In the History of the World

First, the bad news: I didn't make it to Cleveland after all thanks to Snowzilla's extended beat-down on Portland. My luggage, on the other hand, moseyed there and back—too bad it couldn't smuggle me a falafel sandwich from Tommy's. So not only did I miss out on Christmas with my parents (you guys, my holiday was so makeshift that I decorated a small houseplant with ornaments, no joke), but I also couldn't get my hands on Zaggy Tales and miscellaneous other goodies I know are still boxed up in the eaves. Rats!

What's the good news? More time for blogging! Er... that is, if I can find any time in between the giant book I'm proofreading and my many, many cookie breaks. And don't worry, I'll schedule a makeup trip to the Cleve at some point. So, onward!

One of my favorite books circa fifth grade was Just as Long as We're Together. Don't even get me started. The Benjamin Moore poster? Jeremy Dragon's chartreuse jacket? Cousin Howard's claim that burping is a compliment to the chef? The words comely and fusty? Steph's gluts? Allison's talking dog? Rachel Robinson's designer jeans and lampshade top? Steph's shirt with the little animals marching on it? Oh man, I am so jonesing for a reread right now.



Plotwise, In the History of the World bears no resemblance to Just as Long as We're Together (no Richard Gere posters named after paint cans here... or parents separating... or long-time friendships dissolving...) but I really think I was trying to imitate Judy Blume's writing style. See if you notice any Judyisms as you read. My story also features a protagonist who is not at all loathsome! I know, I know, it's kind of crazy.

In The History Of The World

If there has ever been a nicer day in the history of the world, I will be very surprised.

We got out late for winter break this year. It was the 23rd. The 5th grade got to watch a good movie, 'A Christmas Story'. I love that movie.

This is based on real life. The only movie we watched more at school parties was The Neverending Story. Oh my sweet lord, ALWAYS with The Neverending Story. Periodically they'd shake things up with, say, Flight of the Navigator or even a heartwarming faux-kidnapping film like Savannah Smiles.

I got to sit with my two best friends, Amanda Thompson and Georgia Libb. I gave them red heart-shaped pins that say, 'FRIENDS FOREVER' in black letters that go across. I have one, too. Georgia gave me a little monkey figure. I think it's a Chimpanzee. I named it Tarzan.

This is also based on real life; I know because I mentioned a stuffed monkey named Tarzan in one of the journal entries in my last post. And I hate to nitpick—especially when it involves a monkey—but technically shouldn't that chimp's name be Cheetah?

Amanda made us shirts that say, 'WILD THING' in splashy, bright pink, well, hot pink letters. On the back are our names. She gave me Georgia's and she gave Georgia mine by mistake.

OMG. Hot pink puffy-painted WILD THING shirts? Amanda, you've outdone yourself!

Then the best thing happened. [Better than the WILD THING shirts?! Do tell!] This boy in my class, Adam Craine, came up and gave me a gift. I'm not kidding. I was so surprised.

Definitely NOT based on a real life. However, receiving a gift from someone with a Y chromosome (who was not related to me!—very important stipulation) was an event that I fervently wished would occur.

"Don't open it until Christmas." he said as he walked away. I guess he was really nervous.

Amanda and Georgia were freaking out. So was I. A boy had given me a present. I hadn't liked Adam before, but I was starting to. He was very nice and he looked all right. [What a glowing endorsement!]

"I can't imagine what it is." squealed Georgia.

"Do you think it's perfume, Loni?" asked Amanda.

"I don't know." I answered, looking at the box. It was wrapped in holiday wrapping paper. There were little elves on it. It was like a shoe box, only shorter and higher.

Is it possible for something to be simultaneously shorter and higher? And how much does it weigh? Throw us a bone here, Loni. A bottle of perfume does not have the same heft as, say, a stuffed bunny.

"It must be a big bottle of perfume." remarked Georgia.

"I guess." I said.

Do fifth graders really wear perfume? Yikes.

"What does the card say?" asked Amanda.

The card said,

"Dear Loni,
Here's wishing you the best holiday season ever and a great new year.
Love,
Adam

"LOVE." shrieked Amanda and Georgia at the same time.

Love, schmove! No checkboxes? No poetry? No complimentary prose regarding Loni's pants? BO-RING!

"He sure does have a thing for you." teased Amanda.

"Omigod. Loni, he's looking at you right now." said Georgia.

"And he's smiling." said Amanda. "Take a look."

I looked. They were right. Adam was staring and smiling. I was going to smile back, but he looked away. I guess he was really, really nervous.

"Oh, well." said Amanda just as Georgia said, "Awww, darn."

Our class party was neat. I sat with Stacy [who I renamed Beth Robbins after I Friendship-ified the story]. Amanda isn't in my class. Georgia isn't in my class, either. We had pizza, candy canes, all this other candy, and cake. Then Miss Kudje [yessss! The Kudje is back!] opened her presents. I gave her this thing my mom stitched. It says, 'BEHIND EVERY GREAT STUDENT IS A GREAT TEACHER'. She liked it. My mom loves to stitch. She is going to teach me how. The party was fun.

Whatever you do, don't tell Miss Kudje about your gift from a boy, unless you want her to launch into a soliloquy about what her cute, semi-delinquent boyfriend, Tim, bought her for Christmas in fifth grade. (My money's on cigarettes. You?)

I met Amanda and we walked home together. Georgia's mom picked her up. They are going to Florida for Christmas. Her grandparents live there. Georgia is really lucky. I stay home for Christmas. Last year Amanda went to California, but this year she's staying home, like me.

"You are so lucky." said Amanda as we walked. "I wish a boy gave me something. Georgia is real jealous. She told me after your class left the movie. I am too. I never guessed ADAM. I didn't really notice him. He's OK, though. I mean he's nice."

I knew what Amanda was saying. That Adam didn't look too hot. She was right, of course.

I like how so far the moral of this story is You Can Like a Boy Who Isn't Cute as Long as He Gives You Gifts.

"Just because he isn't really cute doesn't mean I can't like him. A lot of people aren't really cute. Like Michael Finnegahn." Right away I knew I could have said someone else. Amanda turned red. She likes Michael. I thought she would kill me, but she didn't say anything.

"I'm sorry." I said.

"That's OK." Amanda said after awhile. "I guess we're even." We both smiled.

WHAT? Normally that exchange would have led to a knock-down, drag-out fight in which one or both of the girls would throw her new heart-shaped FRIENDS FOREVER pin to the ground and stomp off in a huff. Instead we have... APOLOGIES and SMILING? This must be Judy's influence.

"Don't look, but here comes Lover Boy."

I wanted to strangle Amanda. Instead we just laughed.

When Adam got close I said, "Thank you."

"You didn't open it, did you? I said to wait until Christmas." Adam practically screamed.

"No." I said. I was surprised by his outburst. [Me too! There isn't a strange ticking sound coming from that package, is there?] "I didn't open it."

"Ok" He said as he ran away. I guess he was really, really, really nervous.

"Talk about moody." Amanda said. "Shy one moment, fierce the next."

I am totally picturing Adam as Tyra Banks right now. Or maybe Jay Manuel.

"I'll say." I said.

"Call me on Christmas between 2 and 3 o'clock. Okay?" called Amanda as we approached her street.

