Adelaide Magazine No. 39, August 2020

INDEPENDENT REVISTA
MONTHLY LITERÁRIA
LITERARY INDEPENDENTE
MAGAZINE
MENSAL

ADELAIDE FOUNDERS / FUNDADORES
Stevan V. Nikolic & Adelaide Franco Nikolic
Independent Monthly Literary Magazine
Revista Literária Independente Mensal EDITOR IN CHIEF / EDITOR-CHEFE
Year V, Number 39, August 2020 Stevan V. Nikolic
Ano V, Número 39, agosto 2020
[email protected]
ISBN-13: 978-1-953510-17-4
MANAGING DIRECTOR / DIRECTORA EXECUTIVA
Adelaide Literary Magazine is an independent inter- Adelaide Franco Nikolic
national monthly publication, based in New York and
Lisbon. Founded by Stevan V. Nikolic and Adelaide Franco GRAPHIC & WEB DESIGN
Nikolic in 2015, the magazine’s aim is to publish quality Adelaide Books LLC, New York
poetry, fiction, nonfiction, artwork, and photography, as
well as interviews, articles, and book reviews, written in CONTRIBUTING AUTHORS IN THIS ISSUE
English and Portuguese. We seek to publish outstanding
literary fiction, nonfic-tion, and poetry, and to promote John Young, Gracjan Kraszewski,
the writers we publish, helping both new, emerging, and Carolyn R. Russell, Adrian Astur Alvarez,
established authors reach a wider literary audience.
Robert Dukelow, Peter Able,
A Revista Literária Adelaide é uma publicação men- Carolyn Linck, Cathy Adams, Max Watt,
sal internacional e independente, localizada em Nova
Iorque e Lisboa. Fundada por Stevan V. Nikolic e Ade- Sidney Stern, Sheila Kinsella,
laide Franco Nikolic em 2015, o objectivo da revista é Jennifer Swallow, Mike Hickman,
publicar poesia, ficção, não-ficção, arte e fotografia de
qualidade assim como entrevistas, artigos e críticas Jihoon Park, Richard Thieme,
literárias, escritas em inglês e por-tuguês. Pretendemos T. M. Boughnou, Zach Murphy,
publicar ficção, não-ficção e poesia excepcionais assim Gary James Erwin, Susie Gharib,
como promover os escritores que publicamos, ajudan-
do os autores novos e emergentes a atingir uma audiên- Bo Fisher, Joseph Doyague,
cia literária mais vasta. Esther Neema, Marcus Berkemeier,

(http://adelaidemagazine.org) Natasha Rai, Kent Jacobson,
Jennifer Blanke, Bill Portela,
Published by: Adelaide Books, New York Bruce Hoppe, Susan McCartney,
244 Fifth Avenue, Suite D27 Carol Glick, Lisa Romeo, Riley Winchester,
New York NY, 10001 Daniel Senser, Celine Low,
e-mail: [email protected] Helen Sokolsky, Nardine Sanderson
phone: (917) 477 8984
http://adelaidebooks.org

Copyright © 2019 by Adelaide Literary Magazine

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be
reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written
permission from the Adelaide Literary Maga-zine
Editor-in-chief, except in the case of brief quo-tations
embodied in critical articles and reviews.

CONTENTS / CONTEÚDOS YOUNG MAN’S SLAVE
by Bo Fisher 107
FICTION LOVE AND REBIRTH
by Esther Neema 116
NEXT THE CASUAL THINKER
by John Young 7 by Marcus Berkemeier 126

NUCLEAR GEOPOLITICS AND PLATO NONFICTION
by Gracjan Kraszewski 9 CHANGING THE SCORE
by Natasha Rai 141
BAR THE DOOR WHITE PEOPLE
by Carolyn R. Russell 24 by Kent Jacobson 147
THE RACIST INSIDE US,
SCIENCE PROJECT JOURNAL AN EVOLUTIONARY PERSPECTIVE
by Robert Dukelow 26 by Bill Portela 154
STORM AND THE PARABLE
PLEASANTNESS OF LOOKING AT THE FENCE
by Peter Able 33 by Bruce Hoppe 159
THE BUS RIDE
WHEN SUSAN MET BECCA by Susan McCartney 164
by Carolyn Linck 38 IT LEFT A BAD TASTE IN MY MOUTH
by Carol Glick 168
PLAYING FROG NOTES FROM THE FATHER FIELD
by Cathy Adams 43 by Lisa Romeo 172
THE MOST SCARIEST THING
SKELETON IN THE CESS PIPE by Riley Winchester 177
by Max Watt 52
POETRY
DEEP WATER THE CANYON
by Sheila Kinsella 61 by Daniel Senser 187
GODDESS
STILL LOVE by Celine Low 189
by Jennifer Swallow 64 A GATEKEEPER’S VIGIL by
Helen Sokolsky 191
CEREBRAL AND CONTEMPTUOUS FLAME DIVINE
by Mike Hickman 73 by Nardine Sanderson 195

STONE SKIN 3
by Jihoon Park 76

A HAPPIER ENDING
by Richard Thieme 79

ELLA
by T. M. Boughnou 86

IN ROTATION
by Zach Murphy 92

RIVER RUN
by Gary James Erwin 93

INTIMATE
by Susie Gharib 105

Adelaide Literary Magazine
INTERVIEW
AL DAWSON
Author of
SEARCHING FOR NORIKO 203
BONNIE CARLSON
Author of
RADICAL ACCEPTANCE 208
CHRISTINE KING
Author of
WHAT DIDN'T HAPPEN 214
JIM METZNER
Author of
SACRED MOUNDS 218

4

FICTION



NEXT

by John Young

Since her death six months earlier, all sani- watch to note the time. Three minutes out
ty for Graham has been compressed within into the bay then three minutes back. His
the contours of challenges, bright, tightly normal time.
bordered oases of purpose and achieve-
ment in a world, flat and grey and devoid In his mid-forties, fit and well-built,
of meaning. He builds his day, task by task, Graham is confident in the sea. Three min-
around demanding questions: “What’s utes out and three minutes back. “That’s
next?” “What’s new to do?” “How can I do safe.” That’s what always he said to reassure
this better, quicker?” In troubling moments his wife Mary who would stand on the beach
of repose, which are infrequent and when- strolling up and down trying to hide her anx-
ever possible avoided, he has come close iety. She did not share his love of the sea.
to accepting that he is no longer a well-bal-
anced person; but appearing normal, con- The water is cool, and he feels invigo-
vincing friends and colleagues – and himself rated - strong and alive. He strikes out in
- that he is functioning and functioning well a vigorous crawl, one stroke after another,
is itself a challenge which he readily accepts. his whole being concentrated in the next
stroke. But as he swims, he momentarily
A Saturday morning. The lawn is mowed. imagines Mary holding his big red towel
Graham glances at his watch and notes with as she always did, walking towards him,
a fleeting degree of satisfaction, that the job smiling as he came ashore.
has been completed in record time. What’s
next? The sky is cloudless, and the day is Now he stops, treading water. He looks
already warm. A good day for swimming, at his watch, his guess is good. He has done
he judges. His thoughts turn to the little se- three minutes.
cluded beach a half hour’s drive from where
he lives. A thought, a new challenge nudges its
way into his mind. Push on a bit, a new
At the bay Graham parks his car, and target, he says to himself. How about four
briskly follows his usual routine, stripping minutes? Mary would have been watching
to his bathing trunks, locking his car, and him from the from the beach expecting
hiding the key. Under the clear blue sky, the him to turn. But Mary was dead, her life cut
sea is calm. For a few minutes he paddles short by a drunk driver. The image of her
at the water’s edge, enjoying the caress of lying by the roadside flashes into his mind.
the sun on his back. Then he glances at his He feels again her hand squeezing his. With
a flash of anger, he strikes out strongly.

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Again, he stops, treading water to check A woman enters his field of vision.
his progress. Six minutes have passed. He
thinks perhaps he should turn back. A new “I am terribly sorry,” he hears her say.
challenge? Further out than ever before?
Why ever not? Graham looks up and sees the tall, young
woman scrutinising him, concern sketched
He becomes aware of a languorous on her broad attractive face.
numbness slowly seeping through his body.
And now, his consciousness seems to split. “I saw you.” She points out into the bay. “I
He is inside his body, aware of his breathing, thought you were in trouble. I was going to
his heartbeat; but, at the same time, he is phone emergency services then I saw you
distant, merging with the warm, blue sky, make it to the beach.”
detached, indifferently observing a body, its
arms and legs moving slowly, machine-like “I was in trouble.” Graham says with a
in the sea. faint smile. Then after a pause: “I was ...I
was very stupid.”
Weird, he thinks, but he is not alarmed.
At peace, he vaguely senses the offshore The woman nods and returns his smile.
current bearing him gently along. “But how are you now?”

A sharp, painful image suddenly lances “Recovering, I think,” Graham replies hes-
into his mind: Mary, standing on the beach itantly. He manages to ease himself into a
at the water edge, red towel in her hand, loose cross-legged sitting position and finds
looking out to sea, white faced, eyes wide, himself fondling the dog that is once again
distraught. For Mary, his life was important, paying close attention to his face. “Lovely dog.
part of some big, joyous enterprise, a world Brigid is it? I think I heard you call her Brigid.”
vivid and meaningful because it was shared. As an afterthought he gives his own name.

Seized by the memory he turns towards “I’m Alice,” the woman says, laughing as
the shore, all purpose, all his reserves of she flicks back a strand of straw blond hair
energy now focussed in the moment. One that has drifted across her right eye. “It is a
stroke at a time. Next stroke, next stroke, lovely day, isn’t it?” Without a further word
now another, another...next …next. she sits down on the beach beside him.

As in a dream he senses sand beneath his Graham nods. For a moment he won-
fingertips. Exhausted and barely conscious ders what he should do or say next, but as
he crawls up onto the beach to where the he gazes out across the bay the thought
sea grass mingles with the sand, turns onto seems trivial, and annoyingly intrusive.
his back, and in an instant is asleep.
Sensing that this is a time for non-play,
Something wet is lapping against his for rest, the dog slumps down on the beach
face. For a moment he imagines that he is beside them.
still in the sea and readies himself to swim.
Then he opens his eyes to find a large dog, About the Author
a labrador, licking his face.
John Young is an old chap living in St
“Brigid” a distant female voice is shouting. Andrews, UK. Interested in exploring themes
“Brigid. Come here!” of longings and limits.

8

NUCLEAR
GEOPOLITICS AND

PLATO

in a Bunker thirty feet below ground,
100 years in the future

by Gracjan Kraszewski

Trends in Consumerism, Capitalism, and October 9th of Hans’ Year IV at ESSN-
Need-Creation in the Affluent Peoples of WNAU-AL became a day he would never
the Euro-American West forget. He was introduced to Plato’s Re-
public, a work that he lists as his “favorite
(CCCP) book of all time,”1 and, that very same day,
he attempted to live out the exact example

1  The only possible second was St/Sir Thomas More’s Utopia. When explaining his attachment to it
Hans always began outside the work, with the form and style. “Book One” and “Book Two,” neatly
connected in one slim volume, economically written though by no means to the detriment of
necessary content. Never before, or since, had Hans read anything that made communism, if not
that then something like communism, “communitarianism?,” no that would imply division, small
separate entities working in tandem, not exactly like the seamless organic whole of the Island,
seem so appealing and, more importantly, so possible, so maybe this time it could work (?). More’s
explanations of daily life in Utopia were, to Hans, as entertaining and they were imitable; even if
only to really be imitated, to be actually put into practice, in Nowhere. Nothing so grab-throttled his
attention as the Utopians views on jewelry and ostentatious wealth—what sublime brilliance! What
insight! The Utopians cared little for external appearances and, perhaps in keeping with some maxim
concerning money and masters, taught their populace to despise anything pertaining to it by two

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primary methods: 1. Allowing children to play with the finest and shiniest, most ‘priceless’ jewels
with the understanding that they were nothing more than worthless toys and to be given up upon
entrance into adulthood. 2. Fitting prisoners with chains made of these priceless gems, forever
tainting their sparkle with associations of transgression, bondage and punitive hopefully reformative
and dissuasive humiliation. Utopians vision of wealth as inherently childish and imprisoning
(literally…and in this did More solve the problem, once and for all, of financial slavery?) enabled
them to not only focus on more important things but to use this optic to great societal advantage.
Perhaps the most obvious example being its use in war. Wealth—which More notes the Utopians
had a near-bottomless amount of—could be used to bribe opposing nations (i.e. you [citizens of
opposing nations] will receive blank cheque amount if you capture these leaders, even your King,
the war-mongers leading you into potential war, and turn them over to us) and end conflicts before
they even began (Lao-Tzu would surely approve) or, should it come to war, the Utopians could pay
a band of bloodthirsty savages, true monsters of war, liking to kill and pillage and little else, to be
their mercenary avant-garde confident that these savages would always be on their side because
the only thing else these savages cared about besides war was money; they were lust-monsters, for
blood, for the fight, for the loot and no one, not even close, could pay what the Utopians could pay,
the double-blessed Utopians with the deepest pockets but the least regard for them, the (over)
stuffed haversacks kept so squeakily clean in check, so to speak. While at ESSNWNAU-AL, Hans
had ruminated on this particular concept—the learned despising of money, more accurately the
first method of making the coveted and shiny childish and a sign of stunted development—quite
a bit, but especially in tandem with his notes from the CCCP class concerning the mental disease
that afflicted Americans in particular, and reached its apex between the years SCE 2011-2028. The
epidemic came with the viralization of the Internet; the growth of online communities on platforms
such as Facebook, WeBe, YouTube, FamilyFlockDock and InstaView, others too, but these the most
famous, the most “defining” of that era, where people for who knows why decided almost as if en
masse to publicize for mass consumption even the most trivial aspects of their daily lives. Hans
believes the meeting point of this mental disease with the SCE 2011-2028 American culture’s failure
to live the Utopian attitude towards money and the childish—this culture’s exact opposite approach
as demonstrated in adults’ infatuation with things like superhero movies, superhero figurines
and toys (Ben’s brother Steve, see Col. Star Spangled Banner and Red Glare Rocket Boy, suffers
somewhat from this disease and that he is a “successful” “adult” does not mitigate but rather
exacerbates the problem all the more), even wearing superhero costumes at different times of the
year, adult-themed theme parks, and most egregious the roughly 93.7% favoritism for consuming
animated movies obviously intended for children instead of anything even remotely intellectually
stimulating, and never, 0.02% did chose the following, some kind of foreign film that would require
employment of a skill learned during actual childhood in order to follow along along the bottom
of the subtitled screen—was best encapsulated in a YouTube program, circa SCE 2019-2022/23?,
entitled Little Loveheart Johnny’s Luvtastic Playtime Show. The premise? Johnny, a toddler from
anywhere, USA, opens toys in front of a camera, his parents behind the camera filming, for episodes
lasting anywhere from 5-9 minutes. That’s it. Johnny sitting on the ground of his palatial bedroom
(because the family got bonkers-$$$$€€££$$$ off the monetized advertising of this “show,” pulling
in a reported annual income exceeding eight figures) in his McMansion of a new home opening toys
and, because he’s a toddler, having nothing new to say, ever, no new insight or anything relatively
useful, really making more sounds (alternating grunts of excitement or disappointment; the latter
more plentiful to at least a 7-1 ratio because the house, this huge house, is veritably deluged with
toys, toys, toys, toys, toys, toys, toys, toys, toys, toys toys, toys, toys, toys, toys toys, toys, toys,
toys, toys toys, toys, toys, toys, toys toys, toys, toys, toys, toys toys, toys, toys, toys, toys toys, toys,

