Lynsie Lucas

Sean King

Benjamin Chandler

A —

Sam Becker

English

I woke up at my own funeral—again. This is getting old.

Third time this month I woke up and saw myself lying dead in a coffin before hearing the priest pray over me at my funeral. I felt like I was a soap opera character, apparently getting killed over and over again.

I woke in a panic, then rubbed my face and sighed. Clearly these nightmares have to do with my bad habits. I declared then and there that I would clean up my act. No more

huffin' gas in the shed behind the Shell Station! I quit my job at Shell & decided to clean up my act. It wasn't easy. I found myself smelling all sorts of stuff—Sharpie markers, vents outside the hospital, expired cold cuts. I needed something else to fill the void—but what?

And then I figured it out! Isopropyl alcohol— I could keep cleaning up my act and clean my surroundings. I got a job as a sanitation worker in a lab, spraying and wiping down every surface I could reach. The fumes and the dopamine rush from cleaning worked just as well!

I cleaned until my skin cracked. Until my joints throbbed. Even the meat of my palms ached. But what did I care? I was saved. I spotted my reflection in a nearby monitor—hair in my face, sweat dripping from my brow. Clearly I was only making others clean but that was good enough.

Coming Clean

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Logan Pengelly

Eric Bonhomme

Every once in a while I Google the name of my first girlfriend, Julie Schneider, just to see what comes up. You won't believe what I saw when I searched her name last Wednesday.

Julie was piloting a chase drone that was following the billionaires capsule as it landed in the Gulf of Mexico.

She grabbed the capsule, wondering what to do. (it had no lid) then she realized! It. Was. A. Bomb. She spotted wires on it. She

threw it to Zach and squeezed her eyes shut.
“Oh come on,” he fumbled for wire cutters in his pockets. “You know I can’t tell which one is red!”
“Just guess!” She was now hiding her face with her hands, as if that would prevent her from going up with explosion.

And then boom! She decided to start eating bolognese pasta. She has a love-hate relationship with this dish. But the red colour of the sauce reminded her of mum's favourite flower.

Bite after nostalgic bite she consumed the spaghetti with increasing fervor, eventually lifting the plate to slurp the remaining sauce. She saw the world now through rose-colored glasses just as they said she would. Ecstatic, she leapt from the table and charged into her future.

@a—

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Lifetime lines written

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