"OK." I yelled. We waved to each other and I headed towards my street, feeling very excited.

Right when I walked through the door, Matthew threw himself at me. "Tabby had babies." he breathlessly announced.

"She did?" I shouted.

"She did. She did." repeated Danielle.

Tabby is our cat. Danielle and Matthew are my sister and brother. I also have another younger sister named Monika.

If you're truly interested, there's a little sheet of paper in the book's folder upon which is typed the following:

The Hopkins

Mr. Joseph
Mrs. Wilhemena
Loni 10½
Monika 9
Danni 6
Matt 6

Ah, old stitch-loving Wilhemina.

Tabby had had her babies..... in a pile of dirty clothes on my floor. [I can't believe their cat isn't spayed. Bob Barker would be outraged.] "In my room." I exclaimed. "I feel so honored."

"I'll bet." said Monika.

I was about to say something really mean to her when dad burst through the door. I thought he was happy because it was his last day of work for a week.

My dad owned a diner, so my grasp of "vacation time" was loose at best.

"You'll never guess," shouted dad as we all ran downstairs. "Starting next week, I'll be the president of Straton & Co."

"Oh, Joseph." said mom and they hugged. Matt made gagging sounds and Danni laughed.

"Mr. Straton is retiring and since the vice president moved away last week, he asked me."

In 10-year-old logic, that makes total sense.

Then the phone rang. It was gramme. She wanted to take the kids in our family out to lunch on the 1st.

Then dad took us all out to celebrate with Chinese food. I almost forgot to put Adam's present under the tree. I did right as I got into bed. I tip-toed downstairs. Mom and Dad wanted to know who it was from so, I said a friend at school which wasn't a lie, but I know they checked it out when I left.


Loni neglected to mention the bow earlier. Does anyone else suspect Adam's mom had a hand in this gift?

On the 24th I woke up thinking about the dream I had the night before.

I dreamt I was walking on air to find the rainbow. I was going up and up and up. Then I fell through a cloud. I was falling, falling, falling. I saw Georgia lounging in a huge indoor swimming pool, Amanda talking to Michael Finnegahn, who looked like a sick dog [I think that means he was showing interest in Amanda, not that he needed to hurl], Matt and Danni opening their gifts, Monika snooping in my room, Gramme out at lunch (without me). I saw the pavement below me and I screamed at it. I was going to hit the ground just as Adam caught me. He held me in his arms and whispered into my ear, "Loni, I...."

"Oh, wake up already, geek burger." yelled Monika. She never fails.

"Oh, shut up already, monkey-butt breath." I yelled.

"I don't shut up I grow up and when I look at you I throw up."

"Then you come around the corner and lick it up." We both yelled.

"JINX." screamed Monika, slamming the door.

Okay, that was pretty awesome. Geek burger and monkey-butt breath? That sounds like some sort of amazing crime-fighting duo! Except, wait, how exactly does one acquire monkey-butt breath? Never mind, I don't think I want to know.

My friends and I were huge fans of the "I don't shut up I grow up..." line, as featured in Stand By Me. Our other favorite movie to poach insults from was Pee-wee's Big Adventure: "I know you are, but what am I?", "I don't make monkeys, I just train 'em!", "Why don't you take a picture? It'll last longer!", etc., etc.

Then I wanted to call Amanda or Georgia, but I couldn't. Amanda was having a party and said not to call, she'd be real busy. [Yes, I believe she has you scheduled from 2:00–3:00 on the 25th.] And Georgia was in Florida. I really wanted to tell them about my dream. I think Adam was saying, "Loni, I love you." I'd smile and say, "I love you, too, Adam." Then we'd kiss. Not a long, slimy, slurpy french kiss. [Thanks for that visual.] A little peck would suit me fine.

Now she loves him?! Loni, you might want to hold off on the L-word until you find out what's in that box. It might not be the best trade-off for a bottle of Electric Youth.


I kept hoping either Amanda or Adam would call me. No one called me. I was really depressed. Matt and Danni went sledding with their friends. I was really, really depressed. I was bored.

We went from the nicest day in the history of the world to slit-your-wrists ennui in less than 24 hours!

And that was actually where I left off in fifth grade. Fortunately, I started a rewrite in sixth grade and—this has to be a Christmas miracle!—I actually added new material. Well, only about a page of new material, but let's not knock it. Also of note: I deleted all the lines about depression and left off with this:

All day I kept hoping Amanda or Adam would call me, but no one did.

My family came over for Christmas Eve dinner. Gramma [Gramme got renamed Gramma—lame], Uncle Ward, Aunt Irma, and my cousins, Clyde, Cheryl, Ernest, Lynn, Juliann, Wade, Sheila, Roy, and Dina were all there. I know, my aunt and uncle have nine kids.

And rather eclectic taste in names.

Dad told them all about how he became president of Straton & Co. It was very boring.

In the rewrite, Mr. Hopkins was the current veep of Straton & Co., which makes his presidential rise much more plausible, albeit just as boring. What kind of business do you think Straton & Co. IS anyway? Let's Google it!

Omigod, the only one listed is an ELECTRICIAN, I shit you not. Maybe Loni can whip up some phone bugs later and find out what kind of trash Adam's talking to all the fifth grade dudes. I'll bet Rich Alzone has a thing or two to say about that present.

Then I saw Juliann and Sheila, who are eleven and thirteen, looking around under the tree.

Uh-oh.

"Do you have a boyfriend, Loni?" asked Sheila, the one who is thirteen.

"No." I said, looking at Adam's present in her hands.

"Who else would sign a card 'LOVE'?" Juliann asked. What could I say?

"This boy at my school who has a crush on me." I said finally. "Could I please have my present back?"

"Not so fast." Sheila put the gift behind her back. "Come here, Juliann." she said and whispered something in her ear. Juliann nodded. Sheila smiled smugly. I glanced at her. The present was still behind her back.

Geez, do they have nothing better to do than taunt a 10-year-old? Excuse me, 10½-year-old?

Juliann got her sisters, Cheryl and Lynn, who are fifteen [i.e., way too old for this crap!] and eight. They were all talking and giggling. Then, all four of them ran up into the bathroom with the present.

I was right behind them as they ran into the bathroom, but they managed to slam the door in my face.

This doesn't sound good.

After what seemed like two zillion hours, but was really only about fifteen minutes, they came out. They didn't have the gift with them. I ran into the bathroom, searching frantically for it.

I found it in the toilet.

The wrapping paper was on the floor and the box had been opened, but I think the present was still inside. I pulled it out [ick!] and put it on the floor.

I sat on the edge of the tub and cried. If it was perfume, it was definitely ruined.

AND THAT'S IT! First off, Loni's cousins are twats. Worst cousins in the history of the world. Second, I'm pretty sure that if it was perfume, it would be okay. I mean, what's a little toilet water to toilette water? A stuffed animal, on the other hand, would be pretty screwed.

Sadly, I have no memory of what the gift was going to be (probably because I hadn't decided yet), so your guess is as good as mine: Smurf figurines? Snap bracelets? The La Bamba soundtrack on tape? What did a 10-year-old boy buy a girl in 1988? That's not a rhetorical question, by the way; I really have no idea.