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from said book in class and ended up vom- coffee that is probably only 10 percent that,
iting, in front of everyone, the one and only with the remaining 90 percentile consisting
time he had ever thrown-up, period, in his of sugar, artificial sweetener, flavored syrup,
life. And it was the day that he first sought steamed milk, and if you’re used to drinking
psychiatric help, rather had it imposed upon beer that is <1.4% ABV because it’s mainly
him from above, for the many unhealed water, tepidly flavored water that tastes left
scars and unseen wounds of his feral child- out in the sun flat even when’s it’s ice cold,
hood; or so goes the official word. It was the then Year IV CCCP is that first designation.
day that he first met Little Orange Bottle, his Year IV, unlike Years I-III CCCP, is dedicated
steadfast in-pocket companion. almost exclusively to books and is therefore
this bridge from the visually stimulating en-
CCCP Year IV is tedious in comparison to tertainment laden triumvirate preceding to
the first three segments of the course. Ev- the Year V/VI exhilarating light at the end of
eryone likes Toddlers Fighting Over Toys and the tunnel (now I get to focus on my work,
You’re dating Him? No, He’s Mine, Girl. Hans my work!) finale before readying the final
especially liked the films, all the different product for the great American free market.
movies and visual stimulation of Years I and Some ESSNWNAU-AL faculty and staff have
II. He, in addition to job coaching2, took on a drawn comparison between Year IV-CCCP
film minor of sorts with subminors in Silent and the formative first year S.T. as both are
Film, Film Theory, and the Theory of Film painful, yet necessary, opportunities for
Direction. The Year III Fandom course can growth and maturity.
get monotonous and Hans isn’t really a big
sports guy. But compared to Year IV, it’s still The classroom for Year IV-CCCP does
fairly exciting. not help the larger dichotomous issues—
general alertness v. propensity to drift and
Year IV is either too boring or too sophis- daydream, mental acuity v. mental insipidity,
ticated to appreciate. Year IV is black coffee care v. not care, live-wired eyes thrown open
or Trappist beer. If you’re used to drinking

toys, toys, toys toys, toys, toys, toys, toys toys, toys, toys, toys, toys toys, toys, toys, toys, toys toys,
toys, toys, toys, toys toys, toys, toys, toys, toys toys, toys, toys, toys, toys toys, toys, toys, toys, toys
toys, toys, toys, toys, toys toys, toys, toys, toys, toys toys, toys, toys, toys, toys toys, toys, toys, toys,
toys toys, toys, toys, toys, toys) than words and the whole while the mother, who usually films, is
saying stuff behind the camera that were this to be done for the private consumption of the family
home movie genre, circa SCE 1987, would be endearing and cute (“I just hate hearing my voice on
camera, Dave.” Husbands squeezes wife’s shoulder. “I love it, honey. I love you”) but because it’s
done for 34.5m “subscribers” and a total viewership palate exceeding 3B and is backed by corporate
sponsors and is the very epicenter of Old America’s materialistic hedonism and, especially, is done
under the false premise that Johnny (who still goes ‘dia-d-eye-T’ in his pants) actually likes doing
this—“we only do it because he likes it,” “look, the day he tells us he’s not having fun anymore is
the day the cameras go off,” “it’s all for him…isn’t that what all parents do? In their own way, put
their kids’ first, have their best interests at heart?”—is something very near or even right on the
etymological nose of “sad.”

2 Hans decided on job coaching as a final project near end of Year III after taking an introductory class
in the subject with Dr. Auggie Orville Studdrill Auckenboller. Hans then asked Auckenboller to be his
advisor.

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

attention abundance syndrome v. attention environment; the green campus dotted
hyperactive deficit disorder—stalking the with water, water everywhere, the neo-clas-
class. One gets the impression that Year IV- sical eleven-story Schliemann Library at the
CCCP is like a blind date gone wrong but the center of campus, overlooking Flathead
double-misfires have already confirmed to Lake-Southwest, the many different styles
one another that they are, in fact, Joey G. of architecture including adobe (student
and Sally T., and have already sat down at housing) and industrial (General Sciences
table, and all either can do is grin and bear buildings). The Introspective Arts building
it and get through it unto not again, never is modeled on Picasso’s Blue period3 while
again. That’s the majority opinion, any- the Student Union, which houses the Com-
ways. In the minority: avid readers, casual mons Eating Area, is inspired by an Old West
readers, those who like books even super- animal feeding trough.
ficially, high school debate team veterans,
compulsive social gabbers, deep thinkers The Year-IV CCCP classroom seats
even if pretentiously so, and those inclined one-hundred and seventeen. It’s in the
to philosophical/intellectual/and or juris- basement of the school’s fallout shelter.
prudential arguments, all of whom find the The fallout shelter’s main space is twenty
class nothing short of a day at the beach; feet below ground beyond thirty foot steel
meaning the second of the above options— doors. The classroom, which is the base-
too sophisticated—can be reworked for ment, so not really in the basement as it is
them as just sophisticated enough. the basement, is twenty or thirty feet below
that past another set of thirty foot steel
The classroom is unique to ESSN- doors. These doors have been spray painted
WNAU-AL. Everywhere else on campus with all types of graffiti and it’s about the
the classrooms are state of the art and up only thing interesting, visually speaking, to
to date with all the latest technology and speak of here.
pedagogical instrumentation. Those (the
other) classrooms have beautiful, nearly The classroom has all the antiseptic
floor to ceiling windows that import sun- squeamishness of an early S.C.E. 2000s East-
light and export views of the surrounding ern-European medical horror movie. There

3 And what a resplendent sweep (sweep: the In. Arts interior murals) it was. The trajectory began
with the Portrait of Suzanne Bloch melding into, as it were, Femme aux Bras Croisés and the Death
of Casagemas leading into, if it can be said to do so, La Vie, The Old Guitarist, and Les Noces de
Pierrette. The whole vision finished, and even centered upon The Blue Room, but before arriving
there there is this magnificent criticism of art (wordless; meaning painted on, literally, and having
nothing to do with either Picasso or his Blue Period yet, somehow, all seamlessly integrated into
this beautiful whole) from basically the end of the Renaissance into Picasso and modernity. It was
a penetrating analysis, so said those who understood and could appreciate it; (some highlights
being) the difference between the open sky of Rubens’ Martyrdom of St. Livinus and the very closed,
shale black, sky of Goya in his The Third of May 1808, a product, so said those who knew, of the
abandonment of supernatural faith—in the former literally a sky flooded with angels, a thin veil, if
any, between this world and the next—in favor of cold reason, as cold and black and walled off as
that painting, Goya’s; spotted impressionism held up against the expressionists, in particular Gaugin
who is seen making his green colors the greenest green possible and his red and blues the same and
then from this into Kandinsky. A long time is spent on Composition VIII.

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are, of course, no windows on the walls. the most pungent smelling salts available
Green-tiled walls. A pukish type of light yet it all went wrong even if in such a banal
green, a pastel-like green, that makes one and ridiculously dumb-like-dumbo way.
feel queasy just looking at it. Pastel green
tiled walls from the floor to the ceiling. Dr. EW DFS is a womondofemy plus. She
The ceiling is also done in this exact same is an uber-womondofemy, someone who
style and pattern giving the room an insane believes that subterraneans are to blame
asylum padded cell type feel only green not for all the world’s ills—fair enough, maybe?
white. The room is very cold. This adds to Maybe not? Probably not definitely incon-
the feeling of medical terror. It’s as if this is clusive?—and someone who paradoxically
the on the QT clandestine cryogenics exper- rails, I mean endlessly drones on, on how
imentation laboratory; look, that’s really the the last thing in the world a womondofemy
crux of the matter, it’s more of a lab than a should do is seek approval from subterra-
room and you feel like you’re next to get neans, especially romantic approval based
conked in the back of the head, drenched on/in physical appearance, and that a
in formaldehyde like a dissection pig or frog, self-respecting womondofemy should seek
and poked by scrubbed-in (scrubs are usu- to be valued for:
ally this same puckish pastel green), blue
latex gloved, probe wielding doctors with 1. Her intellect.
much too eager amphetamine-laced anes-
thesiologists right there over their shoul- 2. Her social and political opinions.
ders in case you wake up when you’re not
supposed to. The lights are dim and yellow 3. Her business/educational/leadership
and tend to flicker on and off now and then. skills.
The floor is black. The chalkboard is black.
There is white chalk, but even the chairs are 4. Her sense of humor.
green. There are one-hundred and seven-
teen green chairs, and therefore available 5. Her wit.
seats at times aplenty, in the room.
6. H er toughness in negotiations, i.e. ne-
Dr. Emily Williams-Davis-Fontenot Ste- gotiation skills, aka boardroom NYC
venson teaches Year-IV CCCP. That was also grit.
part of the McStarkVegas scandal settle-
ment: automatic granting of Doctor of Phi- 7. Her technological savvy (and),
losophy in Magyar Semiotics and likewise/
matching automatic appointment to Full 8. Her refusal, an obstinacy even ap-
Professor in the Consumerism branch of proaching outright intransigence, to ever
ESSNWNAU-AL’s Department of Economics. let a subterranean compliment her, open a
Starting salary: $137,099.01/annum. Dr. EW door for her, or help her with a too heavy
DFS is, indeed, a bombshell of step 1 level package she’s carrying, among other things.
A, highly classified while hiding in plain sight “It would be better for you to fall backwards
type, American beauty. It’s not hard to see down the stairs, all the contents of your
why McStarkVegas acted as he did or why many packages spilling out and breaking
he said it was worth it: kissing her while into countless pieces down those stairs
(she was) unconscious, his lips intended as while you end up with quite a lower back
bruise, than to ever, EVER, allow the un-
manned ones to lend a hand. Because sol-
diers: once you let them lend a hand it’s
not long before you’re the handmaiden,” so

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goes the saying/motto/mantra some (okay, some people in the class wonder. Hans
really only the most committed) womond- thinks this all the time: that, basically, Dr.
ofemys are fond of repeating daily before, EW DFS’s life is one giant, loud and obnox-
during, and after brushing their teeth. ious, though superficially gorgeous—super-
ficial as “on the surface,” meaning literally
Dr. EW DFS says that a womondofemy her bomb-looks, not as meaning to indicate
should never “pander to subterraneans’ a lack of intellectual depth because there is
eyes” nor should she care the slightest bit no question she is verifiably (an IQ test, for
about fashion (the highest level of patriar- example) smart—non sequitur.
chal oppression: womondofemys as dolls,
dressed to the nines simply for subterra- She does make delicious brownies.
nean pleasure), nor should she know any-
thing about cooking lest she get to know the Dr. EW DFS, dressed in a shirt that looks
kitchen and then get told by a “Neander- like a silk bathrobe, and hot pink spandex,
thal” to get back in there.4 on this October 9th afternoon, flips her per-
fectly curled blonde hair back and forth
Dr. EW DFS tells the class all these things, across her well-featured face, a fine face, a
incessantly and each week, right at the hale girl no doubt, as she awaits an answer
start of class, and at the end too, and yet to the class-wide question she just posed
each week she brings homemade brownies concerning Robinson’s The Libertarian Don’t
to class and wears the latest Italian short Tread on Me I’m a Good Person even Though
shorts with extremely revealing tank tops I Don’t Care about the Poor and if you Do
that can only be bought with a virtual for- You’re a Cuckservative Socialist Manual.
eign currency. Her outfits aren’t befitting a
professor, to say the scraping the bottom Robinson’s book followed a string of
of the barrel multiple times least. She socio-economic treatises from the past six
looks ready for some boardwalk to sand weeks including Marx’s Das Kapital, Leo
to everyone get in their swimming suits XIII’s Rerum Novarum (with a concurrent
California August beach volleyball but hey, reading of Centisimus Annus, this nicely fol-
I’m already there, in my swimsuit. And, it’s lowing a very heated and at times impos-
like ridiculously freezing in this green bomb sibly disagreeable discussion on Quadra-
shelter classroom, so what’s up with that? gesimo Anno5), some essays by Hillarie
Belloc, and a packet of short pieces—not

4 Q uestion: Why don’t womondofemys need to own wristwatches or any other time-telling device?
Answer: Because there’s a clock on the stove. (A male student once told this joke in Dr. EW DFS’
presence and the scuttlebutt is that he’s somewhere on an ice shelf in Antarctica, in exile, and no
one knows for how long).

5 A French student in the class named Elodie Louise Camilla Rochebloine provoked feverish into a tizzy
near beehive buzzing responses that, when taken together, were like a cyclone slash tornado when
she mounted the class podium and, in filibuster style, read aloud selected sections of the French
translation of QA four times in a row, taking advantage of Dr. EW DFS’s rule that any discourse in a
non-English language was to be given a full, uninterrupted hearing the length of which was solely
up to the presenter’s discretion.

