and place him in the same box. The workers then lock the box up and push it into a closet.

The main producer grabs his cell phone, unlocks his phone by saying “horse”, types in 10 digits, and calls. The phone picks up Producer: I think we got them, Kim. I think we did. The American people have to buy this! I still can’t believe they haven’t figured out that COVID isn’t a person! I’ll tell Vlad about everything tomorrow.

Kim: Good. Very great. But now we need a plan for when this stuff dies down.

Producer: I’m thinking about another variant. What do you think about the chi-variant?

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Kim: I’m iffy about that. Eventually we’ll run out of letters.

We need a backup plan right now.

Producer: Alright. What about delaying the results of the election? Maybe we can say that the officials who counted the votes accidentally miscounted and needed to restart from scratch.

Kim: That’s a better idea. But I think people will eventually find out. People are already finding out that it’s not even the year 3000. Some might honestly know about this whole hoax.

Producer: Let me get Vlad’s opinion on it. I’ll FaceTime him.

Kim: Okay.

(Kim hangs up and the phone beeps) (The Producer’s FaceTime ring goes off for 30 seconds) Vlad: Good evening comrades. What can I do for you today?

Producer: Ah, Vladimir. It’s nice to hear from you. We need a backup plan for this COVID stuff. More people are learning about our tactics. Do you have any new ideas that might be able to fool these Americans?

Vlad: Um. Let’s see. What about another variant? I’m sure we’re not out of letters.

Producer: We nearly are out. We have like three.

Vlad: What about just reusing some of the old names like delta?

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Producer: That will be too confusing. We’re literally personifying a virus. I think the people will call bluff.

Vlad: What about delta junior?

Producer (sarcastically): Cute. Maybe we can set up playdates for delta junior and omicron junior. Or maybe we say that delta gave delta junior a timeout. Stupid idea. How have you ruled Russia for so long?

Vlad: Don’t make me show you why. Anyways, what about climate change? We can make a hoax about that. People get really passionate about it.

Producer: But that idea’s too long-term. We need something on the shorter end, but with a longer shelf life than another variant.

Vlad: Fair point.

(The two engage in a staring contest for 5 minutes while they think of ideas).

Producer: What if we pretended World War III took place?

Vlad: I love it. I can finally put these nukes to use. So can Kim! Producer: No, I don’t mean actually getting into the war. We can brainwash the populations of America, North Korea, Russia, and all of these other countries that are vulnerable to misinformation.

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Vlad: Where’s the fun in that? I can start off the war by invading my country’s lost son, Ukraine. I’ve always wanted to ever since Zelenskyy made that one meme about my hairline and texted it to all the world leaders in our group chat.

Everyone was and still is clowning on me for it. This will make him pay back.

Producer: All this work over a meme? Are you serious? That’s a petty move, Vlad.

Vlad: Everyone knows how sensitive I am about the hairline.

Kim won’t tell me where he gets his wigs from, so I can’t do anything to cover it up. I might invade North Korea after Ukraine for that.

Producer: No Vlad, this is a horr-Vlad: I’ll call the military officials right now. This will be worth it. Thanks for this idea!

(The phone hangs up) The producer just sits in disbelief and realizes what he has just done. He thinks about calling back Putin to change his mind, but it’s no use. He then calls Kim. (The phone rings and Kim picks up).

Kim: What did Vlad say?

Producer: I think I just started World War III. (The producer sighs).

Kim: Sweet!

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Producer: This is bad! What are you talking about?

Kim: Buddy, you just started a world war on your own. You just became the most impactful person in American history.

Producer: You’re right.

(The Producer hangs up and dials in a new number. The recipient picks up).

Producer: Good evening! I’d like to nominate myself to become the TIME magazine Person of the Year.

End

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