NEXT TIME: My New Year's resolutions from 20 years ago. Woo boy, do I feel old.

Chrismukkah

I'm a half-Jew, and although my family never went in for a combo holiday like the Cohens did—or like my friend Jamie, whose family celebrated Hanumas—December did mean double the holiday action, if not double the gifts.

First we would celebrate Hanukkah with my mom's family. My grandma would throw a giant party and invite all of my mom's cousins and their kids, and we'd have a gift exchange akin to a Not-So-Secret Maccabee.

[Note: I'm breaking my own rules here by including journal entries from way back in fourth grade too, but I think you'll thank me once you're knee-deep in the late '80s toy nostalgia and crazy Christmas injury drama.]

11-19-87
Journal Topic: A tradition I enjoy

I like going to my grandmother's house for Chanukkah. It's fun. My grandma [gives] everyone a present. She tells us on her invitations who we are to give a gift to. My aunt and uncle give me a present, too.

When we eat there are big tables for all of the people. My grandma makes potato pancakes. Potato pancakes are just delicuous. She makes jello, too. I get stuffed.

Potato pancakes are delicuous!

We play board games. No one knows how to do the draydel, except maybe Joel. Sometimes we play hide-and-seek. Other times, Sammy chases us. Genie and I play with Courtney and sometimes her little sister, Laura.

I'm going to see Sammy next week, and I hope he doesn't chase me.

Then we have to go home. Everyone wants to stay and keep playing, the kids anyway. We have to go because gram and gramp need sleep and time to pick up wrapping paper.

Damn wrapping paper!

12/18/87
Journal Topic: Free Choice

On Hanukkah I got Mimi, the 'Hot Looks' doll I wanted. Mimi is a blond. Her hair is long and curly. She has blue eyes. She even has make-up on! She has 2 outfits you can mix-and-match with.

Had I joined the Hot Looks marketing team or something? Yet I neglected to mention the following very important facts: Mimi is a model, from France, and exclusively wears clothing that is either shiny or lacy.


What is going on in the outfit farthest to the left? Mimi looks like she swiped a pair of Muhammad Ali's fight trunks. And then paired it with a sweat band. And leopard print. And lace! Dear God!

You can find more Hot Looks photos than you ever needed to see here.

The day after Christmas my favorite far-away-living cousin, Bonnie, is coming for a visit. Bonnie likes unicorns, so we bought her some. Jimmy [Bonnie's brother] is coming, too. I forget what we bought him. We might go to Seaworld with them.

Bonnie was in high school and she had a unicorn collection. Win! Also, yes, there used to be a SeaWorld in Aurora, OH. And no, it is nowhere near any sort of sea. If you think a trip there in the dead of the Cleveland winter sounds like a recipe for frostbite, you're much smarter than anyone in my family.

On the 28th my grandma is taking my sister and me to the movie "Three Men and a Baby". I hear it's really good. I'm looking forward to it. We were going to see it on the 21st but there was a change of plans.

My grandma told me that she heard the baby liked Tom Selleck the best, and I've had a soft spot for him ever since.

1-4-88
Journal Topic: Over the holiday

On Christmas my dad dropped a razor blade on my brother's foot. He was cutting the string off of some doll clothes for my sister. The razor blade slipped and my brother was right under him. He's okay now.

Utility knives, mmm, maybe not the best Christmas gifts. My parents probably should have taken my brother in for stitches, but they didn't want to ruin the holiday. He was 3½ at the time and he cried and cried and cried and told everyone, "I don't ever want to have Christmas again!" Even after we let him have TWO hot chocolates.

I had a good holiday. I already wrote all my thank-you letters one night when I couldn't fall asleep. I wrote a whole lot of thank-you letters. I'm glad they're done.

My cousins, Bonnie and Jimmy came for a visit. Bonnie hasn't seen our house. We had her put blue lip-stick on.

My sister and I loved the shit out of that lipstick! I think it was leftover from one of our "punk rock" costumes.

We also went to Sea World with them my toes froze. My dad, my brother, Aunt Cindy, Bonnie, and I went to see the penguins when everyone else went ice-skating. We had fun.

"My toes froze" does not come remotely close to conveying how cold it was that day. So. Miserably. Cold.

Fifth grade's holidays were less bloody and more gifty:

9/19/98
ZAGGY TALES

We, meaning my sister and I, are writing a story called Zaggy Tales. It's about my grandmother, Maxine. She used to call herself Magazine. She was nicknamed ZAGGY.

My sister, Genie, and I are making this book, containing 6 stories. We are going to give it to my gramma for Hanukkah.

It's going to take a long time to finish ZAGGY TALES!

We have to:
Write the rough draft
Find a cover
Revise
Type final draft
Get photographs
Draw pictures
Bind book

I love how serious I was. Revisions? BINDING?! I'm pretty sure we just stuck it into a folder with brads.

12/9/88
Accomplished

We have finished ZAGGY TALES. It is typed, pictures glued, and bound. I can't wait till grandma sees it tonite at the Chanuka party

'BYE
SADA

I think I have a copy of Zaggy Tales back in Cleveland, where I happen to be heading next week. Let me know if you're interested in hearing Zaggy's actual tales. If I remember correctly, they involve Shirley Temple, fireplace implements, and general brattiness.

12/12/88
Hanukkah Party

At the Hanukkah Party I got a 'P'Jammer' which is an alarm clock and a radio with head phones, a Sylvanian family, and something else. Will didn't come because he was sick.

My poor little brother, screwed two holiday seasons in a row!

But let's take a look at those presents, shall we?


The P'Jammer. So p'astel. I think it matches the Hot Looks doll! And of course my Sylvanian family, the Wildwoods:


I had a rabbit collection. I know, I know, it's not nearly as cool as a unicorn collection.

The Sylvanian families had marketing material to rival the Hot Looks dolls. Like, check this out (not written by me, but by actual writing professionals):

Herb Wildwood loves to throw parties. He doesn't need a reason like someone's birthday or anniversary to invite all his family and friends around for a bit of a do!

Ginger Wildwood is a great hostess, famous for her legendary party food and especially for her spicy carrot and lettuce cake.

Rusty Wildwood is very, very musical. He can play most instruments well, but likes the trumpet and electric guitar best because they're loud and brash.

Hollie Wildwood is like her father and just loves parties, her favourite occasions being Christmas and New Year.

What. the. hell. Because all children dream of owning a party-planning rabbit named Herb?

12/16/88
!Christmas IS Coming!

So we got a Christmas [tree], wrapped Christmas presents (I've bought all mine already) and do Christmas-like things. EXAMPLE: We took out our Santa who plays songs, dings a bell, and is too loud*. We also put up our stocking. CHRISTMAS IS FUN!

*He is battery operated and there is no volume to use

I can't believe I found a picture of him! Keep in mind, however, that no picture can possibly capture his stilted shuffle or gratingly slurred version of "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town." He was a little creepy. And we loved him desperately.

1/9/89
Winter Break

I got these for Christmas:

An Indians jacket, a nightshirt, a robe, a pair of slippers, a book-holder, a bookmark, a curio house, a camera, film, and some stuff in my stocking. Best of all, I got a OUIJA (wee-gee) BOARD! I got a stuffed monkey (TARZAN) too.