 The following is what she read:

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 “ Au déclin du XIXesiècle, l’évolution économique et les développements nouveaux de l’industrie
tendaient, en presque toutes les nations, à diviser toujours davantage la société en deux classes: d’un
côté, une minoritéde riches jouissant à peu près de toutes les commodités qu’offrent en si grande
abondance les inventions modernes ; de l’autre, une multitude immense de travailleurs réduits à une
angoissante misère et s’efforçant en vain d’en sortir…. Alors, le 15 mai 1891, retentit la voix si longtemps
attendue, voix que ni les difficultés n’avaient effrayée, ni l’âge affaiblie, mais qui, avec une vigoureuse
hardiesse, orientait sur le terrain social l’humanité dans les voies nouvelles…. vous connaissez fort
bien l’admirable doctrine qui fait de l’encyclique Rerum novarum un document inoubliable. Le grand
Pape y déplore qu’un si grand nombre d’hommes “se trouvent dans une situation d’infortune et de
misère imméritée” il y prend luimême courageusement en main la défense “des travailleurs que le
malheur des temps avait livrés, isolés et sans défense, à des maîtres inhumains et à la cupidité d’une
concurrence effrénée” Il ne demande rien au libéralisme, rien non plus au socialisme, le premier
s’étant révélé totalement impuissant à bien résoudre la question sociale, et le second proposant un
remède pire que le mal, qui eût fait courir la société humaine de plus grands dangers…. Les idées et
les directives de Léon XIII ont été réalisées de diverses manières, selon les lieux et les circonstances.
En certaines régions, une seule et même association se proposa d’atteindre tous les buts assignés par
le Pontife. Ailleurs, on préféra recourir, selon qu’y invitait la situation, en quelque sorte à une division
du travail, laissant à des groupements spéciaux le soin de défendre sur le marché du travail les droits
et les justes intérêts des associés, à d’autres la mission d’organiser l’entraide dans les questions
économiques, tandis que d’autres enfin se consacraient tout entiers aux seuls besoins religieux et
moraux de leurs membres ou à d’autres tâches du même ordre….Aussi, comptant uniquement sur le
tout-puissant concours de Celui qui a voulu ouvrir à tous les hommes les voies du salut,[77] efforçons-
nous d’aider autant que nous pouvons les pauvres âmes éloignées de Dieu, de les dégager des soins
temporels qui les absorbent à l’excès, et enseignons-leur à tendre avec confiance vers les biens
éternels.On peut espérer obtenir ce résultat plus aisément qu’il ne semblerait de prime abord. Car
si les hommes les plus déchus gardent au fond d’eux-mêmes, comme un feu couvant sous la cendre,
d’admirables ressources spirituelles qui sont le témoignage non équivoque d’âmes naturellement
chrétiennes, combien plus n’en doit-il pas rester dans les cœurs de ceux, si nombreux, qui ont erré
plutôt par ignorance ou par l’effet des circonstances extérieures !...D’ailleurs, des signes pleins de
promesses d’une rénovation sociale apparaissent dans les organisations ouvrières, parmi lesquelles
Nous apercevons, à la grande joie de Notre âme, des phalanges serrées de jeunes travailleurs
chrétiens qui se lèvent à l’appel de la grâce divine et nourrissent la noble ambition de reconquérir
au Christ l’âme de leurs frères. Nous voyons avec un égal plaisir les dirigeants des organisations
ouvrières qui, oublieux de leurs intérêts et soucieux d’abord du bien de leurs compagnons, s’efforcent
d’accorder leurs justes revendications avec la prospérité de la profession, et ne se laissent détourner
de ce généreux dessein par aucun obstacle, par aucune défiance. Et parmi les jeunes gens que leur
talent ou leur fortune appelle à prendre bientôt une place distinguée dans les classes supérieures
de la société, on en voit un grand nombre qui étudient avec un plus vif intérêt les problèmes sociaux
et donnent la joyeuse espérance qu’ils se voueront tout entiers à la rénovation sociale….(then she
repeated) tout entiers à la rénovation sociale…. tout entiers à la rénovation sociale….. tout entiers à
la rénovation sociale…. tout entiers à la rénovation sociale.”

(extraits fortement abrégés): Lettre Encyclique du Souverain Pontife Pie XI (15 mai 1931)
QUADRAGESIMO ANNO;

 A UX PATRIARCHES, PRIMATS, ARCHEVÊQUES, ÉVÊQUES ET AUTRES ORDINAIRES DE LIEU, EN PAIX ET EN
COMMUNION AVEC LE SIÈGE APOSTOLIQUE AINSI QU’AUX FIDÈLES DE L’UNIVERS CATHOLIQUE TOUT

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all of them from economists, Dr. EW DFS “‘By the term ‘cuckservative’ I am
explained— from S.C.E. 20/21st century speaking about a type of ex-conservative
people Hans hadn’t heard of until that deficient in the necessary fortitude to seize
point: Ann Coulter, Glenn Beck, S.E. Cupp, upon the opportunity provided by the cir-
Paul Krugman, Paul Joseph Watson, Rudi cumstances of the late political situation
Dornbusch, and Robert Mundell. There was in which two choices alone could be made:
a long, sixty page feature article the class to advance in the natural evolution of con-
had to read, too, printed on bright orange servative values and save our country, as
paper, authored by Robert Schuman. I and my fellow Patriots have done, or, to
winnow away downstream, along with
“What’s a cuckservative?” a guy in the the rest of the societal defectives, floating
class asks, breaking the silence. downstream dead and limp into the abyss
of national destruction. The second option
Dr. EW DFS raises her eyebrows. “Anyone?” is simultaneously the chosen path and natu-
rally selected destiny of Democrats, liberals,
No one says a word. “Well,” she says, “you progressives, socialists, communists, social
tell me. And not just you, Robert, anyone. All justice warriors, non-King James Bible be-
of you read the book. How does the author lieving Christians, environmentalists, hip-
define it?” pies and hipsters; more than this indeed,
without question, but the list is too long to
“It was kind of confusing,” Robert says. sufficiently name here. You know who you
are. Suffice to say, our path is the righteous
“Why so?” Dr. EW DFS asks. “Read the one. And while the aforementioned group
definition out loud. It’s on,” thumbing of degenerates will reap what they sow, the
through her copy of the book, sitting casu- cuckservatives are to be singled out for spe-
ally on the front of her desk, on the right cial mention. They are the nadir of the entire
corner of the front, pink spandexed legs left-leaning spectrum. They know the truth,
crossed over one another, biting her bottom the proper path that we have trodden and
lip as she skims through the pages, “page set out upon and yet, for reasons unknown,
six. Here it is.” most likely chronic bouts of cowardice, they
have chosen to cast their lot with those on
There is a collective shuffle of pages in the false way. They are ‘cucks’ in the fullest
the classroom as the students open their sense of the word, even the sound of the
own texts to page six. Some are slower than word fits them well. They are fake conserva-
others making the sound longer and louder tives, fake Americans, betrayers and traitors
than it has to be. all.6’ ”

“Robert,” she says, “can you read the “Thank you, Robert.”
definition?”

He obliges the request.

ENTIER : SUR LA RESTAURATION DE L’ORDRE SOCIAL, EN PLEINE CONFORMITÉ AVEC LES PRÉCEPTES DE
L’ÉVANGILE, À L’OCCASION DU QUARANTIÈME ANNIVERSAIRE DE L’ENCYCLIQUE RERUM NOVARUM.
6 J ohn Birch Robinson, The Libertarian Don’t Tread on Me I’m a Good Person even Though I Don’t Care
about the Poor and if you Do You’re a Cuckservative Socialist Manual (New York: Simon & Schuster,
2019), 6.

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“I still don’t get it. What’s a Democrat, a hear the full answer to Anouk’s question.
social justice warrior, a hipster? The liberals Hans is holding a yellow pencil and it’s
and progressives are the libgressives, right?” yellow the yellow pencil it’s yellow it’s col-
ored yellow yellow the pencil is yellow and
Dr. EW DFS nods. “Yes, but can you iden- he can’t yellow stop thinking about the
tify the book’s thesis?” yellow color of the colored yellow yellow
colored school buses galore pencil in his
“To show people how not to be a cuckser- hand it’s yellow and the yellow they are re-
vative,” another student says. ally moving now one after the other in rapid
succession pencil-buses on their way to yel-
“No,” Dr. EW DFS says. “Of course the low-yellow. He breaks free, even if momen-
book is highly critical of those grouped tarily, to raise his hand.
under this term, but look back to the title,
what does that tell you?” “Yes, Hans,” Dr. EW DFS says.

“I don’t understand who Captain Cuck “The book comes from the Time of Trou-
is,” a girl named Anouk says, “or El Cap- bles in America, which I think should in
itan Cucko and The Right Honorable RINO, comparison lead to an immediately pre-Ro-
Cuckison McCuckcircus…is he talking about manov reevaluation, you know what I
rhinoceroses here-“Rhinoceri,” a student mean?” Hans says. “Like that, similar to the
named Jacob says, with his usual self- way a bunch of historians I read claimed that
pleasing affected pretension. Jacob could the Hapsburg era was, and I quote, ‘bathed
be a complete idiot for all anyone knows. in golden light’ compared to what came
He never contributes a productive com- next following the Great War. Then, I’m now
ment to any class discussion save to correct back on topic, then, then in America, in the
people on ridiculous points of speech, as American Time of Troubles, there were only
above (and he’s probably wrong, anyways; two parties, Republicans and Democrats,
and if he’s not wrong then whoever decided and the mass of people had lost faith in
on the ‘plural i’ stuff is a wolfmandumbcl- both. The presidential candidates that ran
awassclown). Otherwise, he says nothing. during the 2016 election highlighted this
Perhaps he is a devotee of Twain’s maxim fracturing, this distaste, even hatred, all the
concerning silence and the removal of more. We all know what followed, ten or fif-
doubt? No, no chance. His self-appointed teen or even twenty years later, depending
classroom corrections officer role removes on one’s parameters, but this book cap-
literally acres of doubt in singular swoops, tured, perhaps as well as any author of the
scoops even, an ice cream shop named I.I.I., time, the very spirit driving all this discon-
as in Idiot Identifier Ice-treats, scooping tent. Not because the argument was con-
up scoop after scoop of the same flavor vincing, rather the exact opposite. This man,
of self-assured righteousness with cotton John Birch Robinson, is certifiably crazy, as
mouthed gagging pretention sprinkled on batshitcrazy-guano as all of his many sup-
top and represented, in nice congruence, porters or people of like mind who thought
by actual sprinkles. being ‘anti-establishment swamp drainer
suckers,’ whatever that actually passed for
“No,” Dr. EW DFS says. “It has nothing to in terms of meaning, was synonymous with
do with animals.” the singular so-called ‘good idea.’ It wasn’t.

Hans has been having a hard time paying
attention today. He zones out and doesn’t

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And this book, nearly all of its six-hundred peace, like he’s standing there even reading
pages, is one incoherent rant after another, War and Peace, and it’s his call on whether
the construction of polemical boogeymen or not to plant the seeds, grow the trees
who are stuffed with straw, the evisceration and harvest the fruit that comes later on?;
of the left and the right, a self-swallowing bring to fruition, see, yeah, just like I said
type of vitriol because when Robinson had so there you go. His thesis, maybe not
finished his polemic the reader was left to even that but how he arrives at this solu-
conclude that, according to him, the only tion, what I said above, is that social pro-
solution to save America, if taken literally, grams have caused the political ruin seen
his prescription, was for every American, all about and all around the country. That’s
every last one of them, to build themselves why the country should disband all type of
a concrete fortified bunker thirty feet down assistance for people and, this is where he
in their backyard, I suppose not much dif- goes even further, people should no longer
ferent from where we are sitting this very give any type of charity from their personal
moment, and stock shelves with non-per- stores; hence his implication in the title that
ishables for the next twenty years or so, if you do care about the poor you’re a cuck-
put firearms down in that hole in every last servative. There’s nothing worse than being
available space, especially beneath pillows a cuckservative, how often does he drive
at nighttime, I mean there’s that one scene this point home, at least a thousand times
where he is literally recommending that across those six-hundred pages? No, just
one designated person of the family be the kidding. I actually counted the times the
‘dropper-offer,’ right? That that person be word ‘cuckerservative’ appears in the text
responsible for standing outside the bunker and it was 814 times. The poor, according
and physically dropping as many guns and to him, are a libgressive, I mean, liberal or
bullets down into the bunker as possible Democratic, ploy, a plot, right? The welfare
with the knowledge that once it was all programs instituted by the left fund the
stuffed full it would be he that would have “pseudohomeless” as he calls them, those
to wade downward through this mess to people who are basically actors, pretending
reach his fellow family now all of them, in- to be homeless and setting up shop in af-
cluding he, buried beneath an avalanche of fluent areas for the purpose of bleeding dry
weaponry. And then, this being completed, the true Patriots, capital P, who can save the
basically, everyone would proceed to curl country; a bleeding the beast type philos-
up in a ball and wait for, for what? The big ophy. Once more, the great irony here is the
bomb? The end of the world? Like, Bright prescription of saving the country by de-
Light 2? I know it hadn’t yet happened scending into an underground bomb shelter
then—Bright Light—not during his lifetime and never seeing the light of day. It’s a tall
and I apologize for the anachronism, but, is order to save a country if you’re no longer in
that what he’s getting at, is that what what it but beneath it, and for good. Seems like all
he wants? Is that what he’d want even if it the real Patriots who would take his words
was his and his design alone to do, I mean to heart, and do as he said, again, literally,
either to initiate or bring to fruition or even, would end up being more like sitting ducks
like I mean, like be the guy in an open fer- harmlessly trapped beneath ground waiting
tile field representing geopolitics and the to be blown sky-higher than Old Faithful by
spider-silk thin balance between war and some foreign or domestic adversary instead

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of his idealized RWBB forces: ‘Red, White, assumed to be myriad defenses against all
and Blue Badass companies number kick angles considered runs at the heart. Yes, be-
ass take names, baby!’7 If I may critique the cause of it, she felt it. She felt—
book, it sucks. It’s, as I said, an unconnected
rant from a semi-partially half-taught hill- with each pronounced word, with each
billy from Nevada, or Florida, which one lowering and raising of his impossibly mascu-
is it? Absolute trash, and yet we read him line voice, with each rise and fall of his chest
because he really did capture the spirit of as he physically produced the foundation for
everything that led to what happened later.” his words—the utter and complete devasta-
tion of each one of her defenses within that
Dr. EW DFS’s mouth is slightly open. Her so thought impenetrable fortress of feminine
lips had been pursed, no more. If one was independence. Boom, boom, boom, the can-
closer to her, really close, one could see nons wouldn’t stop and neither would her
that her pupils are dilated. Her big blue eyes rapidly escalating heartbeat nor the deluge
are a tad watery. It is here, at this moment, of sweat excreting out from her palms
no, actually the moment immediately pre- (sweaty palms! Who am I?). It had happened,
ceding this very moment, sometime during and just like that, and so she was left with
Hans’ late speech, that Emily Williams-Da- nothing but the plain truth: she would for-
vis-Fontenot Stevenson felt it happen. For ever and for all times be his or be nothing
the first time in her still young life, she felt it. at all. To imagine life without him was to
Womondofemyism be damned, that’s what contemplate the uncomtemplatable: pure
it felt like. (Although, not really, not really non-existence. And by that not just the hu-
“be damned” because she was likely going to manely incomprehensible task of wrapping
be a 10+ womondofemy for the duration of one’s mind around the immediate pre-Big
her life no matter how many times it might Bang supposed reality of nothing but deeper
hit her square between the eyes, even if into the foundations for even this, meaning
the repeated hits were from the one now The Nothingness genuflected before the Un-
simply to be henceforth—yes in the full moved Mover. Life without him, Hans, would
flower of desormais [no other sound could be an illogical fallacy, for her, a contraction of
or would do]—called ‘him’). It was like this: the simplest reason, a contraction of sense
she knew, she had known for quite some into nonsense into an explosion of inverted
time now, that she was an impenetrable silence: just pure Nothingness. And as that
fortress of solitary progressiveness. She did was not nor could not ever be by the virtue
not nor would not ever need a man. It re- of the very Be being causing all else to con-
ally was that simple. But then Hans started tingently be, so too could she not imagine
speaking—this being the it, the full mo- any further thoughts without him at the
ment of the ongoing assault still crashing center. Drenched in, and frantically trying to
like waves against her inner self— and little recover from, this dual part thunderstorm
did she suspect that his words were cannon and swamp that had just besieged her (very
balls, more accurately intercontinental bal- much in the fashion of a duck swimming, all
listic missiles, aimed bullseye at each and calm above the surface while a tempest of
every one of her (up to this very point) kicking feet rages underwater) Dr. EW DFS

