The People Zoo

All right! Here I am, a big plump penguin in his prime. Take your pictures. No one again? I can’t believe
this! Maybe they don’t like penguins anymore. Or, maybe, it’s not us, it’s them! Something bad must have
happened to people. I think we should go to their habitat; something terrible destroyed people, and we
might be in danger too. We can’t just sit here and…wait! Look at that poster, a green round monster with
little crowns all over its body, is that the thing that ate people? Yeah, that must be it. A corona monster
swallowed them all. You know what, I’m gonna miss them. People could be a pain in the beak sometimes,
but they were big, gentle, intelligent creatures. Wait a minute, look at that! They’re not all dead. There’s a
little girl behind that window, and an old man on the balcony! They are all alive, there and there! But why
are they locked in these cells? I guess now animals are supposed to go and look at people! This is
hilarious! I wish I had a camera! Maybe we can even feed them, let’s go get some fish!

St Valentine’s Day, Elinor

How very absurd and medieval on his part to send me a valentine! A real valentine with, I have no doubt,
birds and hearts and cupids and true lover’s knots–and–arrows on it. I do not think I shall be entirely
satisfied unless it has a heart penetrated an arrow. There is something about a heart, in vivid color,
penetrated an arrow, that expresses an amount of sentimental suffering otherwise impossible to delineate.
I used to be very fond of the openwork ones over colored paper, but I think now I should be able to do
without the colored paper. My tastes have softened down with the faded aestheticism of the age. But I
should like some of those appropriate legends “stuck” here and there; something simple but convincing,
such as “True Love,” or “Mine is Thine,” “Think of Me,” or “From a True Friend.” I remember that even
to the uncritical eye of youth these aphorisms had rather the air of being attached as a work of
supererogation after the real valentine was finished. They suggest conventionalized emotion in a way that
is charming, and Dick and I both like our emotion conventionalized.

Almost 16 by Gabriel Davis

Dad, you will let me take the car myself. I’m going to be 16 in two weeks. Yeah, technically my learner’s
permit requires you in the car with me … technically I have to wait two weeks to get my license …. But
you know I can drive, you told me I’m better than mom. I can three point turn, parallel park, and I observe
the traffic laws like a religion. So it’s not like irresponsible to let me drive, because you know I’m
awesome at it. GOD! This is so unfair. I hate you! You’re going to ruin me socially. The coolest girls in
freshman year, the one’s whose parents are all probably making huge donations at mom’s gala tonight,
who live in the massive houses on the hill and won’t talk to me. They started talking to me. Because, they
needed a ride to the dance. And I’m like, I can take you. And they’re like, “you’re 16?” and I’m all
“yeah.” And then they said, “cool.” And I’ve been eating lunch with them everyday this week, and they’re
all so excited. It was well thought out. You and mom were supposed to be at her benefit gala thing tonight
… you weren’t supposed to have a stupid fever and be stuck at home. If I let them down… If I don’t get in
that car right now and go pick them up and take them to the dance … I’m dead or I might as well be.
They will make it their life’s work to ruin me. I will be marked, mocked, and probably shunned. My entire
high school experience will become hell. I’m not being dramatic. I’m being accurate, dad. This is how
things go. So I’m begging you … just …. Just go to sleep. You have a fever you know. You need your
rest. Just, go to sleep now and I’ll… I’ll still be here when you wake up in exactly 3 hours. Right before
mom gets back.

On Washing Cereal Bowls by Tara Meddaugh

That is not my cereal bowl, and I’m sorry, but, I don’t want to keep washing dishes that aren’t mine. It’s
not because—no, listen, listen, Mom. It’s not because I don’t want to help out. I mean, I would pay you
rent, but you said you don’t want me to. It’s just—you keep thinking I’m the one leaving cereal bowls in
the sink, and I want you to know, it’s not me. I usually eat out. And that’s a good thing. It’s not a waste of
my money, Mom, and I hate when you say that, because, it’s like, you’re not seeing how my generation is
trying to fix the economy by supporting it. You know? We have to go to the small businesses to keep them
open and give people jobs, and, you know, that could be me owning a restaurant some day, or one of my
friends. Actually, Megan just told me she wants to open a gourmet chia seed and oatmeal café. I would
totally go there. And you should too, Mom, because it’s so good for you and I’ve never seen you soak
chia seeds at home. (pause) And you know, the reason I don’t eat cereal here, and create all these dishes
that need washing? It’s really because… (pause) As I’ve grown up, I think I just kind of realize what’s
important in life. And I realize how precious our time is. I know you understand, because this morning
you were crying watching that old video of me when I was two and I was watering our tomatoes with the
little turquois watering can. (pause) Time just keeps moving, Mom, and now that I’m out of college, and
I’m working and have, like, a serious boyfriend who might be my partner some day…I just look at what I
do with my time differently. Time has a priceless value. And recognizing that is part of maturing, Mom.
And that’s a good thing. So look…why don’t you and I spend some time together tonight, and go out for
dinner? While we still can. Mother and Daughter. And Dad can wash the cereal bowl.

The Maid and Miss Bonbon

How come every time we play, I have to be the maid? Why don’t you be the maid this time and I’ll be the
rich lady? I know you’re older than me, but this is make believe. Besides, the rich lady could have a
cranky, old maid. That would be perfect for you. I mean, you’d play her good. Or maybe the rich lady got
rich really young because her mom and dad died and left her tons of money. That would be so sad. She
wouldn’t be any fun to play with then. But you know what? I’d do her part, just so you wouldn’t have to.
Oh, c’mon! Okay, okay fine! Let’s play. Miss BonBon? I’m sorry to bother you when you’re counting
your money. But I have some very important news for you. I quit and I want my paycheck in cash!

Pail of Water

You make one mistake and people never forget it. Seriously. I mean, yeah, Jack and me went up the hill to
fetch a pail of water. And, yes, one of us fell down and broke his crown and yeah, yeah, the other one
came tumbling after. And no – we did not bring back any water. We did not succeed in our mission. And,
if I was to be totally honest, we also lost the bucket. But come on. It wasn’t like we went up the hill to
save the planet from an alien invasion. There wasn’t a baby up there up there about to be eaten by a bear.
It was water. We fell down. We didn’t come back with a pail of water. Someone else got up out of their
chair, got a bucket, climbed up the hill and fetched a pail of water. Big deal. Life will go on. And just to
set the record straight, I am perfectly capable of fetching water. I personally have fetched hundreds of
pails of water, both before that incident and after. So has Jack. It was one time. Sheesh. Maybe it’s time
we all moved on.

especially with a possible insurgence against the mafia bosses. Imagine this guy who's basically a kid,
only missing the bright eyes he once had, stumbling into a house clutching his arm. He's frantic, trying his
best to stay quiet as he tips over medicine bottles and rusty razors in search for the first aid kit. The light
turns on. His dad stands in the doorway, patting the kid's arm on reflex.

"Hey buddy, thought you'd be home by midnight." He points to the clock, hands a breath away from
striking three.

"I had to do it tonight," is all he can say, "Anita be damned, I couldn't save...justice doesn't wait for
people's safety."

"Whoa, be careful when you're so close to the soap," the dad chuckles quietly, pointedly gesturing his
coffee cup towards his son as he continues, "you're lucky my sleep waits for you."
"I know, dad, and trust me, soon it'll be all over. I'll find you some place far away from any of these
ruthless murderers-”

"Oh," another gesture as his coffee pours from his mouth into his cup, a constant and disgusting cue that
he had to speak again, "are you still working for them?