Check out that jacket:

Stylin'! My dad and sister had the same one so when we went out together, we were like triplets. Really, really cool triplets. And one of us had a beard.

The Ouija board, however, was the gift that kept on giving... giving really inaccurate predictions, that is. One time in ninth grade the "spirit" even claimed to be Michael Landon, but I wasn't buying it.


Over Winter Break, I:
Saw Twins. (It was stupid. There was no plot.)
Saw DIRTY ROTTEN SCOUNDRELS (It was good).
Sled down our stairs.
CLEANED (Yech!)
Started writing 3 good stories, and other things I don't remember.

I've deduced that those "good stories" were The Sabrina Story, In the History of the World (coming up next!), and My Diary (coming in the new year, I swear).

So happy holidays, everyone! Though I'm not officially celebrating Hanukkah this year, I do plan on eating bagels and going to the movies on Christmas. Both of my halves are psyched!

NEXT TIME: Christmas comes to Friendship, and it is surprisingly unobnoxious.

Only in My Dreams

Last night I dreamed about this blog.

I'm serious.

Specifically, I dreamed that I found extra pages in the Syra Cuse story (but only a couple of extra pages, because I'm realistic even when I'm unconscious) and a book about a bunch of gymnastics whizzes who also happened to be quintuplets. There were even illustrations. (I think it goes without saying, but YES, they were awesome.)

Should I be worried about this? Do I need an intervention? How much blogging is too much???

Friendship: The Book

Once I realized I was writing a series, I knew I had to have a book that would prepare my readers for all of the boy craziness, girl bitchiness, and natural disasters that lay ahead. (All right, all right, so I never made it that far with the disasters. I still feel pretty confident that Friendship lies on a major fault line.)

I needed a Kristy's Great Idea, but by this time I had read Baby-sitters on Board! too, and I was powerless to resist the lure of the Super Special style. I mean, what better way to introduce my 100 characters than to let each of them narrate a chapter? Plus, the abundant narration might help to distract from the fact that my book had no plot. SOLD!

Actually, I'm not entirely sure what the plan was here, but I do have three chapters, each narrated by a different fifth grade girl. Bizarrely, while there are only three chapters, there are actually two drafts of the story in the folder. ?! It looks like I started a rewrite circa sixth grade. The differences between the two manuscripts are pretty negligible, put I'll be sure to point out any amusing changes.

Now, are you guys ready to start fifth grade? Again?

Friendship Books #1: Friendship Begins
#1: SYRA CUSE

Just the ten of us starring mom, dad, Toby, Syra, Gloria, Peter, Evie, Hope, Faith, and Patience Cuse. Today's show is about BBBBBBBIIIIIIIZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

The first edit happened right off the bat. Maybe Just the Ten of Us was passé by 1990? I don't know, but I rewrote the opening paragraph as:

I was right in the middle of a very good dream about a fairy godmother who was letting me change my name. "When I say the magic words and tap you on the head with my wand." she said. "You will have a new name." I nodded. "Abracadabra hocus pocus." she chanted. She leaned over and was just about to tap me on the head when-

BBBBBIIIIIZZZZZZZZZZ!!!!!

Combined, the intro paragraphs let us know that nothing much has changed with our old friend Syra Cuse: She still has an embarrassingly large family, and she still has an embarrassingly sucky name.

I leaned over and pressed the button to stop my alarm. Why does that always happen to me? Then I remembered, today was the first day of fifth grade and we were starting a new school today because our old one burnt down.

Apparently the school fire was a popular child author plot device. But hey, this presents something of a problem. This is supposed to be the first book in the series (as clearly indicated by the #1), and yet the preadolescent promo material for Syra Cuse describes events that happened prior to this: the Cuses moving to town, the birth of the triplets, etc. What gives? Well, either I was going to iron out these inconsistencies at some later date (probably the same hypothetical point in time at which I was going to finish writing all 852 of these stories) or, like any true series writer, I was prepared to throw chronological caution to the wind. Time was going to pass in Friendship, and at the same time it was not going to pass at all. Fifth grade 4-eva!

I heard mom walk into the bathroom and throw Toby's cat, Kal-Kan out. One of the triplets screamed and mom grumbled. I climbed down off the bunk-bed. I shook my 8½-year-old sister, Gloria. She opened her bright blue eyes and pushed her silky blond hair out of her face. Why didn't I look more like her?

"Friendship." said Gloria. She was wide awake. Friendship is the name of our new school. "I heard your alarm go off."

"Wake up Evie." I said as Gloria bounced out of bed. Evie (Evelyn) just turned 5 and she was starting kindergarten.

I ran into the bathroom [Dude! Mrs. Cuse must be the world's fastest pee-er!] before Toby or Gloria could. Mom was waking up Toby (13) and Peter (6). Peter is the homeless boy we adopted. [Told you so.] He was starting kindergarten too.

I heard my baby sister triplets, Hope, Faith, and Patience gurgling. They are nine months now. Well, 8½.

My mom insisted that the triplets should really be named Faith, Hope, and Charity á la 1 Corinthians 13:13. But I totally ignored her because the Guns N' Roses single "Patience" was hugely popular when I authored this. The Bible or G N' R Lies? Please! There's no contest.

It was then that I noticed that there was rain beating on the house. But there was no thunder or lightning. We get so many bad storms around here, but why today? Of all days? Who knows.

I walked out of the bathroom and mom said, "You're going to walk to school today." I gave her a look and she said, "Go get dressed." [The rewrite changed this to, "Go get dressed, Syra," which allows the next paragraph to actually make sense.]

Oh yeah, you pronounce my name Sara, but my geeky mother thinks it's cute spelling it S-Y-R-A since our last name is Cuse and I was born in Syracuse, New York. We are always moving. We moved here last year. I met Murphy McBrien last year when we were both new and my other friend is Chelsea Burroughs who has lived here almost all her life and is very rich. Some people think she is a snobbishly spoiled brat because she spends her money on clothes. She has very exotic tastes.

Huh, maybe this is why I like Chelsea's outfits. I too must have exotic tastes.

I helped dress Evie and we went down to breakfast. Gloria was long gone.

Dad was reading the newspaper. "The sewer system is clogged and they're supposed to start work tomorrow. Sure hope this rain lets up."

"Hello, my name is Foreshadowing. So nice to meet you!"

Yes, there was going to be a flood. I know this for certain because there's also a sheet of notebook paper in the folder that says:

Ideas:
1) There will be a flood

And that's the only idea. You can see why my stories never got very far.

"Wow." Toby said sarcastically. He is always grumpy when he wakes up. He still looks good. [Um, ew. Thanks, V.C. Andrews. You'll be happy to know that line got the axe in the rewrite.] He used to be real shy and skinny, but over the summer he got some muscle and loosened up. He has blond hair and blue eyes like Gloria.

"TOBEE." whined Evie [the rewrite adds: in her pathetic little voice. So much sisterly love!] "Are you gonna walk me to school?"

"No." I answered. "I am. Toby goes to the middle school."

"I can answer for myself." growled Toby. "I'm in seventh grade and I go to the junior high, but it's right down the street from your school, so I'll walk with you, but I'm going to walk with Chris too." I rolled my eyes, but it was a lie [in the rewrite it's a total lie] because I like Chris. He's stuck-up Michelle Brewer's big brother. He is really cute and popular and started hanging with Toby this summer.