7 Robinson, The Libertarian Don’t Tread on Me…, ix, 1, 565, 598.
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takes her left hand and flips her hair back “Hans…,” she repeats, now looking at him
and across her face a few times. with the anticipation of a schoolgirl at the
junior high Fall Harvest dance about to be
Womondofemy that she is there is still asked to slow dance by the Harvest King,
something about the way a ma—, a sub- a gangly boy with a lot of potential to be
terranean, can put together an intellectual downright strapping in the future who is
argument and lay it out for her, as if she was presently the Junior High starting QB. JHQB
a late teenage girl soon to be twenty yet still is the butt of a lot of jokes, presently. Girls
so young, 19.98 years old, still very much find him awkward and even ugly; yes, ugly,
coming into the wisdom of the world, sitting the objective handsomeness of his facial
at his feet sipping a coke held by puerile fin- features totally obscured by his pathetic
gers on a hot summer day in rural Georgia, full face blushing when speaking to girls;
that just drives her absolutely bat-wild. But and his awful wardrobe choices (tank tops
this? This has caught her completely off- worn over the top of T-shirts) Guys rib him
guard. It is bat-wildness skimmed of all its in ways too quotidian to even mention. But
anhydrous milk fat, reduced to its purest they hate him because he can throw a foot-
form and then set on fire, gasoline dumped ball fifty yards (and as a spiral, not some
onto that fire, and then an endless supply of kind of flailing, thrown to the wind duck
dry twigs and such tossed carelessly on top even lame-duck candidate faux-imitation
until the flames are licking the sky. of a real pass) already. Schoolgirl Emily is
the only one onto the treasure before her
“Yes, that’s,” she says before pausing to eyes. She needs to lock him down, and now.
exhale. She exhales. She clears her throat. Fast. Before JHQB becomes the no longer
“That’s perfect. That’s it.” She gets off the awkward in anyway HSQB onto the college
desk and sits down. “Okay, next question. ranks with perfect jawline (and now really
Why are we reading this book? Not just be- cool clothes) and soon to be strawberry
cause of the way the author, like Hans said, fields of potential suitors. She needs to
captured the zeitgeist of that time. Why brand that boy now. (I saw him first!). It is
here, in the class?” precisely with this regard, conveying pre-
cisely these things, that Dr. EW DFS looks at
“Because of what happened later,” Robert Hans and says,
says, “just what Hans said.”
“Could, you, um, explain, please?” now
“That’s why the book’s important,” Dr. EW all but begging, waiting, just for one word
DFS says, in a perfectly non-condescending of his to put her out of her misery.
tone directed at a useless answer. “Why are
you reading it here, in Year Four CCCP?” “Robinson,” Hans begins, (Dr. EW DFS lets
out a soft sigh, then starts whistling some-
No one says anything. Yellow pencil back thing to herself in a very low voice near inau-
to the yellow the yellow pencil the school dibility), “lays out his plan for getting people
buses covered in mushed up bananas pencil to overthrow the government. Overthrow
is yellow. the government and you bring down the
whole system. No more psuedohomeless
“Because of page two-hundred and ten,” people to steal the Patriots’ money, that
Hans blurts out kind of thing. His plan is economics based,

“Yes, Hans…,” she says, her voice soft and
enceinte with expectation.

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fits into our reading list nicely that way, this Dr. EW DFS takes a piece of chalk to the
class nicely in that way, and of course the blackboard. “Let’s get this down pat, guys.
whole point of our school, the final project, Plato’s Republic. Many of you are familiar
in that way.” with it, some not, but Hans is right, it’s inte-
gral to Robinson’s argument and especially
“Yes,” she says, unable to hide her smile. pertinent to what we do here.”
“Go on.”
“I’m not familiar with it myself,” Hans
“His plan calls for a reversal of the passion says, “it’s just what he, the author, talked
management in Plato’s Republic. He specifi- about it and so that’s why I mentioned it.”
cally mentions Plato and that book, The Re-
public. Set the appetite free and there will be “Good. Perfect time for us to cover it
social chaos. In his mind the appetites must then. Shall we?”
be focused on the accumulation of as much
hard currency as possible and, crucially, by She sketches a diagram on the board—
whatever means necessary with the end goal Intellect-Will-Appetite in descending order
being complete bank failure, a huge crash beneath a heading entitled Soul and, next
and depression, and then his lot riding in to to it, Guardians-Policing Force-the Masses
save the day by picking up the pieces and re- in descending order beneath Society—and
constructing society along the ‘proper lines’.” then tosses the chalk back onto the tray.
She sits down cross-legged on the right
“And how does it fit into our larger, uni- corner of the desk once more.
versity-wide goals?” she says, now back on
the desk, pink spandex crossed over pink “Anyone want to take a shot at explaining
spandex. this?”

“It fits into our class in an analogous A student named Leonard speaks up.
fashion. We should try to implement Rob- “Plato believed that the human soul was tri-
inson’s techniques in the sale of our final partite. If there was order in the soul there
project. Try to attune the disordered appe- would be order in society, in the republic.
tites of our potential clients not onto hard Order in the soul would come from the in-
currency-depression, but onto our work. tellect, the highest part, ruling the will that
Instill in them, by whatever means as he in turn would rule the appetites, or the pas-
says, an uncontrollable desire to purchase sions, the lowest and most unruly parts. The
our product. If it can sell, it’ll do well, you comparison to society is exact: order comes
know; that.” from the leaders on top, the guardians, di-
recting the laws of the state which are en-
Dr. EW DFS starts clapping. She stands forced by the police or policing force, i.e.
up and keeps doing so. Half-hearted ap- something like or even just simply: an Army,
plause from the students follows. A few of who then control the largest segment of
the brownnosers up front look mad, even society, which also happens to be the most
enraged, with jealousy; a very interesting uncouth and prone to chaos: the masses.”
color coordination of the brown from their
noses and a deep green (envy, but that “Excellent,” Dr. EW DFS says. “Very good.
should be obvious) in the surrounding room That’s exactly it. I’ll give you a quick example.
palate and, especially, the arrangement of Your appetite, your passions, might desire
the tiles-plafond relative to the plancher. a particular object,” she unconsciously

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looks at Hans, stares at him a bit too long, and intellect, to be governed from the usu-
although no one, especially Hans, notices ally disastrous bottom-up perspective, and
(but she is staring so much so intently that it then in turn have a society governed from
might just cross-over into ‘fixating’ on him), the same bottom-up perspective, a society
“and if these go unchecked the passions will gone crazy, a society soon destroyed, and by
lead to ruin. Set seven pizzas in front of a dog itself, and then his guys come in for the New
and see what happens. The dog is driven by World Order. Right? And we’re supposed to
instinct alone. No reason, no discernment. take this small lesson about appetites and
Yes, he may eat a few slices and feel full get our potential customers to desire our
and obey this particular instinct, fine. But product in this same deranged way, even if
there is no thought process: I may get sick it brings them to ruin. To get them to be
if I eat too much, this may make me gain like the Fandom people we learned about
unhealthy weight. And so it’s possible that last year.”
the dog will eat as much pizza as he can be-
fore blacking out or vomiting uncontrollably, “Perfect,” Dr. EW DFS, genuinely happy.
there’s no restraint. Imagine a person with The class has gotten the day’s message, un-
an ice cream addiction. How is this properly derstood the book in question and what
ordered? It’s the intellect that says one cup was supposed to be learned. She is truly
per day is plenty, or stop! That’s enough! happy. “I know it’s twenty minutes early,
You’ll feel sick to the will which then in turn, but you are free to go. Make sure you check
police force that it is, brings the muscle to the syll—
bear on the uncontrollable appetite: STOP,
and so it does. This will is neither positive “Like this?” Hans says, from the back
nor negative. It simply is, it does. It does the of the room. “Appetites gone haywire like
bidding of the intellect, that’s it. And so you this? Dogs and seven pizzas? Mindmelting
see everything depends upon the first chain idiocy, up from the rabble rises even but
in the link. Healthy intellect, strong will, pas- a puffed flume of the insatiable desire
sions controlled, good life. But an error in burning within, it rises high and silent like
the intellect? An error in the beginning is thunderheads on the horizon; gathering;
an error indeed.” planning; conspiring and calculating. Yeah?
Like that, yeah? Like this?”
“Oh,” Robert says, the light bulb flick-
ering on. “Okay, I see. So the whole point Hans is standing at the back of the room
of Robinson’s book was to make the people near a tiny refrigerator. His hand is on the
he doesn’t like live a reverse version of this, handle. Inside is high-density8 mint-choco-
have the appetites control both the will late chip ice cream, kept in this room for the
simple fact of color congruity. High-density,

8 N utrition facts for one serving size of ESSNWNAU-AL Alpine Green Mint Chocolate chip ice cream.
 ss. ½ cup (2.3 oz): 2,400 cal/1,770 cal. from fat.
 Total fat 196g
 Sat. fat147g
 Cholesterol2g
 Sodium 3g
 Sugars 300g
 Protein 112g

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experimental ice cream to be used only in straight out of Nietzsche’s wildest delirium
cases of extreme weight gain necessity.9 and early Autumnal nightmares. She now
And then only under strict medical super- bawls dueling tears of joy and sorrow, tears
vision. Hans unlocks the refrigerator door of pure gratitude that perhaps she could
and removes a large, silver spoon from its finally drop this whole charade and just
case. The class gasps. Dr. EW DFS makes a be his in toto while, simultaneously, shot
start for him but stops. Hans pulls out the through with an existential dread ripped
ice cream container and places it on top of from the pages of The Sickness Unto Death
the refrigerator. More gasps. because, but how could he want her? It
wasn’t a question of worthiness. She knew
“Hans,” Dr. EW DFS says. “Please. Put she was not. What womondofemy could
down the spoon.” ever be, worthy? She wasn’t even sure that
any woman, any woman full stop no fur-
“Don’t do it, Hans!” a girl in the class yells. ther qualification(s) needed, could ever be
worthy of that rare specimen.
Hans winks at the girl and blows a kiss
off his fingertips in her direction. It’s a direct But so what actually happened?
hit to the heart. She faints and falls to the
floor. Five bites in, Hans’ eyes blink rapidly and
he passes out. Not a slumping down slowly
“Hans, please,” another student says. to the floor. Eyes twitch, shoulders droop,
and he hits the ground with a thud. The
“Like this?” Hans says, one more time, spoon clatters to the floor milliseconds later.
unscrewing the ice cream container and
plunging the spoon to the bottom. He
starts attacking the ice cream, heaving in
mouthful after mouthful. Since nobody can
do anything now, they watch. It’s too much
for Dr. EW DFS. She turns her head from the
scene and begins to weep. It’s too beautiful
for her to watch, such courage, such impos-
sible self-awareness and the willingness to
go where other men tremble to even place
testing toes into the water. Finally, out of
the vast desert of post-postmodernity (I
mean, who’s counting now…‘posts,’ and,
by the way, when does it reset to zero, any-
ways? a la Florentine Histories), a man. Hans
Mikloff is not nor has ever been, even for a
day in his life, a subterranean, she thinks.
He is a man, she silently, internally, declares
through muffled cries and tears mysteri-
ously joyful and sorrowful yet luminously
glorious all the same. Hans: an ubermensch

9 A n ESSNWNAU-AL BPA who had professional tennis talent but was extremely thin—126 lbs. on a
6’2 frame—used ESSNWNAU-AL Alpine Green Mint Chocolate chip to gain 59 lbs. in three months.

23

BAR THE DOOR

by Carolyn R. Russell

I received the emailed query just before my in 12 pt. Times New Roman. I took a long
nightly rounds: lock up the front door, turn off cold swallow of my IPA and settled in; Grace
the house lights, check the thermostat, bar was already in bed and probably asleep by
the rear slider door with a reassuring chunk now. My plan was to knock off a quick re-
of wood. Those things never happened. write and charge double for the speedy
turnaround.
I don’t usually receive emergency re-
quests. I coach college application essay I began to read.
writing to supplement my meagre teacher’s
salary. My clients are generally a self-se- Two hours later my hands were still shaking.
lecting bunch, either super-achievers who
want to get ahead of their own meticu- This Chris person had written what he
lously scheduled deadlines, or slow-starters called a personal essay on the topic of
whose parents contact me early in the overcoming adversity for a hardship schol-
season because they know what their kids arship to a mid-tier private university. At
are up against. But that’s exactly what the first glance, it appeared to adhere to the
subject line was, the words emergency and classic five-paragraph format, just too long.
request capitalized. The body of the email The opening lines were good. Or, maybe
was in an annoyingly screamy font, Show- they just mirrored my own preference for
card Gothic, or maybe Rockwell Extra Bold. starting with an eventful recollection, in
the middle of something action-heavy, or
The missive was surprisingly well-written exciting, written in the present tense. Typ-
for a high school student. That should have ically, then, the writer goes back in time to
been my first clue. Instead, my takeaway set up the first section. The piece ends with
was typically self-serving, that the gig was an interpretation of the meaning they have
going to be an easy $65 an hour. The cover ascribed to their chosen subject matter and
letter indicated that someone named Chris the impact it’s had on them.
Patterson had been given my name by a high
school classmate, and that they needed Chris’ essay starts in the middle of a
quick help to turn around a time-sensitive memory. He’s in grade school, and the class is
application. working on family tree projects. His teacher
leans in over his shoulder and asks why he’s
I poured myself a beer and opened the at- drawn a picture of SpongeBob SquarePants
tachment. Thankfully, it was double-spaced, where his dad should be. Tears. Phone calls.
Little Chris is finished for the day.

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The essay progresses as one might ex- things. Lilly was a senior, only a couple of
pect, except for two things. Two big things. years younger than I was. Her hero-worship
The first is that the writing is terrific. This got me through the worst of my self-doubt.
kid does not need my help. The second is And she was pretty, so pretty. We crossed
that the story he tells is chock-full of unex- the line only once, and parted friends.
pected details, details that make my head
spin. Like where his mother went to college, I did the math. I sat for a while.
and when, and what she studied, and with
whom. Her first name. I went up to check on Grace. She’d fallen
asleep on top of her book, and I removed
I remembered her. I was barely out of the hardcover from under her elbow and
graduate school, glad to be in a position put it on the nightstand. The adjustment
where I could finally call myself gainfully woke her up. She turned over on her back
employed. I was also horribly insecure, and and said my name, the moonlight throwing
yet still somehow entertaining the idea that sparks off her wedding ring as she pulled
the non-tenure track adjunct professorship the covers up over her shoulders. Then she
was beneath me. I was meant for better was gone again.

