High School Musical (5 year class reunion)

Image Credit: Alexis R., Clarkdale, AZ The author's comments: I did this with three of my friends (I played Gabriella) but I'm too embarrassed to post it on Facebook. Tell me what you think! "Wow, man," said the well-known boy in the afro and sarcastic t-shirt, "It's great to be back to East High. What Te-" his cheer was stopped by a familiar, but chubby, boy in a red #14 jersey that was ripped a bit at the seems because of his, well, growth. He was also holding a bag of puff corn in his hand. "Troy!" Chad yelled, hugging Troy's gigantic stomach, "I'm so happy for you! Aw, I think he's kicking!" Troy threw Chad's baseball cap to the floor, "Dude! I'm not pregnant!" Chad scrambled to the floor and immeadiatly got back up in fear that this jumbo may sit on him. "Oh, sorry dude. Well then, how have you been?" "Fat." "Oh...I see. Well, it's still good to see you. How's basketball been at Berkely?" Troy paused as he chewed his salty puffcorn, and with a full mouth, said, "Berkely doesn't support sports anymore, but on the bright side, I starred in Fat Albert last winter." "Oh sweet! Who'd you play?" "Fat Albert." There was an awkward pause. This is probably where the laughter would be if this were a sitcom. To break the pause, a girl with black hair, a black dress, a black hat, black tights, and black make-up walked up to them. The boys' jaws' dropped. "Gabriella?!" they yelled simaultainiously. "Yes, indeed." she said just above a whisper. Her cute-factor was gone, and apperantly replaced by something between creepy and complete outcast. "H-h-how have you been?" Chad stuttered. Troy just stared while chomping down more puffcorn. "Oh, busy. At Stanford, I went from class, to studying, to dark alley ways where the Dark eye-liner cult met, to dealing pot. It's pretty busy." The boys just stared for a few minutes. The only thing you could hear was Troy's snacks rattling around in the plastic brightly colored bag. Randomly, Gabriella walked away. They just assumed it was to meet up with some other alumni, but in reality, it was to deal more pot. After a while of catching up, another familiar girl came up, but with books in her hand. She didn't look any different; scarier or fatter. Just the same, and just as dumb. "Hey, Sharpay!" Chad exclaimed, "Great to see you!" She began to run in the other direction but she ran into Troy's flub and fell over. Chad picked her up. "Uh, hey guys. H-how are you two?" she looked nervous. "What's wrong?" Troy said with a mouthful of food. "Oh, uh nothing." she said. "Hey Sharpay," Chad said, "How come you don't have one of these handy dandy name tags like the rest of the alumni?" "Um, alumni?" she asked. "Yeah, the people who gratuated. We all got name tags in case we don't look the same as when we last saw each other." "Well, uh actually...um" "Spit it out." Sharpay got all red-faced, "Um, I actually didn't graduate. I didn't get a real deploma, I just wrapped up one of my Teen Vogue magazines and put white paper around it..." They were silent. Then they burst out laughing until Troy dropped his chip bag. He couldn't see the floor so he accidentally slipped on it. A man serving drinks tripped over him, and Chad slid on the drinks into the food table. It fell over, including the flambee' being made. So fire burst out all over the school. Luckilly everyone got out alive, but Troy never got his puffcorn back. THE END! -Mel Daysinger.



ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: We All Walk the Same (My Father in the Rain, pt. 2)

We take a plane to Des Moines. My uncles and cousins and my aunt are there and everyone wears suits and black dresses in the town where Grandpa was born, where the sidewalks are gray and crumbling, where the names on the headstones sound like mine. Like his. Like ours. Robert Hoekman Jr thinks you … Continue reading ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: We All Walk the Same (My Father in the Rain, pt. 2) →

DMITRI CHRISTOPHER: Shadows

Where is he? Take a happy memory, old, rarely visited. Imagine it as a painting, oil on canvas. See the subjects, how they laugh, smile, dance. One does not. Follow that gaze to the dark corners. Someone casts a long shadow, out of view. There he is. The Shadow Man.

ROBIN D ANDERSON: Watching

“Pa! They’re here.” “Who?” “The crows.” “Jeez, Ma, give it a rest.” “They’re watching.” “What?” “The garden, just waiting for the plants to grow, ripen.” “Ma!” “Then they’ll do their dirty work.” “Yer crazy, cut it out!” “Pa! One landed!” “Wait, Ma, no! Come back. Heck! Crow for dinner again.” Robin writes in the odd … Continue reading ROBIN D ANDERSON: Watching →

ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: My Father in the Rain (My Father in the Rain, pt. 5)

At the cemetery, I look at my father in his dark suit and dark shoes and I see a drop of water on his cheek and I think it might be a tear. But then I think no, it’s only the rain. And then it rains and rains and rains. Robert Hoekman Jr thinks you … Continue reading ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: My Father in the Rain (My Father in the Rain, pt. 5) →

ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: See How Much It Weighs (My Father in the Rain, pt. 3)

When someone can’t show up, my uncle asks me to be a pall bearer. I carry Grandpa to the ground with five men I don’t know. Grandpa who used to snatch my nose with his thick mechanic fingers. Grandpa whose skin is like rubber. I carry him to the ground. Robert Hoekman Jr thinks you … Continue reading ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: See How Much It Weighs (My Father in the Rain, pt. 3) →