There was a knock on the door. Little Miss Muffet [oooooh, burn!] ran to get it. She opened the door. It was Chris.

"Knocker out of order." giggled Gloria. She think it's hysterical because we don't have a knocker and our doorbell isn't working.

Little Miss Muffet is a big pain. I mean hear is great-looking Chris looking better than ever and Gloria says her stupid joke. I was so embarassed.

Chris just grinned his beautiful smile at Gloria and sat down right across the table from me.

I was dazed.

I'm in love.

Really.

Truly.

L*O*V*E.

Admit it, you guys have missed those asterisks.

#2: Murphy McBrien

KNOCK.

KNOCK.

KNOCK.

Toby opened the door. I turned to oatmeal. No, it was worse than oatmeal. I had melted into a slush puppy!


Now you all know how crappy I am at Photoshop. Actually, I'm lying. I don't even have Photoshop, so I was forced to whip that up in Paint. That's almost as embarrassing as Little Miss Muffet's "knocker out of order" joke. (Which I'm not sure I really get, by the way. Maybe you have to be in elementary school?)

"Come in, Murphy." he muttered. Was that a hint of love I heard there? Probably not. What would a nice, adorable, and sweet seventh grade boy like Toby Cuse be doing with a frizzy headed, clumbsy, boring [crossed out: vengeful!] 5th grade girl like me? Don't answer that.

Well, Murphy may have low self-esteem, but you can't really argue with her about the hair.

"Knocker out of order." Gloria yelled. What a stupid joke. My best friend, Syra, was sitting across the table from and staring at Toby's popular friend, Chris Brewer. He's OK.

My friend Casey recently e-mailed me the following hilarious quote from her elementary school diary, which she used to characterize one of the boys in our class: "He's not a dream boy, but he's not barf." I think this is a genius description, and one I'm going to try to employ more often. Therefore, Chris Brewer: not a dream boy, but not barf.

"Earth to Syra." I said. Syra looked up at me and turned red. She told me about her crush on Chris yesterday.

"Hi, Fee." She said. "Have a seat."

I sat down next to her and Evie and across from Gloria. I didn't want to be that obvious. I glanced at Toby.

Slush puppy, I thought to myself.


"Time to head out." said Mrs. Cuse.

Syra grabbed her backpack and umbrella. My hair was soaked and it must've looked like a frizzy mop from all the rain.

"Your parents actually let you walk over in the rain."

"Yeah." I said to Syra. "They go to work earlier now." My parents are high school teachers. I wanted to stick my frizzy mop head into her hall closet.

"Oh, yeah." said Syra. "Toby and Chris are walking with us today."

I almost fainted.

"OK." I said calmly. "I told Chelsea we'd meet her at the corner."

I can't believe I'll be walking with my dream boy.

I can't believe ANYONE is walking in this weather. What neglectful parents! Plus, who doesn't take their child—not to mention their adopted homeless orphan—to school on their first day of kindergarten? I was under the impression that was a milestone of sorts. Sandra and Carl, you are horrible parents. First the punchline name, and now this.

"Sure thing, Fee." said Syra. How could she act so uninterested?

I won't lose my cool.

The ten of us walked outside. Evie shrieked at the rain. Gloria knocked on the door and used her joke. Peter jumped into a puddle. I slipped and Toby caught me.

My hero.

I think I'm going to melt.

"TOBY AND MURPHY SITTING IN A TREE K-I-S-S-I-N-G." screamed Gloria. I was blushing furiously. Toby kicked Gloria. [What a sweet seventh grade boy!] He wasn't embarrassed.

It's hopeless.

I have no social life.

I want to sink into a puddle and die.

I really want to die.

I look at Toby.

Well, maybe death can wait!

Chelsea was at the corner, waving furiously. She was wearing a new black and hot pink jacket and a tight black mini skirt.

EXOTIC! Well, exotic dancer maybe?

She gets away with murder. She lives with her dad and he lets her do just about anything she wants. So Chelsea takes advantage of that.

I don't blame her.

We met Chelsea at the corner. She was chattering non stop until Gloria shrieked when the wind blew her dress up.

The wind was so wild now and we all had trouble walking except for Chelsea and the boys. [I don't know what Chelsea's secret is. Her miniskirt has wind-repelling powers, perhaps? She's actually the smallest of the three girls.]

Then it blew Chelsea's hot pink umbrella so far away that it was useless to chase it. Chelsea swore under her breath.

We closed our umbrellas.

There was a sudden gust of wind. I grabbed Peter, Syra grabbed Evie, and Toby grabbed Gloria. All of us ducked under a tree as the wind blew off a large branch that almost landed on Chelsea.

Terrible, terrible parents all around.

There was rumble of thunder and jagged lightning cut through the sky.

Someone across the street screamed.

A cliffhanger!

#3: M*I*C*H*E*L*L*E B*R*E*W*E*R

"Shut up." hissed Ellen, but we were all in hysterics.

I was walking to school for the first time. I had always been bused before, but we lived closer so now I could walk to our new school, Friendship. I was walking with my two best friends, Kristin Seals and Ellen Irving.

Kris had just screamed because she saw the Cuse's, Murphy McBrien, Chelsea Burroughs, and my brother walking to school.

She probably scared the life out of them.

"I wonder," said Kris. "How Syra, Murphy, and Chelsea are actually walking to school with Toby and Chris."

"Me too." breathed Ellen. "They're so cute."

Definitely not barf!

I gagged myself. My brother? Cute?

There must be some mistake.

"You guys are really some gross-outs." I said.

"Oh, give it up, Michelle." said Ellen.

"They're hunks." shrieked Kris [13-year-old hunks, yeow!], but I knew she wasn't too interested in them because she really likes Ryan Lorber.

"Completely." squealed Ellen.

"Gross-out." I muttered.

I glanced over at the Brady Bunch. I noticed Chesty's new outfit, complete with matching coat.

CHESTY?! Having seen the illustrations, I'm going to have to disagree.

"Check out Chesty's clothes." I said. "What a slut."

I promised you girl bitchiness, and by God, I'm going to deliver!

"I know." whispered Ellen. "She is such a spoiled brat."

"What gets on my nerves is her always showing off." said Kris.

"Tell me about it." moaned Ellen.

Crossed-out it says: Now we were tired of gossiping about the Geek-o's, Chesty mainly. That so needs to be added back in.

"Hey Ellen, your mom really let you walk when you might catch a COLD." gasped Kris, changing the subject like she always does.

We all giggled.

Ellen's mom is soooo overprotected.

It's totally grossed-out.

Just so you know, Michelle, your catchphrase is wearing awfully thin.

"Only one more block 'til school." Kris announced.

"You mean Friendship." I reminded her.

"Yeah, Friendship." Kris repeated.

"There is water squishing into my shoes and my toes are all gooey." said Ellen.

"Mine too." agreed Kris.

"You guys are complete and total GROSS-OUTS." I announced.

Okay, that time it was valid.

Ellen and Kris just giggled.

How immature.

Rain started to pour down.

"Raindrops keep falling on my head!" sang Kris.