About the Author

Carolyn R. Russell is the author of The Films of Joel and Ethan Coen, published by McFarland
& Company in 2001. Her humorous YA mystery, Same As It Never Was, was released in 2018
by Big Table. Carolyn’s new YA dystopian thriller, In the Fullness of Time, was published by
Vine Leaves Press in March of 2020. Other works include essays and stories for The Boston
Globe, Dime Show Review, Bridge Eight, Wanderlust Journal, and Medusa’s Laugh. She holds
an M.A. in Film Studies from Chapman University, and has taught on the college, high school,
and middle school levels. Carolyn lives north of Boston with her husband and two children.

25

SCIENCE PROJECT
JOURNAL

by Robert Dukelow

Results of a Giant Sequoia Gene Spliced to a Lima Bean Plant

Introduction he was teasing me about me finding the
cure for the common cold or AIDS.
Mr. Johannsen, our science teacher, told
us if we wanted to earn an A+ this year we 22 Sep 1987: I talked to Vernon and
needed an unusual science project for our asked him when his brother, Aaron, would
10th grade biology class. He did not want be home next. Aaron will come home at
any more complaints from parents about Thanksgiving. I asked Vernon if he planned
animal abuse or research papers for or to visit Aaron before then and he said his
against evolution. He wanted a politically family would see him next weekend. Ver-
neutral project which showed we under- non’s dad, Dr. Madden, needed to go to St.
stood how we could observe and perhaps Louis. I asked Vernon to talk to Aaron about
influence a change in nature. We could get helping me with my science project.
any help we wanted. We had to keep an ex-
act journal of our projects from concept to 12 Oct: Vernon talked to Aaron. Aaron
finish. All the projects had to be discussed thought my project was crazy. He will not
with him and approved before we started. help me. I told Mr. Johannsen I needed to
My friend, Vernon has a brother who is go- change my project. He laughed and said
ing to be a genetic plant scientist. I asked not to give up yet because I had not even
Mr. Johannsen if I could try to cross a lima started. He told me all great scientists face
bean with a sequoia tree and grow a new initial opposition.
super plant. Mr. Johannsen laughed and
said, “Sure, go ahead and try. Keep good 15 Oct: I talked to my Grandfather Golden
notes and while you are at it, try to find the about my project. He has bred seeds for his
cure for the common cold or AIDS.” I think garden for many years and developed some
fast growing, giant lima beans. He tried to
sell the bean seeds, but the beans taste

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super nasty. He wants to breed a good bean 17 Jan 1988: I talked to Mr. Johannsen
flavor into them and keep the rapid growth. and told him I needed to change my project
He said he was sure a sequoia gene will not because it was not working. He said if I
work in a bean plant, but he gave me some was keeping careful notes, even an unsuc-
of his best bean seeds to use for my project. cessful project would be beneficial because
it would show what did not work. He teased
17 Oct: I talked to Vernon again and me again about my research to try to find
asked if he would please ask Aaron to try to the cure for the common cold or AIDS. I told
splice a sequoia gene onto one of my bean him that was his joke and it never was part
seeds. I really don’t know how this works of my project. I think he is being mean.
and still need to do the library research on
gene splicing. Where can I find a sequoia 22 Jan: Vernon told me Aaron called and
gene. the sequoia seeds sprouted. He had made
the splice.
18 Oct: Vernon talked to Aaron on the
phone and he said if I give him my bean 23 Jan: I called Aaron and asked if I could
seeds and some sequoia seeds, he will try come to see how the splice was made so
to splice the genes. He is tired of working I could write it into my journal. He said I
with soybeans. He said he will help me even could.
though he thinks my project is completely
crazy. 26 Jan: Grandfather Golden drove me
to St. Louis. We went to the new science
22 Oct: Grandfather Golden found he building at Washington University where
can get me some sequoia seeds from a Aaron is a graduate assistant. He spliced a
friend in California. sequoia gene onto a lima bean gene. His
plant was growing in a little plastic flow-
25 Nov: Aaron came home for Thanks- erpot. He showed me all his equipment,
giving. I don’t have any sequoia seeds yet, but it is too complicated to describe in this
but I gave him five of grandfather’s lima notebook. He said genetic engineering is a
bean seeds. complicated process and is not suitable to
be used as a high school science project.
10 Dec: Grandfather received a Christmas
card from his friend in California with six I asked Aaron if there was someone
tiny sequoia seeds in it. doing research to cure the common cold or
AIDS in his laboratory. He introduced me to
22 Dec: Aaron came home for Christmas his friend, Maureen Summers, who is going
and I gave him the sequoia seeds. He had al- to be a doctor. She is working on five dif-
ready sprouted two of grandfather’s seeds ferent AIDS research experiments. I asked
and said the plants had some interesting her if her projects could help me in any way.
genetic qualities. I asked if there was any She said she did not think so but was open
way this could help research to find a cure to any suggestion. I said if the lima bean and
for the common cold or AIDS. He said I was sequoia gene splice worked, I would grow
totally crazy. a super plant. If she could give it the resis-
tance of the AIDS virus, it may be immune to
15 Jan: I called Aaron and he said the se- common plant disease and it may help find
quoia seeds had not sprouted so he did not a cure for the common cold and AIDS. She
know if he could splice a gene from them
onto the beans.

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laughed and said this was not possible but for one that the people had been sharing for
agreed to let me look at her experiments some time. The people were unfriendly but
as long as I did not touch anything. She when I explained it was for a science project
warned me that AIDS research is a deadly which may help them, they agreed to trade.
matter and not suitable for a high school This was a scary event and I will never do
science project. She would not let me have this again alone. I took the needle to the
any AIDS material to use in my project. green house and carefully poked it through
the base of the bean plant. My plant is 25
27 Jan: I took the genetically spliced cm (10 inches) high and has 14 leaves.
bean plant home. Grandfather told me it
was much too early to be sprouting and it 5 Feb: I think I may have killed the plant.
would die before I could plant it outside. It looks terrible. Grandfather says putting
I asked him if I could keep it in his green the needle in the base was a bad thing to
house until it was safe to plant outside. He do and it will probably not be able to re-
agreed as long as I took care of it. When I cover. He gave it some compost, fish emul-
brought it home my bean plant was 10 cm sion, and manure tea to help it recover. The
high and had four leaves. I repotted it into plant has shrunk down to 14 cm (5.5 inches)
a five-gallon plastic bucket of compost and high and now has only 8 brown leaves. It
potting soil. I gave it 1.5 liters (1.6 quarts) looks almost dead.
of water.
6 Feb: The plant is no worse but also no
2 Feb: It looks like Spring will come early better.
this year according to the radio. The bean
plant is now 22 cm (8.7 inches) high and has 7 Feb: The plant is trying to recover. It
12 leaves. Mr. Johannsen asked me how my has straightened out some and is now 20
AIDS research project was coming today. I cm (8 inches) high, still has its 8 leaves and
told him I was still trying to overcome some is turning green again.
obstacles to this aspect of my project. He
said the drug abusers will appreciate my ef- 8 Feb: It looks like the plant is going to
forts the day I find an AIDS cure. recover. It is back to 25 cm (10 in) high and
has started to put out new leaves.
3 Feb: I know Mr. Johannsen doesn’t be-
lieve my project will work but just to show 14 Feb: The plant is growing nicely again.
him I am determined, I will find out some- It is 38 cm (15 in) high and has 16 leaves.
thing about the AIDS virus. I asked Vernon
if he would go with me to a place where I 22 Feb: The plant is 45 cm (18 in) high
learned from the newspaper stories there and has 27 leaves. Grandfather warned me
are drug abusers who share needles. I want not to try any more needle experiments on
to see if I can get an AIDS infected needle the plant because it may not recover again.
to use in my project. Vernon said I was ab- I think I am smart enough to know that my-
solutely crazy, and he won’t go. He did get self.
me a new needle from his father’s medical
supply cabinet to trade for an infected one. 5 Mar: The plant is 85 cm (333.5in) high
and has too many leaves to count. Grand-
4 Feb: I went to a certain house in the father says it needs a bigger container be-
city and asked if I could trade a new needle cause roots are showing all around the
edges of the plastic bucket. Mr. Johannsen
says he wants us to bring our projects to

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class next week. He will select the best for plant. It is over 350 cm (11.5 feet) tall and
the science fair. has spread out along the fence. The pony
does not like the taste of the plant and will
12 Mar: Mr. Johannsen looked at my not eat the leaves. I am just going to mea-
bean plant growing in the five-gallon bucket. sure the base circumference instead of the
He said mine was the worst high school sci- height from now on because I cannot reach
ence project he had ever seen. He did not the top without getting a taller ladder. My
believe my bean plant had a sequoia gene stepfather says that if the plant gets much
spliced into it and he did not believe me bigger, he will cut it down because it is so
about the drug needle experiment on the ugly. It has little
plant. He wants me to change my project
to a demonstration of light on the bean -
plant leaves. I am supposed to cut off all
the light to the leaves and make a record brown and purple spots on all its leaves
of how quickly my plant dies. No way am I and it drips sap. I hope he will let me keep
doing that. I am determined to succeed as it until school is out. Mr. Johannsen is mad
originally planned. at me because I won’t do his no light on the
leaves project to kill my plant. I told him it
1 Apr: The plant is now 223 cm (7’4”) was much too big to take to the science fair
high and Grandfather says it must leave now anyway.
the green house shelf because it is pushing
on the roof and too big to keep inside. If it 14 Apr: The plant is 22 cm (8.6 in) around
frosts, we will cover it with a tarp and use the base. It looks tremendous. Grandfather
a heater to keep it alive. I asked my stepfa- says it is the biggest bean plant he has ever
ther, Herman, if I can put my bean plant in seen. The neighbors with the pony are
our yard. He agreed if I plant it in a sunny complaining because the plant is growing
spot near the back-yard fence and take care through the fence into their stable. I asked
of it myself. Grandfather agrees that this is them to be patient just a few more days be-
a good plan because our neighbors have a cause I need to complete my project. They
pony and the plant can use the nutrients agreed.
its roots can take from under the fence. We
planted the bean outside at 6:30 PM. The 21 Apr: The plant is 45 cm (17.7 in)
pony wants to eat it through the fence, so around the base. It has doubled in size in
we put a piece of plywood between the one week. Herman, my stepfather, says he
plant and the fence. The bucket was full of has never seen a plant grow so fast. Vernon
roots and the plant is much harder than a brought Aaron over to see it. Aaron snipped
normal bean plant, more like the wood in a off some leaves and took pictures to show
tree. The sequoia splice seems to be having his professor. Aaron and Maureen are en-
some effect. Mr. Johnson says I should have gaged. She came to see the plant too. I told
planted a control bean to show the differ- her about the AIDS needle experiment. She
ence between a normal bean and this one, just laughed at me and said I was crazy.
but anyone can tell this is going to be a
super big bean plant. 28 Apr: The bean plant was on our local
TV News tonight. The base is 105 cm (41.3 in)
7 Apr: The plant is really growing now. I around. It is about 15 meters high (I had to
used our ten-foot-tall ladder to measure the explain to the TV reporter that is 49 feet be-
cause he said no one in America understood

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

meters.) There are hundreds of bean pods meters (81 feet) high. Herman asked some
on the plant, but they are not yet filled. Mr. people from the county to come and cut
Johannsen was also on TV explaining to the down the bean plant. Two workers came
reporters how he guided me through all and hacked off some branches and tried
phases of this experiment and how I was to cut it down. Their chain saws broke, and
his “A+” student. Herman said we need to their axes seemed to just bounce off the
cut the bean plant down now. He will not base. The lawn and flowers around the
wait until the beans are ripe. The plant is bean plant are dying.
much too big to move out of the yard. It has
pushed a big dent into the pony’s fence. 5 May: Aaron came with his professor
and ten other people to see the plant. They
29 Apr: Herman got his chain saw out to- want to get some seeds from it. Herman
night and tried to cut down the bean plant. says it will be gone before the seeds ma-
The saw got stuck half-way in and the chain ture. They offer to pay him $1,000 to keep
broke. Herman said he would finish the job it until the seeds mature. Herman says they
tomorrow. would have to pay at least $2,000 and they
agree. Herman says he should have asked
30 Apr: The bean plant healed itself for $10,000 because they want the seeds
from the chain saw cut overnight. It sent so bad.
out many new sprouts from the cut scar.
Herman could not get the chain saw fixed 6 May: My mother explained to the
but said tomorrow it would have to go. neighbors about getting money to keep
the plant and they say they deserve half.
1 May: This may be the final entry in my Herman got mad and says he will give them
journal. The bean plant is 125 cm (49 in) nothing. They are going to sue us over the
around the base and about 20 meters (65 plant. Grandfather suggests I should not
feet) high. Herman has rented a big chain get involved anymore because it appears
saw and is determined to cut down the Herman now has taken ownership of the
plant. I’ve grown so attached to this plant it bean plant and it will only cause him trouble.
makes me sort of sad to kill it.
8 May: The TV News came to our house
2 May: The rented chain saw broke also. again because the bean plant roots have
Super strong fibers from the plant tangled pushed out into the street and broken into
up in the chain and stopped it. Herman the utility pipes. This caused a power failure
said it was like cutting into a bundle of wet and no water in our neighborhood for two
fiber glass. The bean plant wants to live. A days. The city is going to sue us if we don’t
man from the county came and said our get rid of the plant. Herman called the uni-
neighbors have complained because of the versity and told them they will have to pay
damage to their pony fence. We explained a lot more if they want to keep the plant
we were trying to remove the plant. My until its seeds mature because it is causing
mother baked some cookies for the people a lot of trouble. They agree to pay $25,000.
with the pony and apologized for this Herman thinks he should have asked for
problem. I wonder what will happen if the more because they agreed too quickly.
plant cannot be killed and keeps growing?
9 May: Some Japanese scientist came to
4 May: The plant is now 137 cm (54 in) look at the plant. Herman won’t let them
around the base and seems to be about 25

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touch it or clip any samples. It is now 257 the plant. They then poured the chemical
cm (8.4 feet) around the base and about 40 into the holes. It was kind of sad. The TV
meters (130 feet) high. Herman has offered News wanted to film it but they would not
to pay the neighbors $10,000 for the prob- pay Herman the $5,000 he wanted so we
lems caused by the plant. videotaped it.

23 May: Mr. Johannsen gave me an A 8 Jun: Herbicides cannot kill the super
in biology. He asked me about the AIDS bean! There are all sorts of sprouts coming
needle. I told him what I said before, but out of the scars left by the drill holes. The
he still does not believe me. School is out neighbors took away their pony during the
tomorrow. Grandfather and I are going night. It was sick.
fishing for a week. He says my project is
completely out of hand because Herman is 9 Jun: The sheriff issued us a court order
now charging people $20 dollars just come to get rid of the plant in the next three days
into the yard to examine the plant. Herman or pay $10,000 per day in fines for keeping
told the university it will now cost them a dangerous public nuisance. Herman said
$250,000 to harvest the beans. He has hired he wanted nothing more than to get rid of
a security guard company to watch the yard the plant, but he could not kill it and asked
at night to keep other people away. the county to please help him.

