This is the third part of a series loosely inspired by the structure of Simeon Berry's Ampersand Revisited. The series is titled The Completely Accurate Story Of My Real Friend Bargo Whitley.
Why does my house burning down have to mean something tragic you ask Ms. Reyland during our weekly creative writing workshop Maybe I never liked my house Maybe my mother never bought me the type of cookies I likes so I burned it down my damned self
How is that not tragic? Ms. Reyland asks Everything you've ever loved is burned away because your mother couldn't afford some oatmeal raisin cookies?
Oatmeal Raisin!?! knocking your own folder to the floor Oatmeal raisin? Oatmeal raisins aren't cookies They're a delicious mud of sugar and flour that some asshole has shoved a piece of rotten fruit in
Had anyone in class existed from the waist down until that day? Ms. Reyland had always asked us to take our seats never to sit our butts down never to park it We had all been torsos hovering over our plastic chairs Our whole lives we'd walked on our hands Nobody in that class had ever considered the smooth lumps of fat and muscle that you so callously split in half and cored in front of the whole class
Bargo Ms. Reyland said though she was looking not at you but at the ceiling that word is not allowed in this or any classroom?
What? Raisin? you asked You're the one who brought it up I don't ever want to have to use it again either
An ongoing conversation between writers and the text that they're reading.