"Will you two just shut up. You're being really immature and it's not funny." I said.

Oh, blah blah, Michelle. You're TEN! You're not supposed to be mature!

"Oh really." said Ellen. "Well, Miss Perfection, I can see how mature YOU are."

"I know you can." I told her.

"Michelle, give it up already. You're not pretty or sophisticated. You don't even get good grades like me and Kris. You're just one big bossy thinks-she's-perfect snob. Just like Chelsea Burroughs. Maybe even worse." screamed Ellen.

Damn, Ellen! It's like an insult volcano just erupted.

Worse?

Worse than Chesty?

Chesty Burroughs?

The biggests, richest, snobby, show-off, spoiled brat? [This sentence... I don't even know. Biggests?]

WORSE?????

That really did it.

"You are one big baby, Ellen. That's why your mom treats you like one." I said.

"DON'T TALK ABOUT MY MOTHER." hissed Ellen. I had never seen her this mad before.

Whoa. Either Ellen forgot to take her antipsychotic this morning, or she has been pissed off at Michelle for, like, years. Anyway, Michelle was clearly insulting Ellen, not her mom. It's not like she busted out with: "Yo momma's so stupid, it took her two hours to watch 60 Minutes." Or "Yo momma's so fat, she makes Shamu look like a tic-tac." Or "Yo momma's so stupid, she thought Grape Nuts was an STD."

Okay, okay, I'm stopping.

"I'll talk to you later Kristen." I said as I stomped off.

I'll never speak to her again.

Never.

I can't believe we were ever best friends.

What a brat.

I HATE ELLEN.

And that's where it ends. Although it looks like there was going to be not only a flood, but a DANCE as well. At least that's what this drawing seems to indicate:


Either that or Murphy and Chelsea are handcuffing Syra and carting her off to a fancy-dress girls' prison.

You can see that Chelsea's sugar daddy has once again scored her the best outfit. Syra's dress kind of looks like it went through a paper shredder and got sewn back together. And look! She's still wearing her friendship anklet! But I do like how Murphy and Syra are rocking varying degrees of side pony. Yes, girls, there's totally enough side pony to go around.

And even though this gives us serious proof of Chelsea's lack of chestiness, I will admit that Chesty makes for better name-calling than Little Miss Muffet, The Brady Bunch, and The Geek-o's combined.

NEXT TIME: Holiday-themed journal entries. Because there's no reason why we can't get festive and nostalgic.

Until then, you should definitely check out Deathycat's blog, Cradle to Coffin, for plotless playwriting, poo-filled poetry, and V.C. Andrews books re-enacted by Bratz dolls. It's even awesomer than it sounds.

Syra Cuse

I think the Cuses were the first residents of Friendship, NY. I don't mean back in colonial times or anything (in fact, as you'll read, they've only recently moved to town), just that I believe Syra and her family were the first characters that I relegated to Friendship-dom. This "book" appears to have been written before the series was even a twinkle in my eye. Well, okay, it might have been a twinkle—but the story is set in Buffalo.

SYRA CUSE
Chapter #1.

I always thought I had it real bad. My last name was Cuse. I was born in Syracuse, New York. So my mom thought, wouldn't it be cute if they named me "Sara". Except she had to go and make it cuter by spelling it "S-Y-R-A". So people think my name is "Seara". I wish my parents were normal. Then I wouldn't have to grow up with a dumb name like "Syra Cuse". I can't wait till I can change my name. Only 8 7½ 7 8 8 years to go.

Looks like I was having some math issues. Or deciding-on-the-age-of-the-character issues. Possibly both.

But anyway, I must admit Syra Cuse is a pretty dumb name. It may have been inspired by my discovery of the real-life naming tragedy of Ima Hogg, but I'm not sure. At any rate, it could be worse. Instead of Syra Cuse her name could be Crystal Chanda Leer, Amanda Lay, or April Schauer. And if she was a boy? Well, CRAP, it only gets worse! Dick Swett and Mike Hunt are just the tip of the iceberg. Buck up, Syra!

[Sidenote: I once dated a Mike Hunt for, like, three weeks. I have scads of bad-name cred. Feel free to nominate your worst real-life names in the comments!]

I actually didn't know that Cuse was a real last name until I started watching LOST. Maybe Carlton Cuse is Syra's uncle! In some story, somewhere, I had a character who claimed to be related to Debbie Gibson (total lie) and another character who was related to Richard Marx (for realsies), but she didn't like to brag.

We don't live in Syracuse anymore, thank god. We just moved to Buffalo this summer. School starts in 3 weeks. I'm nervous. I hate new schools. We move around too much. It's like I never make any friends. Well, I used to when I was just a little kid. Now there doesn't seem to be any point in it. To move away and feel bad about it. NO THANK YOU.

10-year-olds, so worldly.

I live with my mom. She just quit her job in Philadelphia as a secretary for the T.E.J. paper company. Because we were moving. It was just as well, she's pregnant again. Of course. I live with dad, too. He builds cars for Pontiac.

Actual parental occupations! Nuh-uh! I am now picturing Mrs. Cuse as Pam Beesly, but with a belly full o' baby. And I'm picturing Mr. Cuse in Michigan.

I live with Toby, too. He's my brother who's 12. He's a car maniac. He has car posters all over the walls. We can just be thankful there aren't naked women draped over the cars. [Consider me thankful.] I also have two little baby sisters, Gloria who's 7 and Evie (Evelyn) who's 4. I'm 10. Our cat, Smoky, just had babies. I guess I should take that as a good omen since kid #5 is on the way. My kitten, Paws, is white with tan on her tail, feet and nose. Toby's is Kal-Kan, Gloria, who got the pretty white one, named her's Milk, Evie's is Chocolate Bar, and Mom named the baby's Apple Sauce.

Those cats are making me hungry.

So, I didn't want to go to school. I had a nightmare Friday night. I dreamt I fell and hit my head on the way to school so I didn't remember anything, not even my name. Except the kids and teacher looked through my stuff and saw "SYRA CUSE" written all over and had a big fight over whether my name was "Seara" or "Sie-ra". I kept screaming those aren't my names, but nobody paid any attention... then I woke up.

Holy amnesia anxiety dream!

I almost fell out of bed. That doesn't sound so bad, but it is if you sleep on the top of a bunk bed. If I did fall and Gloria was asleep (she sleeps on the bottom bunk), I'd fall on Evie. Me, Evie, and Gloria share a room. There's a bunk bed. On the bottom there's this little drawer right off the floor. You pull it out and it's a bed. Well, a matress in a drawer.

I guess Evie sleeps on the mattress-in-a-drawer (or its complicated technical name, trundle bed).

There are 3 bedrooms in our house: Girls, Parents, and Toby.

Toby's room is really small. He's lucky it's his own, being a boy and all.

Yeah, enjoy it while you can, Tobe, because during the course of this book the Cuses were also going to take in a 6-year-old homeless boy who was just, you know, hanging around their house looking hungry. Homeless kids, they're kind of like stray cats!