6 Jun: The plant is enormous. It really 10 Jun: The CNN TV news came to film
grew in hot weather. The sequoia gene and the county men try to kill the plant. They
whatever was on that needle has given it dug around the base and chopped at the
superpower. It is now 442 cm (14.5 feet) roots. They sent some men up in a tall cherry
around the base and about 80 meters (260 picker on a truck to cut off branches. A fire
feet) high. Unfortunately, it lifted the side truck came and used its tallest ladder to
of our house with its roots. The beans pods send a man up to cut off the high branches.
are hard and almost ready to harvest. Five He cut many branches but not enough to
guards are watching the plant every minute really matter. The bean plant keeps growing.
now. Mr. Johannsen was on the Geraldo
show on TV to talk about the plant. He said 11 Jun: The CNN TV news reported to-
it was all his idea. Mother would not let me night that the university had discovered
go on the show or even talk to the reporters. that the beans they harvested contained
Grandfather says we should leave town elements of the AIDS virus. Our neighbors
because there is going to be trouble, but I want to sue us again because they claim the
want to see what happens next. plant made their pony sick. Herman paid
them $50,000 for the sick pony. Our house
7 Jun: Thirteen people from the univer- is beginning to tip over because the roots
sity came today and picked as many beans are pushing up the foundation. The plant is
as they could. They had a whole pickup 691 cm (22.7 feet) around the base and over
truck full. Since chain saws don’t seem to 100 meters ((325 feet) high.
be able to cut down the plant, Herman is
going to kill it with poison. He bought sev- 12 Jun: Three U.S. Marshals came today
eral gallons of the most potent kind of her- and ordered us to remove the plant be-
bicide. He had some men come with a big cause it was a hazard to commercial aircraft.
power drill and bore holes into the base of In the meantime, we must put a flashing
red light on the top. Herman said he had

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

tried everything he could to remove the Aaron has gone to Europe on a long va-
plant and failed. He asked the federal gov- cation. The University says Aaron grew a
ernment to help. An Army helicopter came second bean plant which he also spliced
and put a big red flashing light with a solar with the sequoia gene the same time as
powered battery pack on top of the plant. mine and today it is only 20 feet high. They
claim the difference between that plant and
13 Jun: Five U.S. Department of Agri- my bean must have been my AIDS needle ex-
culture scientist and six doctors from the periment that gave my plant super powers.
public health service came to examine the
plant and decide how to kill it. Aaron says he hopes cold weather will
kill the plant because they have not been
15 Jun: The National Guard sent about able to kill any of the beans they sprouted
20 soldiers with all sorts of equipment to kill except by grinding them up and putting
the plant. They dug holes around the base them in a furnace and burning the pieces
and put in high explosives. Then they set to ashes. If they pull out a newly sprouted
them off the explosives. It made big clouds bean from a seed taken from my plant it re-
of dirt and destroyed what was left of our fuses to die even if it is dried out or cut up.
back lawn. The plant shook but it did not Once it gets into soil again it continues to
tip over or die. grow. It has taken on the unstoppable char-
acteristics of the AIDS virus.
16 Jun: There are hundreds of new bean
shoots coming out of the holes left by the 4 Jul: We must move away from here.
explosives yesterday. The soldiers shot at The plant ruined most of our neighborhood
the plant with flame throwers but other houses. It killed all the plants and trees.
than burning off the shoots and some There have been so many people from all
leaves it did not seem to hurt the plant. In different agencies working on trying to
fact, where the plant was burnt, it is now kill the bean plant we could not live in our
growing faster today than ever. They did house anyway. The last time I was allowed
burn down the fence and the pony’s stable. to measure it, the circumference of the
base was 723 cm (23.7 feet) and it was at
17 Jun: Apparently the bean plant is least 120 meters (390 feet) high. Herman
sucking all the water and nutrients out of says the Army is considering a small ther-
the soil in our neighborhood. Everyone’s mo-nuclear blast to try to kill the plant. Our
plants are dying in their yards and their neighborhood has been declared a state
lawns are drying up even though we have disaster area. Grandfather, Mom and I are
had enough rain to keep the ground water moving to California. Herman will stay here.
level up to normal. Mr. Johannsen has been He says the plant is his and he intends to
charged with creating a public nuisance. He make more money from it as long as it lives.
now says the bean plant was not his fault
and blamed it all on Aaron.

32

PLEASANTNESS

by Peter Able

I took my wife out on the town. It was the I said, “This crowd is a step above, isn’t
same old town but a new restaurant we it? I’m not sure I belong.”
hadn’t been to before. An experience that I
hoped would slightly expand our relatively Then, “It’s really jumping. Word must be
small little world. It seemed I at least could out on this place.”
use such expansion. Upon arrival we va-
leted the Volkswagen at the curb. My wife said nothing. She didn’t say
much these days. Not to me at least. She
The four large paintings in the main room merely arched a dark eyebrow my way be-
were impressionistic bordering on the ab- fore looking back down at her menu.
stract. At a glance I couldn’t really tell what
they were supposed to be, though they were I looked over at her pale, flat, smooth,
clearly supposed to be something. I thought blank forehead and imagined I could read
maybe people in funny poses in funny places, her thoughts there. I knew I wasn’t psychic,
or, on second glance, maybe just animals in but, in addition to the insight that comes
the wild, depicted with unusual colors. with twenty-four years of marriage, I had
some fresh insider information. And what a
After we were seated, the waiter, a juicy little tidbit it was.
confident young man with scruffy black
hair and scruffy black facial hair, took our My wife was having an affair. It wasn’t
drink orders. My wife ordered wine and I, exactly a state secret. Although we hadn’t
for health reasons, ordered sparkling water. discussed it openly, she knew I knew she
My doctor had me under strict orders. And was having an affair. I myself had been
I had gotten to an age where I listened to trying to have an affair of my own ever
everything doctors had to say. since I found out, but so far had been un-
successful. It seemed some of my general
I tried some pleasant chit chat and likability had worn off during the interim
my wife smiled at my efforts, smiled with of my married years. Evidently it had done
her eyes over the tall black leather-bound so while I wasn’t paying close attention. It
menu that otherwise blocked her face from came as something of a shock.
my view. Indeed, though her eyes were
smiling, her mouth may very well have been I took a look around. I noticed the wood
frowning flat out. Because of the menu floors were so dark they almost looked black.
there was no way of knowing. Indeed, I had to stoop down close to the
floor to see that it was wood, and not some

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kind of marble or tile. My wife seemed to been young and fresh and, no doubt,
consider asking me what I was doing with healthy as could be.
my face down so close to the floor and then,
deciding against it, went back to buttering While we waited I made more pleasant
her bread. chit chat. Or at least, I did my best.

The confident waiter, confidently put our I said, “It’s a pretty nice place. I could see
drinks down in front of us then scratched at coming back sometime.”
his scruffy facial hair, smiling. If his wife was
cheating on him and he wanted to have an Then, “The decor isn’t great, but there’s
affair he would not have to try so hard, I a lot of space.”
thought. He probably could sleep with half
of the wait staff at the drop of a hat. Some- My wife didn’t use her words to say
thing told me he probably already had. anything with her mouth. Nothing audible
anyway.
“Have you decided?” he asked, smiling
at my much-older, but still-very-attractive, She drank her wine and smiled sort of
smiling wife. She asked him a question abstractly. Most of the time she was looking
about the filet mignon, which I felt I could around the room rather than at me. I felt
have answered myself. The filet mignon was somewhat ridiculous, sitting there with
a lot like filet mignon. Case closed. I wasn’t my paunch, thinning hair and beautiful,
completely sure, but wasn’t it always? Filet cheating wife. I felt I could’ve been her
was filet. Mignon was mignon. Or anyway, I brother, or an old friend of hers that she
couldn’t imagine there was very much va- had once cared for but now only took for
riety in the thing. But what did I know? granted and kept largely in the dark. Or
anyway, I felt that she hardly thought of me
After exchanging a few banal comments, at all, and when she did, it was only as an
and several more smiles with the waiter, afterthought.
my wife ordered—big shocker—the filet
mignon. Medium-well steak was practically I observed the ceiling fans, spinning
all she ever ordered. It was funny—she’d slowly on the belt-driven mechanism, with
once talked about becoming a vegetarian, the motor somewhere out of view, in the
but I knew she would never make it as one. kitchen perhaps. The motor, I thought, was
Not for more than a month or two anyway. like my wife’s lover—I couldn’t see him
Realistically, she probably wouldn’t last a plainly but I knew he was there, causing
week. I could easily picture her all keyed up some of the actions I could see plainly, like
in a Burger King drive-thru, in a mad dash to my wife’s sudden interest in yoga, and col-
sate her craving for cooked flesh. orful lingerie. In addition to these small
harmless changes, I thought, there would
“I’ll have the salmon,” I said bluntly, certainly be greater effects to come—things
handing over my menu. I too would have much more substantial than the slow circu-
liked the filet, but my doctor had said, in lation of air caused by the fan blades over-
addition to alcohol, I should steer clear of head. But they were difficult to predict, and
red meat. And I should still call it living? I I didn’t want to try. Not now.
had asked with sarcasm. The doctor had
chuckled, but without sympathy. He had In time our food came and the confident
waiter bordered on cockiness as he set our
plates before us and said, “Bon appétit!” It

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Revista Literária Adelaide

was just the way he said the phrase, as if he seemed I’d be lucky to count them among
had invented it or something, I don’t know. my friends, that they were of a good gen-
But I almost never liked waiters for some eral type, and surely had lots of wonderful
reason. I never took the time to examine and entertaining things to say. Indeed, I lis-
exactly why. I guess I didn’t eat out often tened in and heard bits and pieces of inter-
enough to ever bother. esting dialogue.

My wife dug into her steak with relish, A woman with short brown hair and a
washing it down with her wine, and I came simple white dress sitting at the table be-
closer than perhaps I ever had before, to hind my wife said, “I like the idea of life
hating her. I felt like a jealous child. She had starting at forty. Honestly, I’m putting a
everything I wanted. I wanted what was in lot of eggs in that basket. I guess I’m still
her glass. I wanted what was on her plate. waiting for things to one day suddenly
I wanted to feel excitement and lust with a make sense. I know I probably shouldn’t be
new partner just as she had been doing. Her holding my breath. And yet I keep finding
new lover, I found, was like (in addition to a myself gasping for air.”
ceiling fan motor) a toy I found her playing
with, and now I wouldn’t be satisfied until I An older man who sounded kind was
had one of my own. chuckled at, or with, by the people at his
table behind me when he said, “I wish I had
For the record, I had never once cheated a time machine. Each night I would look
on my wife. Not even close. I never kissed back on the day and unsay one stupid thing.
another woman on the lips on purpose. I Maybe then people would form better opin-
never arranged a date behind my wife’s ions of me. I wouldn’t be thought of as such
back. And I mentioned everything worth a damn fool.”
mentioning in respect to my interac-
tion with other women. Now it seemed I A tall woman sitting at a table a couple
should’ve cheated before because now it over from ours, who sat up very straight
seemed I was too unappealing and old. But and who sounded simultaneously defiant
it didn’t matter to me all that much really. and wise, spoke loudly about success. “If
one day you find that you’re a failure in life,
I ate my salmon and strived not to be- you can always just change your definition
come bitter. Or bitterer. I squeezed the of success. Personally, I like to save myself
lemon wedge into my sparkling water and the trouble and set my sights real low. I say,
took a refreshing sip. I cut up the asparagus that if I stay out of jail, out of mental in-
that came with my salmon. I liked asparagus. stitutions, and keep myself from living on
I took a bite of one and smiled at my beau- the street, I’m a success. It’s a simple recipe.
tiful wife, who, for the time being, was con- And because of it, there’s a chance I may
tinuing to cohabitate with me. Everything never truly fail.”
is pleasant if you make it so, I decided. The
deep red tablecloth and high back uphol- Next, a kid at a table of what looked to
stered chairs were, I thought, a nice touch. be college students in the corner said spir-
itedly, “My Mom keeps sending me links to
I followed my wife’s lead and looked articles that will, quote, ‘restore my faith in
around at the people. It seemed there humanity,’ but I never read them. I’m not
were a lot of wonderful people present. It sure I want my faith in humanity restored.

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

I enjoy thinking poorly of people. And not was my happiness. Wasn’t it? I mean, I
just the people I have to deal with in class should be glad she had everything she
or at work, but people in general, people wanted, shouldn’t I?
on the whole.” Most of the kids at his table
laughed and I myself smiled. “Are you in the mood for dessert?” I
asked a short time later.
Then, lastly, the woman in the white
dress, who was so looking forward to being “No, I don’t think so. Not tonight. I’m
forty, spoke up again. She had an almost tired.”
melodic voice. “They say that in order to
get by in life you can either be smart or It seemed that was practically all she
pleasant. Me, I’d rather be pleasant—it just ever said to me anymore.
seems easier. I don’t want to have to think
so hard all the time. Always having to be Which, in this case, was really fine by me.
right and know the answer is such tough My doctor had also told me no sweets. Not
going. And being pleasant can be so easy, until after the operation. Not until I had my
like swimming through the air.” brand spanking new aortic valve and had
recovered to a certain degree.
I couldn’t help but nod in agreement.
Wonderful people, indeed. I found I agreed And yet, part of me had been looking
with most of what I’d heard. Or at least ap- forward to admiring my lovely wife while
proved of it being said for entertainment she enjoyed a piece of cheesecake. Cheese-
value or argument’s sake. And I was enjoying cake gave her such pleasure, and that would
myself in spite of my wife’s indifference. But surely be pleasant to see.
soon the damned confident waiter came
back and ruined my equanimity. “How’s ev- As we were leaving I looked again at one
erything?” he asked, sort of oozingly. of the large paintings that hung on the wall
behind the hostess station. Now it seemed
I had a sudden impulse to take my fork clear to me as to what it really was. It was
and jab him in the gut with it a couple of a painting of a man, or rather a woman,
times. I wanted to see blood seep through tossing a dog, or rather a bitch, a bone. I felt
and dampen his fancy black shirt. Not a lot part of it somehow, as if it captured some
of blood, but enough so that he wouldn’t aspect of my life. I wasn’t sure if I was the
be able to finish his shift and would have bone or the bitch, or, if I was one, what the
to go away. other was, but the woman was certainly my
wife. I had no idea what any of it meant, of
Suddenly my wife’s abstraction turned course.
to animation as she smiled and told him
how wonderful everything was. The filet Outside the summer air felt like some-
was just perfect and would he bring her an- thing one could swim through. I handed the
other glass of wine when he got the chance? ticket to the swarthy valet and he stalked
Wonderful! Thank you! off. While we waited for the car to pull up
my wife took my arm, and then she sur-
Yes, wonderful! Everything is pleasant if prised me further by resting her head on
you get exactly what you want, I thought. my shoulder.
Anyway, my wife looked content. She was
basically my sister now. And her happiness Though I was confused, it was a pleasant
confusion. The situation, it seemed, was not
yet untenable.

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Revista Literária Adelaide
About the Author
Pete Able’s work has appeared in Literally Stories, Philadelphia Stories, Blue Lake Review,
Spillwords Press, Johnny America, and others. He lives in southern New Jersey.

