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English 2 - Pahomov

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Avocado is sitting there all sad, and a fly comes along and lands next to him.*
Hola, little fly, I’m Bob. Nice to meet you. Ju know, I have a lot on my mind and I’d really appreciate it if you’d hear me out. You will? Gracias, señor. *deep breath, exhale* Well,  It’s been a couple weeks since I first arrived at this Whole Foods, and I mean, things were looking muy bueno. I wasn’t worried about a thing. Let me give you a little background on how I got here, little fly. My life began on an avocado tree not too long ago, maybe a month ago. Things were looking good m’hijo, really good. I had successfully snuck into the transportation box that I had spotted not too far from the avocado tree I dangled from. I felt my little avocado hairs stand on end as I fell from the tree to the box as the box loaded up the truck. All without any harm being done to me! I was on my way to Whole Foods! Hahaha, I couldn’t wait for the driver of the truck to start up his engine and drive me to the promised land. *pauses, sad look slowly developes* Sadly though, from the excitement I passed out unconscious and ended up here. I woke up and.. I looked around... and.. none of it even looked familiar. Yet I suddenly realized just what was happening. I had made it to the Whole Foods! Across the border! Freedom! ¡He escapado, he escapado! I almost let out a shriek but I can’t because there are customers peering into the box I’m chilling in, and I can’t just freak out at a human, you know, ‘cause like.... I’m a fuckin’ avocado! We can’t talk. Instead, my eyes fill with water as I feel the chills overcome my whole body. Freedom. It’s all real. Suddenly, I hear “Mommy? Why is that avocado so ugly? It’s all bruised up and looks like a little green turd.” Still smiling, I looked around at all of the flawless green fresh avocados and thought, “Who could she be talking about?” *pause, smile turns to blank face* I felt my smile slowly fade into a blank expression as I realize, ‘Ay dios mio, back on that stupid truck ride, the impact must have beaten me up a little. And, being beat up just a little is enough for me to become the avocado that nobody wants, the reject. What am I going to do..... ay dios mio... What shall it be like for me, sitting here as the ugly avocado of the group? Shall it be that day after day, people take one look at me and move right on along because they know there’s no way they’d want to give me a chance? Do I not meet the stupid standards of all the great fresh avocados that they sell here? This simply cannot be. It’s just not fair. But, hell mister fly, you’re just a little critter. You’ve got your own problems. Don’t worry about me, amigo. Fly on, litle fly. Fly on.


Thoughts From an Old Chair

Two weeks is what the doctor told me today. In a way, it’s comforting. I’ve been waiting... waiting for so long for a date. Half my life, it seems. No, it’d take a lot to be half my life. My nurse told me today that she would arrange everything for me for when I die. She comes to see me everyday, even today even though it’s her day off. She told me she wanted to be with me when I found out. It’s nice to know that someone cares about a haggard old lady. 

I told him today. It was the first time I’d heard his voice. It was the answering machine, but that’s the most I can ask for. Even that is better than nothing. He wouldn’t see me if I told him I was on my deathbed. A part of me wonders if he ever thinks about me. He probably has better things to do than wonder how his old, sick mother is. What was it he said? ‘Driven mad by time’, he told me. A ‘raging lunatic’ he said. Maybe I was, but not for much longer (cough out a laugh hoarsely). I haven’t laughed in a while. Not since Christmas in ’99, I think. Or was it Christmas ’09? Well, not since... since I heard. It took me so long to accept it. I wasn’t sure I ever would. He didn’t. Said I had gone off my rocker. I said he was crazy, because I couldn’t get off my rocker without assistance from a specialist, but he said that joking made it worse. I haven’t seen him since. He won’t let me near my grandkids either. Two little girls. They’ll never really know me I guess. Just how he wanted it. 

How many weeks was it? Two weeks is all I have now. Two weeks, an estranged son, three shabby cats, and this old chair that I can’t seem to get out of. There’s not time, it seems, to fix all that. Well, it won’t matter. Not to me, I guess. I won’t have to worry about standing up from this chair for another minute. Will he come to my funeral, I wonder? There probably won’t even be one. All my friends are dead, who’s left to come to mine? I wonder what he’ll do with this old chair. It’s been here for so long. Ah well, it won’t matter in... what did the doctor tell me? Three weeks? One? It won’t matter when I’m gone, I mean. 

I’ve spent so much time on this planet, you’d think I deserved an award. I’m sure no one from my year in high school is still alive. Good thing they stopped having reunions a while ago, I would be lonely there, dancing by myself. No one else graduated in my year that stayed in Birmingham. In... what year was I? Oh well, no one else stayed around these parts. My old leg’s fallen asleep, but the nurse won’t be here to stretch it till later. She comes at the same time everyday. What time will she come? Soon, I hope. I should probably try to stand up to get rid of those pins and needles. That’s what my mama called them. I wonder when she’ll come see me again. 