Well, this morning when I woke up, it was dark outside. It was 8:03. [It's supposed to be August, so I'm thinking... not possible.] So, I went downstairs wearing a long T-shirt. My parents were sitting at the table. Dad was reading the paper. Mom was drinking a cup of coffee. I patted mom's stomach. She was so big already. [Because... she's having triplets! Surprise, Cuses! Your obstetrician is a total hack!] "I can feel him/her kick." I said.

And that's where the inspiration died. But not the babies! They were totally born. The preadolescent promo material reveals a few more plot points:

SYRA CUSE
Syra Cuse is sick of her name. Her whole life is a joke. They've just moved in and right away her perfect little sister [Gloria, whose perfectness was oh-so-subtly symbolized earlier by her pristine white kitten] has wrapped everyone around her little finger. The only thing that's going for Syra are her friends, Murphy and Chelsea. But everyone else thinks that Chelsea is conceited [she's loaded] and that Murphy stole some things over at Eleanor's house. [Eleanor Jefferson! Also loaded, but for some reason deemed not conceited.] So they stick Syra right in the middle. She knows Murphy is innocent and that Chelsea is rich, but she's still nice. But how can she explain that to her whole grade? [Hopefully by using a sentence that's phrased a little less awkwardly.] On top of everything else, her mom's having triplets. Her family is just the ten of us. How will she survive?

And if you think that's going to be the last Just the Ten of Us reference in my works, you are sorely mistaken.

Anyway, don't worry! There's more Syra Cuse action in Friendship: The Book, so we may as well get to know her and her friends a little better. I know, FRIENDS! Didn't see that coming!

First we have Syra, which, by the way, I cannot stop reading as the dreaded "Seara." Sandra and Carl, what were you thinking? (Those are her parents' names. I checked the town census. OH MY HOLY GOD, you guys! Carlton Cuse isn't her uncle, he's her DAD! And he produces the mindfuck that is LOST! This is amazing! Who's loaded now, Eleanor?) Um, but yeah, the character sketches:


My mom wrote a comment on the last post asking whether I disliked drawing hands. The answer is YES, thanks for asking. In fact, I had a problem with all appendages. As you can see here, I redrew Syra's hands and yet she still ended up with a freakishly undersized left extremity. Maybe that mass of friendship bracelets is blocking the flow of blood to her fingers, resulting in a lack of growth? She also has a friendship anklet—but it doesn't seem to have prevented her feet from morphing into bricks of flesh with teeny-tiny toe fringe. If I were you, Syra, I'd put some shoes on.

Also, you'd think that someone who hates her name so much would refrain from wearing T-shirts that that advertise it (see above her left not-yet-a-breast).

Next we have Chelsea. I loooooved the named Chelsea. One of my unborn children was slated to be a Chelsea at this point in time. Chelsea Burroughs appears to have a Stacey McGill–type perm going here, but honestly, guys? I'm kinda into her cowl-neck dress and crazy sunburst belt. Yeah, I would so wear that belt. But our fashion-forward pal is busting a serious deer in the headlights look. And we may or may not have caught her in the middle of the "put your left hand in" verse of "The Hokey Pokey."


But if Chelsea looks surprised, Murphy's on the verge of tears. Which makes sense given the false thievery accusations. Or the pain it must cause her stunted neck to support her massive, massive head. Beyond that, she has a nice late-'80s layered skirt on. Man, did I love those skirts. But now I'm confused: Does Chelsea have the perm or does Murphy? I think Murphy has naturally curly hair that she brushes when dry. WHY does no one tell you as a child not to brush your hair when dry?


Wait, is Syra the only one with friendship bracelets on? Well that's plain crazy, because we know she doesn't have any other friends! Unless she's given them to Paws and Kal-Kan.

I have one more picture before I go, and this one really showcases how far I'd go to avoid drawing limbs.

Or else some accident was going to render Murphy a serious amputee. Either way, Murphy Got Her Gun looks pretty appalled. You can also see that her last name used to be McGraw. That clearly had to be changed. Though I couldn't tell you why.

NEXT TIME: An alternate first day of school in the Friendship Super Special. Chapter 1's narrator? Syra "That's Pronounced Sara, My Mom's Just a Dumbass" Cuse.

Adria and Cynthia Tyler, the Characters Whose Books Have the Longest Titles Ever

Previously we met Adrianne Tyler, best known for her übershiny eyes and for masterminding acts of pseudo-vandalism.


(Hey, are those rhinestone-studded moccasins on her feet? I vote yea.)

But she looks surprisingly nondevious, don't you think? What would make a mild-mannered fifth grade girl act out in such a slimy-food-smearing and school-hating way? If you guessed "problems at home," well, pat yourself on the back, my friend. The Book Information file elaborates:

ADRIA TYLER, THE GIRL WHO HAD SOMETHING MORE THAN NOTHING

Adria Tyler has never been one of those people who think they have nothing. Adria knows she has something. Even though her father is dead, her mother can't find a job, one of her sisters wants to leave the country, the other one is pregnant, her brother refuses to speak, and her best friend tells her she's never speaking to her again, Adria won't give up. She can't. She's the only thing holding her family together.

Whoa! Those are, like, ACTUAL PROBLEMS! Granted, most of them aren't really Adria's problems per se, but they are problems all the same. Death of a parent? Teenage pregnancy, for crying out loud?! I, for one, am a little taken aback.

I even started writing the Kim vs. Adria fight scene:

"What?" shrieked Kim. "What do you mean? You promised, Adria. You promised you'd come over after school today."

"Sorry." I said sheepishly. "Really I am. It's just... mom went out for a job interview, and she needed a sitter for Mike. I'm sorry... you know how it is, Kim."

She lowered her eyes. "Yeah," she sniffed. "Your family always comes first with you."

I shrugged.

"You promised." she accused.

"Kim, I thought you'd understand." I argued. "I thought..."

"You thought what?" she asked coldly. "Did you think we'd be friends forever? If you did, you were WRONG." she yelled, yanking off her half of our "BEST FRIENDS" necklace. She threw it on the ground and stomped off.

FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! Oh wait, that's it. Guess the friendship pact has been violated.

But since Adria's family always comes first with her anyway, let's take a look-see at the Tyler family portrait.

They all look surprisingly upbeat, especially considering the hot mess described in the preadolescent promo material. Carolyn Tyler, a mother at 22 and an unemployed widow at 37? Well, yes, but if you believe her sweatshirt, also a SUPER MOM.

Then there's Julie, an entire Lifetime movie unto herself. In most versions of this story (which were written in my mind and not on actual paper), her baby daddy was Kim Fielding's 15-year-old brother, Roger. That's right, the one who served his little brother a snack of racquet balls topped with shaving cream. Try to push aside the frightening images of Roger giving the baby a dribble bottle for a second to ponder this: THAT DUDE WAS GETTING LAID?

In the family portrait, however, we see nary a baby bump. In fact, Julie looks like she's ready for the Homecoming dance or something. Check out the overly sweet sweetheart neckline. If that dress had shoulders, they would totes be padded.

Adria has even perked up for the, uh, drawing op. Yes, she still gravitates toward henleys and nondescript skirts, but check out her hip squiggle earrings. And she and Mike the Mute are so stoked, they appear to be floating in midair! Be sure to note the Mute's Chuck Taylors and brontosaurus shirt (or whatever they're calling the brontosaurus these days).