37

WHEN SUSAN MET
BECCA

by Carolyn Linck

Even in her kitten heels, Susan O’Leary Susan smiled at them tightly, realizing
swayed softly like the couples on the dance she must have spoken louder than she in-
floor, as Etta James’s “At Last” blared from tended and then continued her march to-
the sound system. She walked across the wards the bar. There was a martini with
lawn from the dessert station, holding a her name on it over there, and she had in-
tiny napkin with the hashtag #BeccaBe- structed the bartender Bobby earlier how
comesABradshaw and two mini red vel- she liked her drink mixed.
vet cupcakes, her manicure smeared with
cream cheese frosting. With each step her “I want Dorothy Hammel to be able to ice
feet sunk further into the grass, making her skate around the rim, do you understand me?
wobbliness even more pronounced. She should be able to do a triple salchow.”

“Where was Rebecca anyway?” Susan “Yes, ma’am,” the young black man with
wondered, looking around at the sea of close cropped hair and shockingly white
guests in their “garden formal” attire – teeth nodded hours earlier when the recep-
whatever the fuck that meant. “And who tion first got under way.
the fuck were all these people?”
She had slipped him a hundred-dollar
“I only know ten God damn people at my bill to let him know she meant business. She
own daughter’s wedding,” Susan seethed, shouldn’t have had to. Being the mother of
scanning the crowd for her daughter’s per- the bride, you’d think she would get some
fectly made-up face. Or the face of anyone sort of special VIP treatment. But she was
she knew for that matter. Anyone except for taking no chances. Given how much she
them. Obviously. was wishing this night would be over al-
ready, the drinks couldn’t come fast enough.
“This is bullshit,” she muttered, loud And she damn well wouldn’t be waiting in
enough for two girls who went to Dart- line behind some frat boy that Zack went to
mouth with Rebecca to look up from their Boston College with or the second cousin
iPhones as they were filtering photos. of his mother’s best friend, who somehow
received an invitation.

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“I’m back, Bobby! That last one was just Susan had made her way to a high-top
perfect. I’ll take another!” Susan exclaimed table and set her already half-empty mar-
to the bartender, cutting in front of several tini down. Her eyes were still searching the
people who were already waiting to be served. crowd for Rebecca’s strawberry blonde hair,
but really, nothing in her surroundings reg-
“You got it, Mrs. O’Leary,” Bobby replied, istered anymore. Now, all she could see in
as he quickly started on her cocktail, giving her mind’s eye was her wedding day to Re-
an apologetic glance to those in line. becca’s father almost 35 years ago.

Moments later he handed her the glass *
and she took a large gulp. She didn’t want
to risk spilling any gin as she maneuvered “Susie, you look absolutely perfect!” her
through the mass of strangers. younger sister Lisa squealed as she fluffed
the dress’s massive train. “Michael will just
“Delicious! You’re a doll, Bobby!” she die when he sees you!”
winked at him. “I’ll see you again later.”
Though she’d never admit it, Susan
Now that the important matter of get- agreed. “It’s true,” she thought to herself,
ting a drink had been resolved, Susan re- looking in the mirror. “I’ve never felt more
sumed the search for her daughter. beautiful. This is exactly how I want to look
when I marry the love of my life.”
The dance floor, illuminated only by
strings of twinkle lights and the moon, was She adored her dress, with all its volume
small and crowded. You’d think she’d be and embellishments and her incredibly chic
able to spot the one woman in a giant white headdress, instead of a boring, traditional veil.
dress, but no, her daughter remained elu-
sive. Even in that God-awful cupcake gown, When the moment came to walk down
Susan couldn’t find her. the aisle, Michael’s face told her that she
and Lisa were right. She was perfect. He
She hated that dress. She told Rebecca beamed at her as if she were Helen of Troy,
so, too. Why her daughter wanted to look his brown eyes growing wide and then
like a pastry on her wedding day was be- sparkling with a bit of moisture. In the
yond her. Especially when she had such a nine months since they had met, she had
lovely figure. But that’s Rebecca, Susan never seen Michael cry. She really must look
thought. “Always going against my advice, amazing to get him misty-eyed.
my guidance, my words of wisdom.”
Later, when she rested her head on
“She’ll regret it one day,” Susan mused, Michael’s shoulder while Lionel Richie
thinking about Rebecca looking at photos and Diana Ross sang about “Endless Love”
from tonight and cringing just how Susan during their first dance, he whispered to her
did every time she looked at the images of that he was luckiest man in the world.
herself in her wedding gown, in all its 1980s
glory. Shoulder pads. Puffy sleeves. And “And I’m the luckiest woman,” she re-
that ridiculous headdress with the single plied, believing it with all her heart.
large jewel hanging down on her forehead
as if she were a blonde-haired Arabian prin- *
cess to top it all off. “But she’ll regret more
than just the dress though…” “Yep, just like Rebecca today,” she thought
cynically as she plucked an olive out of her

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

glass and popped it into her mouth. Who Rebecca’s noise for pure, unadulterated joy.
knew that ten years after that night, Susan She made the same exact sound when she
and Michael would be battling over who got was a toddler and she got her Fisher Price
the house, the Dalmatian, and days of the toy phone to light up by banging its buttons.
week with Rebecca, while he settled into a Just then, Whitney Houston started to sing
condo across town with his paralegal, Tam- Rebecca’s all-time favorite song.
my. “I bet Rebecca and this schmuck don’t
even make it that long,” Susan thought bit- How will I know if he really loves me?
terly.
I say a prayer with every heartbeat
She hoped she was wrong about Zack.
She really did. But she saw so much of Mi- I fall in love whenever we meet
chael in him, it was hard to ignore. Perhaps
that’s what drew Rebecca to him in the first Rebecca was belting out the lyrics, her
place. She always had been a daddy’s girl. It face flushed with joy and her fingers inter-
was easy to see why Rebecca had fallen for twined with Zack’s.
Zack. He was handsome, successful, charis-
matic and charming. Too charming in fact. Susan looked on from her table, martini
Just like Michael, Susan could sense Zack in hand, amazed at how genuinely happy
could talk his way out of anything. It’s what Rebecca appeared. Glancing down, she re-
made him a great lawyer, just like Rebecca’s alized it was almost time to go see Bobby
father. “Men like that, though,” Susan shook again. It occurred to her then that she
her head, though she was still standing had seen that young man more than her
completely alone. “They get away with too daughter since the evening started. She
much. Just look at Bill Clinton.” watched on, nursing the last precious sips of
her cocktail, observing from a safe distance
It was a red flag to say the least. as Rebecca twirled around with Zack and
hopped up and down with some Kappas
Not to mention how quick it has all been, from her Dartmouth years.
even in comparison to her and Michael’s ac-
celerated courtship. Six months and they’d After a few more songs, Susan went back
been engaged. “Honestly,” Susan thought, to visit Bobby, but kept turning around to
“I’ve had loofas longer than they’ve known make sure she had eyes on Rebecca. She
each other.” The bottom line was, she just didn’t want to lose her in the crowd like
didn’t trust Zack with her only child’s heart. she had earlier. She was going to get a word
alone with her. She had to. But first, priori-
And then she was snapped out of her spi- ties: she had to get another drink.
raling thoughts and memories of her wed-
ding, back into the present by the sound of “Bobby, sweetheart! Did you miss me?
her daughter’s unmistakable shriek. I’m ready for another!”

Rebecca trilled with delight loud enough “Coming right up,” he called, grabbing
that everyone in the luxurious New En- the bottle of Hendrick’s and getting to work.
gland courtyard heard her and turned to-
wards the dance floor. Some were amused, Then the stars seemed to align for Susan.
some were puzzled, and some were maybe Right when Bobby handed her the cocktail,
even concerned. But Susan knew that was Rebecca walked off the dance floor smiling,
evidently needing a breather from all the
revelry. Her sorority sisters stayed on the

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dance floor, as did Zack, now encircled by had been consumed. Susan followed her
his groomsmen chanting some idiotic song daughter through a door with a sign that
about getting knocked down and getting read, “WEDDING PARTY ONLY PLEASE,” in
back up again. calligraphy that would have been chal-
lenging for Susan to read, even if she had
Realizing this was the opening she’d been stone sober. Finally, they reached the
been waiting for, Susan beelined to her Bradshaw’s living room with the grand stair-
daughter, splashing a bit of gin onto the case. Picking up her gown, Rebecca started
grass despite her best efforts. climbing, not checking to see if her mother
was still behind her.
“Rebecca dear!” Susan exclaimed, hoping
she appeared like a normal, beaming Susan paused briefly, looking around the
mother of the bride. living room of Rebecca’s new in-laws. “This
is where she’ll open Christmas gifts,” Susan
“Oh, hi, Mom,” her daughter answered, realized. “Or play Monopoly or Charades.
her voice neutral. “Having a good time?” And maybe someday, hunt for Easter eggs
with kids of her own.”
“Of course. Everything is perfect – just
beautiful. Almost as beautiful as you. My She had to take the first few steps two-
little girl,” Susan’s voice catching in her by-two to catch up to Rebecca, but her
throat unexpectedly. simple chiffon shift dress made her much
nimbler than her daughter tonight – despite
“I thought you said I looked like the Mi- the martinis and the age difference. When
chelin Man in my dress?” they got to the bathroom, Susan waited
for Rebecca to start gathering her skirt so
“I said a cupcake, dear. Don’t over drama- she could see how she could best help, but
tize. Anywho, do you think we could have a instead, her daughter just looked at her –
quick word? In private?” brown eyes sparkling, reminding Susan yet
again of her own wedding night and a man
“Seriously, Mom? Now?” Rebecca an- she’d been trying to forget for years.
swered, clearly annoyed. Rebecca looked
at her mother a moment longer and then “So, what is it, Mom?” Rebecca asked
sighed, “All right, fine. I’m going to go in- matter of factly, turning to the mirror to re-
side to pee, and I’ll need some help with my apply her nude lip gloss.
dress anyway. Come with me.”
“Dear, don’t you have to go to the bath-
“Ha!” Susan thought satisfied as she room?” Susan replied, suddenly quite ner-
followed Rebecca through the garden and vous and wanting to stall.
to the double doors of the Bradshaw’s es-
tate. “Why would anyone buy a dress that “Not really,” replied Rebecca, as she con-
requires you have a potty helper? It’s like tinued to fix her makeup in the mirror. “I
she’s two again. Absolutely absurd.” just said that because I figured this would
definitely be a private place for us to talk.”
Rebecca weaved through the crowded
kitchen, past caterers with trays of “late “I see. Well, Rebecca,” Susan started
night snacks” – sliders, curly fries and moz- shakily, her nerves getting the best of her
zarella sticks – that were soon to make despite the gin.
their way to the crowd in the garden, hope-
fully soaking up some of the booze that

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And then she was quickly cut off. that today, and I didn’t know if I’d get the
chance to down there with all those other
“Mom,” Rebecca turned from the mirror, people around.”
looking Susan square in the eye, “We’ve
been through this. Call me Becca like ev- “Mom,” Becca said softly, trying to inter-
eryone else. Please.” rupt.

“But that’s not what I named you,” Susan “And Zack,” Susan pressed on, over her
thought sadly but didn’t say. And in that daughter’s voice. “Zack seems good. Like a
moment, she suddenly understood. good man,” she finished, looking down at
her hands while her mind swam in a pool of
You’d think it would have been clear to gin, images of Becca’s childhood and of her
her sooner. But it wasn’t. Not today when own marriage to Becca’s father.
her daughter walked down an aisle in front
of 200 people or five years ago when she “Mom, I love you,” Becca replied gently.
received her diploma on stage at Dart- “Listen to me,” she said, taking her mother’s
mouth or ten years before that when she hands, some frosting still stuck under the
asked Susan to explain to her how to use a nails. “It means a lot to me that you said
tampon. No, it wasn’t until this moment – that. And being here this weekend. I know
probably the thousandth time she’d asked it’s not easy for you. To see Dad and Tammy.
to be called Becca since she was an adoles- And I know,” Becca took a deep breath,
cent wearing Limited Too – did Susan truly “What you see. Who you see, when you look
understand: she’s her own person. And a at Zack. But Mom, you have to understand,”
woman now. Becca paused.

“Ok, Becca,” Susan finally replied, the Then Susan looked her daughter in the
name feeling alien in her mouth. “I guess,” eye, and they said in unison, “He’s not Dad.”
she tried to continue, thrown by this new-
found realization, unsure of what to say Becca wiped away the single tear that
next. “I guess I just want you to know how now moved slowly down Susan’s cheek.
much I love you. And how proud I am of you.
I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t tell you Then she smiled at her mom, left the
bathroom and rejoined her guests.

About the Author

Carolyn Linck is an aspiring fiction writer, currently working on her first novel in her spare
time. By day, she works in corporate communications for technology companies where
she writes everything from press releases to product descriptions, blogs and ghostwriting
executive op-eds. She lives in Chicago with her dog, Bailey.

42

PLAYING FROG

by Cathy Adams

Justin wanted to get up from the floor board, “Do I get the chicken nuggets now?”
but the game wasn’t over. He was still the Justin asked, leaning over the console.
turtle, and until Maggie called “frog” he had
to stay there or he wouldn’t get the chicken “As soon as we see a Chick-fil-A,” she said.
nuggets she had promised him at the next
stop. “It’s hot,” he said, his voice muffled by Josh eyed her but said nothing.
the floor mat. “Say frog! Say frog!” he whined.
“Why don’t you take a nap until we get
“You have to be the turtle for another there?” Maggie suggested.
minute, okay, and then I’ll call frog,” Maggie
said from the front passenger seat. “I’m not sleepy,” said Justin.

“Call it now!” Justin pleaded. “Of course he’s not sleepy. You give him a
Pepsi every five miles,” snapped Josh.
“Do you want ice cream with your nug-
gets?” Maggie asked. “It keeps him quiet,” said Maggie.