But it's 9½-year-old Cynthia (aka The One Who Hates the World) who is really the star of this portrait—mostly due to her sleeveless sweater dress, totally '80s triangle belt, and array of squiggly jewelry. You'd never guess that she spends her days coming up with highly unrealistic plots for sneaking out of the country. (More on that in a sec.)

But first, don't you want to see the layout of the second floor of their house? That was a rhetorical question—obviously you would love to! (Go ahead and click if you want to see just how bizarrely T-shaped Adria's room is.)



First off, how enormous is their house? You can fit about 10 full-size beds in Cynthia's room alone! Or 15 Def Leppard area rugs, one of which appears to be sprawled out on her floor. Uh, maybe the Tylers should think about downsizing, what with the prolonged unemployment and all. Just a thought.

Obviously I had never seen a blueprint in my life. My parents would always look at my floor plans and be all, "Where are the stairs? How about the closets? The doors?" Frigging realistic killjoys. As you can see, I tried to appease them by marking all the doors in this one. Closets and stairs were fraught with spatial complications that I was having no part of.

Then I started laying down some background info for each character. But naturally, I only made it through the first two.

INFO FOR ADRIA TYLER
Characters

Name: Michael Tyler, Mike

Hair: Dark Brown, messy, looks like it's never brushed, short

Age: 6

Eyes: Dark Brown, bright [It's hereditary!]

Best Friend: Mrs. Bottenhigher, his teacher

Likes: Mrs. Bottenhigher, school, T.V.,

Dislikes: Talking, the fact that dad died, questions

Wants to: Bring dad back, become a super hero, solve everyone's problems

Description: Small, timid, frightened of death, smart, couch potato, eager to learn about everything,

PLAGIARISM ALERT! The whole "child going mute after his dad dies" subplot was definitely lifted from the movie Scrooged. Bill Murray's secretary, portrayed by Alfre Woodard, has a son who has also stopped talking following his father's death. But he heartwarmingly/cheesily busts out the Tiny Tim "God bless us, everyone" line at the film's close. [Please note that most of Scrooged is not in the vein of cheese, and is actually fairly awesome.]

Naturally, Mike too would break his vow of silence, probably in the book's dramatic final scene. Or, oooooh, maybe Julie would give birth in an elevator—because that was always a very popular, yet disturbing, plot twist in '80s sitcoms—and Mike, through some plot contrivance stroke of fate would somehow be the only one with her, and be forced to deliver the child! I mean, if ALF can deliver a baby in an elevator, I don't see why a 6-year-old suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder can't. At the very least, it would call for some dialogue.

INFO FOR ADRIA TYLER
Character

Name: Cynthia Marie Tyler, call me Cynthia

Age: 9½

Hair: Brown, just above shoulders, side bangs(wavy), Eyes: Brown, soft

Best Friend: Alexis Creen

Likes: Alexis, creation pages [don't worry, we'll get to those], Def Leppard [in case the area rug didn't tip you off], writing

Dislikes: The world, school, usually my family,

Wants to: Sneak out of the country [um, hate to burst your bubble, Cynthia, but you'll still be in "the world"], help Alexis be more creative

Description: Cute, stubborn, creative, unusual, original, often loud, always shares ideas, can't keep a secret, [Yeah, that definitely won't be a problem when she tries to sneak out of the country.]

The rest of the stuff in this folder is Cynthia-related. You know what that means: creation pages and abject world hatred!

The world is a hateful lousy place. I wish you'd all drop dead. No one cares no one understands. I hate you all

Cynthia M. Tyler
C. Tyler
Cynthia Marie Tyler
C.M. Tyler
C.M.T.
C.T.
C.

The hell? Shouldn't she be coming up with aliases or something?

WAYS TO SNEAK OUT OF THE COUNTRY:

1.) SAY I'M MIDGET.
2.) PAY SOMEONE TO BE (FAKE) PARENTS.
3.) BRIBE!

WHAT I NEED TO DO:
1.) GET MONEY
2.) GET PASSPORT PICTURES TAKEN
3.) PACK
4.) GET CREDIT CARDS
5.) FIND SOMEWHERE TO GO!

Brilliant! I love how she's packing before she's even selected a destination. I think the midget thing could work if the Lightening Bolts are somehow working security at the airport. They'd probably also take a bribe.

And here's call-me-Cynthia's "creation page":

haiku

def leppard is cool
move to the beat of the song
radio blasting

Wow, she is really into Def Leppard. I have two Def Leppard–centric elementary school memories:

1) Playing "Pour Some Sugar On Me" on the jukebox at a bevy of Pizza Huts while on vacation. It was ALWAYS the #1 requested song, no matter the location of the Pizza Hut. Red light, yellow light, green light, GO!

2) Being in Gym class and tucking one arm inside my oversized Gym shirt to emulate the one-armed drummer. Which I might feel bad about if Rick Allen hadn't subsequently beat his wife with his remaining arm.

Sometimes I wonder by Cynthia M. Tyler

I wonder how the world got to be round
How people learned to be
How things make sound
and
How God thought of me

In case you haven't caught on yet, Creation Page = Unbelievably bad poetry.

C.M.T.

Creative
Young
No
Terrific
Horrid
Intelligent
Awful

Oh man, an acrostic, the sorriest excuse for a poem. Well, the H definitely doesn't stand for Humble, I can tell you that much. But what's up with No?

All By Myself

I'm all by myself and all alone
Sad as can be
I'm all by myself except
For me, myself, and I

Cynthia Marie Tyler...

Is smart, witty, wonderful, creative, nasty, cute in a way, true, and me

Nasty?

I'm 10

I'm 10 I'm 10
O Joy O Joy
The world is at peace
And I'm old enough to enjoy it

Because life cannot be enjoyed when you're a mere 9-year-old.

THE END OF CREATIVE PAGE

But it's not really the end, because all of this creative creativity was supposed to inspire Cynthia's boring friend Alexis to come up with some craptacular verses of her own. Here she is, Alexis Creen:


I was always drawing them in the most natural poses, wasn't I? Here, for example, Alexis is getting ready for her crucifixion. With braces!

ALEXIS'S CREATION PAGE

Attentive
Learning
Economical
X-tra Special
Intelligent
So-so

Oh, Alexis. I know I made fun of Cynthia's inflated ego, but So-so? Attentive? Economical??? That's the best you could come up with? More like Arid, Easily influenced, and Self-loathing. But on the bright side, maybe she can help Cynthia save up for her big trip.

Action-packed fun for everyone
Starring Alexis L. Creen
And some other people too

Huh? My best guess here is that Alexis was an aspiring actress. And this was the poorly titled film that would make her famous?

Christmas is a time for
Giving
Loving
Caring
Sharing
And
Getting everything you ask for

Nothing like a little holiday brattiness cheer.

Famous

If I was famous (I will be soon) I'd be happy to sign autographs for my adoring fans. They would be happy that I was famous instead of them. (Ha ha)

C$R$E$A$T$I$O$N

THE END
OF ALEXIS'S FAMOUS CREATION PAGE

And the end of the hodgepodge contents of this folder. Egad. It's amazing that hatred for the entire earth managed to be the more lighthearted topic here.

NEXT TIME: We'll try to follow a more linear narrative with Syra Cuse. God willing.