“Yes!” “It keeps him jumping all over the damn
car like a Mexican jumping bean,” said Josh.
“Okay then, be the turtle just a little
longer, okay?” Maggie’s voice was sweet “What’s a Mexican jumping bean?” Justin
and Justin did like pleasing her with the leaned further over the console and into
games because she loved games even more the front seat.
than he did.
“It’s a little bean that goes like this.”
Justin felt the Toyota braked suddenly Laughing, Maggie whirled around and
and he rolled into the back of her seat. tickled Justin’s ribs, but she cast a quick look
at Josh whose hands gripped the steering
“Sorry,” said Josh. “Traffic.” He acceler- wheel hard. On his right bicep was a tattoo
ated quickly and Justin heard him mutter of a Chihuahua that had always fascinated
something else under his breath. Justin, and while Maggie tickled Justin his
face brushed up against the bare-armed
Justin was about to protest once more Josh and his Chihuahua. It was warm against
when Maggie said, “Frog!” Justin shot up Justin’s cheek, and he thought the Chi-
from the floor and landed on the backseat. huahua must have been what made Josh’s
“Yeah! You are the best frog ever!” Maggie arm so warm. “I know,” said Justin, giggling.
said, clapping her hands. “That’s a Mexican jumping bean.” He poked

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

Josh’s arm. Maggie gave an uncomfortable “I’m sorry!” boomed Josh. “There’ll be
little laugh and released Justin. another one. Maggie! You better take care
of this. I can’t handle this!”
They were on the highway once more,
but Josh sometimes turned off into towns “Josh didn’t mean to,” said Maggie with
and drove down main streets and even her teeth clenched. “He won’t miss the next
neighborhoods before making his way back one.” Her eyes were locked onto Josh.
onto the interstate. Justin had ridden in a
car with them before. Josh had driven them “But you said I could have chicken nug-
to Dairy Queen, the mall, and once to see gets. You said I could if I did the turtle game
“Spiderman.” like you said. Go back to Chick-fil-A!” Justin
began to cry.
“Where are we going?” Justin asked for
the first hundred or so miles until Josh “Shut the hell up if you want me to stop
threatened to spank him for asking so many anywhere!” Josh glared back at Justin who
questions. Justin cried and Maggie told Josh shrank back into his seat, sniffling.
to “do it like we talked about.” He calmed
down after that and let Maggie handle “You’re not helping the situation,” said
Justin most of the time, stopping when she Maggie in a voice that was all forced calm-
told him it was time to get something to eat ness. Her big gray eyes took in Josh as if she
or take a bathroom break. She had brought wanted to consume him. “Being a happy
Justin a shopping bag of games to play with, family is what we talked about, remember?”
all new. His favorite was a traffic puzzle
game in which he had to move a tiny plastic “Then keep him quiet! That’s your job.”
car through a traffic maze. It had kept him Josh returned the same all consuming stare
busy for over 70 miles. that she was giving him. “And why does
it have to be Chick-fil-A anyway? We’ve
“There’s one over there,” Maggie said, passed at least three KFC’s in the last hour.”
pointing her finger at an overpass just as
they passed the exit. “Josh!” she whipped “He likes Chick-fil-A the best, and besides,
her head toward him and frowned. that it’s the way we can show our love for
Jesus,” said Maggie.
“Sorry, I didn’t see it in time.”
“How does eating at Chick-fil-A show love
“That’s ‘cause you’re going over eighty for Jesus?” shouted Josh.
miles an hour. You wouldn’t see a monkey’s
butt if you passed it on the side of the road,” “They’re a Christian restaurant, you
said Maggie. know.”

“Well I’m sorry! It’s not like we can just Josh moved his mouth around as if he
lollygag along,” said Josh. were going to argue with her but didn’t.
When he did speak he was almost contrite.
Justin finally figured out what was going “What about Popeye’s? They’re up ahead.
on as he caught sight through the rear Are they Christian?”
window of the Chick-fil-A’s red and white
façade growing smaller and smaller. “Hey! “They’re open on Sundays, so I doubt it,”
You passed it. You passed Chick-fil-A. Go said Maggie.
back!”
For at least ten minutes the car was
silent. Something strange had transpired,

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but Justin couldn’t figure out exactly what. seat. She leaned out the window a little and
Maggie was okay; she watched movies with put $12.71 in Josh’s hand. “Shouldn’t he be in
him and let him eat buttered popcorn even a car seat?” asked Chevron.
when his mother had left instructions that
he was only to eat the slice carrots, cu- “He’s eight years old,” Maggie said, her
cumbers, and raisins that she left in a dish face tight with a smile. “He doesn’t need a
in the refrigerator. He didn’t like Josh who car seat.”
came over sometimes long after Justin’s
bedtime. He could hear them in the den Justin was six years old and all three of
making noises. Sometimes Maggie would them knew it, but for Justin, being declared
laugh, but sometimes she sounded like she a full two years older sounded important
was mad. Once when Justin got out of bed somehow and he didn’t want to change it.
and stood in the doorway of the den he That lady at the window must have been
saw Josh with his shirt off on top of Maggie. nosey or something. That’s what Maggie
When the two of them spotted him, they always said when people said stuff like
both jumped up and Maggie shooed him that. Once when they went to the movies
back to bed. There was something about at night, the ticket lady, who must have
what he saw that made him keep seeing been about a hundred years old, said how
the picture in his head for a long time. He late it was for a little boy to be out at the
asked his mother later if his dad ever took movies. Maggie told her that he was re-
his shirt off when he lived in the house. His ally sick and he wasn’t going to live to see
mother just shrugged and asked him why very many movies so she’d better keep her
he thought of a question like that. Justin mouth shut. When Justin asked her why she
said he didn’t know. told that lady he was sick Maggie said she
was playing a game with the lady and it was
“There’s one,” Maggie said, clapping her okay because they all thought it was funny,
hands. Josh eased the car over to the exit but he hadn’t seen anyone laughing when
ramp and then made the right turn onto the Maggie took him by the hand to lead him
service road where a Chick-fil-A restaurant down the carpeted hall to the movie.
sat in the gleaming late Monday afternoon
light. When Chevron came back to the window
she was now staring down into the car at
Josh placed their order and even remem- Maggie. She held onto the bag of nuggets
bered to ask for extra honey mustard, Jus- inside the window. “I got grandkids, you
tin’s favorite sauce. With no other cars at the know. I just like to look out for the little
drive-thru, Josh whipped around the corner ones, and he really should be in a seatbelt,
of the building and stopped at the pick-up at least. If you was to have a wreck your
window. A pudgy woman with a name-tag little boy could really get hurt back there,
that read “Chevron” reached out to take Josh’s and I know you’d never forgive yourself if
twenty dollar bill. Her eyes locked on Justin something happened.”
who leaned over the console, watching the
window in anticipation. Josh tensed up and “We’ll get him buckled in,” Maggie said
cast a glance at Maggie who responded with quickly, but Chevron stood there shaking
a touch on his arm. In a few seconds Chevron her head, still holding the white bag.
returned, her eyes still on the boy in the back
The woman reached into a box next to
her, took out something, and kept on talking.

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“My cousin’s little boy got killed six years ago calling the cops,” said Maggie, her face now
‘cause they had him sitting up front, no seat smiling and settled on Justin. “There is not
belt or nothing, and he went right through one thing to call the cops about because ev-
the windshield. I’m telling you, it broke my erything is just fine. Now here’s your nug-
heart. I’m just saying this ‘cause I gotta a gets,” she handed the bag over the seat to
heart for kids, you know.” Justin. “We got you the big size, okay?” She
was speaking in the high, loud, melodic way
“Yeah, okay, we got it,” said Josh, reaching she did when she wanted Justin to behave.
into the window opening and snatching “And here’s your drink.” She reached into a
the bag from Chevron’s hand. Startled, she plastic bag in the floor, took out a half-con-
looked at down at her empty hand. sumed bottle of Pepsi, removed the cap,
and handed it back to Justin. The drink was
Maggie was hissing in a low voice, “You warm and had lost much of its fizz. Justin
better calm down,” while she took the bag took a sip and it hit his stomach, sour and
from him. Then she thrust herself over Josh’s sickening. “Don’t spill anything? Okaaay?”
lap. “We’ve got a heart for kids, too. He just Maggie called over the seat.
took his seatbelt off not one minute before
we pulled in here, so don’t you worry, he’ll “Okay,” Justin said.
be fine. He’ll be strapped right in before we
get out of the parking lot.” Josh hit the ac- The two adults sat rigid and quiet in the
celerator before she got the last sentence front. Their car was passing almost every
out. Behind him he could hear the fading other car on the road. Justin put a nugget
sound of Chevron yelling out the window, in his mouth and chewed. There was no
“Hey!” The tires squealed just a little as they honey mustard in the bag. “Where’s my
made the left turn around the building, and sauce?” Justin said, his mouth still stuffed
Justin had to clutch the back of Maggie’s with chicken.
seat to keep from being slung into the car
door. “Now that was just stupid!” Maggie “Didn’t the lady put it in the bag?” asked
was yelling now. “Everything was fine until Maggie without turning around.
you grabbed the bag and started acting a
fool!” “I want honey mustard.”

“She was suspicious, Maggie,” Josh said, Josh exhaled hard and the car went
turning his head left and right before pulling faster.
quickly into traffic.
“Mama always makes me wear a seat
“The only thing she was concerned about belt,” Justin said, his voice louder.
was him not being in a seatbelt, which I
could have handled just fine if you hadn’t “Then put it on,” Josh snapped.
overreacted like that!”
“Here you go, honey.” Maggie turned all
“You think she’s calling the cops?” Josh’s the way around and rested on her knees in
voice had the smallest thread of fear. her seat. “Let’s get you strapped in.” Her
fingers were sweaty and warm against Jus-
Maggie looked back at Justin who had tin’s shoulder as she pulled the seat belt
seated himself as far back in the seat as across him and fastened it over his lap.
he could, the first two fingers of his right “Now you’re safe and sound, okaaaay?” The
hand in his mouth. “Of course she’s not shrillness of her voice seemed to Justin like
a muffled scream and he felt the tremor of

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Revista Literária Adelaide

oncoming tears make his mouth quiver. The “Roll it down!” he ordered. Josh did as di-
chicken nugget on his tongue tasted like the rected, and Justin could see the side of his
bag it came in. Maggie stared hard at Josh, face and way his teeth showed as he smiled
her profile illuminated by the setting sun to up at the officer.
the right of the front windshield. It left her
nose and mouth obscured in the harsh light “License and registration,” the trooper
of late afternoon. They’d been traveling all said, glancing about the inside of the car.
day, maybe longer. Justin could remember Justin clutched his Chick-fil-A bag, his mouth
only being led to the car by Maggie just after shut in fear. Maggie’s face had been gro-
his mother left for work that morning. She tesque and it made him feel even more con-
carried a small suitcase that she had quickly fused. She had never looked at him like that
thrown some of his things into. We’re going before. Maggie was always been nice, most
to Six Flags Over Georgia. You’re going to of the time nicer than his mother who came
ride a roller coaster and eat hotdogs and home from work only to start working again.
see animals and then we’re going to stay Papers passed between Josh and the officer
with my sister for a vacation. Don’t worry. and some words that Justin could not under-
Your mama said it was okay. She’s so happy stand. The officer was telling him something
you’re going to get to have so much fun. and Josh was nodding and smiling hard. Up
until they stopped the car Josh had been
Justin managed to swallow the mouthful angry and now he was smiling like he was
of food. The countryside passed by his the happiest person in the world, but his
window in a blur and he began feeling smile was like Maggie’s. It was like a clown’s
sick. Billboards, fields, houses, trees, and smile that you couldn’t tell was happy or
lights, flashing lights, red and blue flashing mad, and Justin hated clowns.
lights. The car accelerated for a few sec-
onds. Maggie and Josh’s words were so “I said, where are you going, young man?”
erratic and fast Justin did not catch what the officer was looking between the seat
either one said. Suddenly the car began to and Josh right at Justin.
slow down and Maggie turned around. Her
eyes were wide and scary looking but she “He doesn’t like to talk much,” offered
was smiling. “You still want that ice cream? Josh.
We’re going to get you that ice cream but
you need to be real sweet and keep quiet The officer ignored him and winked at
while Josh talks to this police officer, okay? Justin. “Tell me where you’re headed in such
You’re going to have so much fun when we a hurry. Do you know where you’re headed?”
get to Six Flags. They’ve got all kinds of rides
and um, they’ve got little cars for you to ride The silence in the car made the whoosh
in and you can drive them all by yourself.” of passing cars hum in Justin’s head. The of-
Maggie prattled on until Josh got the car ficer’s eyes were blue, like his mother’s eyes,
completely stopped on the shoulder of the and his face was smiling not like a clown’s
highway. Sweat ran down his temples and but like a real person. “We’re going to Six
he wiped it away with the back of his hand. Flags Over Georgia,” said Justin. “I’m going
He and Maggie exchanged hard looks, and to ride a car.”
when the officer stopped at the window he
tapped it hard with the back of his hand. Maggie gasped and Josh’s hand shot out
to catch her hand. He let out a laugh and
began squeezing her hand. “He’s got his–”

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Adelaide Literary Magazine

The officer cut him off. “Why son, you’re back up along with the chicken nugget and
headed in the wrong direction. You’re the potato chips he had eaten much earlier.
headed toward Canada. Do you know The spew went all over Justin’s lap and the
where Georgia is?” back of Josh’s seat.

Justin shook his head. The vitriol from Josh’s mouth sounded
like it was coming from a far away place.
“It’s all the way in the other direction on Maggie’s face flashed in front of Justin and
the other side of America,” the officer said, he laid his head against the car door. She was
keeping his grin on Justin. reaching into the back with napkins in her
hand and brushing the mess from Justin’ legs
Justin’s mouth hung open. Josh released onto the floor that was now covered in sour
Maggie’s hand and waved his own good-na- smelling sweetness and white pulpy pieces
turedly at the officer. “We promised him of chewed up chicken. The spinning colors of
we’d go to Six Flags later, after our trip up red and blue were fading behind them.
to see my wife here’s sister.”
“Just keep driving, damn it,” Maggie sput-
“My sister’s a missionary!” Maggie’s tered. “Don’t speed up.”
words fell in a splat against the conversa-
tion with such a sense of oddness that even “It’s gonna make me throw up if you
Justin felt something had not sounded right. don’t get that smell out,” Josh yelled. “I
Maggie had always said her sister worked at can’t stand the smell of vomit. Christ Jesus!”
TGI Friday’s, and he knew Six Flags had to
be near because they had been traveling all “You will not take the Lord’s name in vain
day long and Maggie had said they would in my presence,” said Maggie, turning to
be there by night time. Josh with a soggy napkin in her hand only
inches from his face.
“Well, wherever you’re going, your daddy
here’s getting a ticket for going too fast,” said Josh wretched and pushed her hand
the officer, tearing something from a little away. “I swear, I’m gonna kill somebody
notebook. He and Josh talked some more, before we get to Canada.” He put his hand
but Justin stopped listening. His heart was over his mouth but then quickly let go and
thumping and his stomach had hard knots reached for the window button. Cool air
inside. He wanted to go home. He wanted rushed through the car and swirled the
to go home to his mother even if he didn’t smell around Justin’ head. He closed his
even see her until bedtime; he wanted to get eyes and felt the freshness on his face. From
out of that car and away from Josh and away the front seat he heard Josh wretch once
from Maggie even though he had liked her more.
more than the other babysitters his mother
had brought home to stay with him when “Blasphemy is one thing I will not tol-
he came home from Kindergarten everyday. erate,” Maggie continued. “You know how I
He didn’t care if he rode in a little car or on feel about that.”
a roller coaster, and he didn’t want any hot-
dogs because if he ate them he would throw “God Maggie, you can be such a bitch. I’m
them up. As soon as he thought these things gonna be sick.”
he felt the car moving again underneath him,
and that was when the Pepsi came chugging “Pull over at the next exit, and I’ll get
some paper towels. When you find a sta-
tion, go to the side, not the front,” she said.

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