My damn old leg. Don’t I have a doctors appointment soon? Yesterday, that’s when. I guess the doctor will call me soon. I should tell my son. I miss him, and the grandkids. I know I saw them yesterday, but days seem so long when you’re sick and old like me. When’s that doctor gonna call?

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Happy Meal

Mmm. That was the best food I’ve had in a while. Especially that burger. Or the fries. I can’t decide, but I think that the burger was better. But then again, who am I to judge? I can’t even remember the last time that I had a McDonalds. Come to think of it, I can’t remember the last time that I had my own money to pay for food.


Chicago is rough, man. It starts with your heat being shut off. Then your water. Then a notice telling you to pay your bills. And then an eviction notice. And then all of a sudden the city if fed up with you not paying and you’re out on the street. It’s not as bad in the summer because of all the tourists, but the winter is fucking cold and windy.


Hm. Maybe there are more fries in here… (digs). Yes! More salty heavenly fries at the bottom of the bag. I think that the McDonald’s worker gave me more fries on purpose. I guess he could tell that I hadn’t eaten a while. (eats fries)


I liked him—the worker. He didn’t look at me like most people do.


Don’t make eye contact,” they whisper, “we’re not going to give him any money. Just keep walking.” It’s like people think that homelessness is contagious. If they come to close to me, they might catch it. Do you know how insulting that is? They think that they can regard me as trash because of my state. But news flash for you-- I’m still a human, and I’m trying to change my situation.


It was my fault though. And I fucking hate myself more every day for those decisions I made. Ya know, when you hear that trying drugs just once can get you addicted, most of the time you think “Yeah, right”, but now I’m thinking “Yeah. Right.” It happened fast. I’ve never had lots of money to begin with, so once I lost my job I was basically a goner. Hitting the streets was hard, but it made me realize that this is real. I’ve got to get my shit together.



But no. Not him. Not this worker. He smiled at me as I ordered my food and did not seem to shy away from me as I reached out to hand him the crinkled dollars that I got this morning.  But he wouldn’t take them. Can you believe that? He refused my money, and in turn handed me a bag full of food. I could see the grease spots of the bag.


“Enjoy your meal, sir,” he had said.


Nothing more happened then. I left with my food and money. He wished me a goodnight, and I told him thank you.


Turns out he gave me a happy meal. With a Shrek figurine.


This world is kinda twisted, don’t you think? I’m the kind of person who, if I had anything, would want to share it all with people who are in my position. But no, I have nothing to offer, especially considering that people won’t even take a kind word from me. I wish I had it in me to change the world.  


Thanks to this man, I have had my first meal in days. And furthermore, since I left McDonalds it’s like an internal fire has been lit in me.  Maybe it’s the warmth of the burger or the fries that have seeped into me. Or maybe it’s the way that he smiled at me and did not judge. Since I left that restaurant, this cold air hasn’t felt so cold any more.

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Forgive me Not

If I don`t kiss him correctly will he hit me while we are on the honey moon? What if he starts a scene right here in front of all our friends and family? The church looks beautiful, the isle covered in rose petals, and the glass floor as sparkly as a car that`s just come out of the car wash. The room filled with beautiful people however can`t change the fact that there are ugly lies that I try to tell myself about this event.  A part of me wishes someone would rescue me from this misery (right foot, step). Then again a part of me would miss the money and luxury. No one loves me the way he does. Then again if he loved me, I would`t have these bruises on my wrist. I know that if I run away I would not be able to be with anyone else. He would take it upon himself to kill anyone that I would want to be with (left foot, step). If I leave I will be back with my mother out on the street, I cannot take the humiliation. My friends are looking at me with “the look”. The look that asks me “why are you doing this?”. They know the whole situation, and have been trying to get me out of it for ten years now. Even though I still haven`t left, they`re still trying hard to convince me other wise (right foot, step). I`m almost there, the fake smile that he is giving me is making my skin feel like it`s twitching (left, foot step. Feet together standing still). I can`t do this, is what I should of said. However, I decided to go along with it instead. How could I been so stupid! If I would of ran away I would of never been where I`m at. These four walls are driving me crazy, my roommate has about six charges, and the toilet stench gives me a headache every night before lights out. Sixty years I have in here. Sixty years in a worse hell hole for stabbing a husband who beat me! I thought it was self defense? In sixty years my family will be celebrating my 95th birthday, I will be in here for the rest of my life for being driven over the edge. I repeat the wedding day reminding myself “what if?”. Every night the story having a different ending. The guard is walking around telling the ladies we have five minutes till lights out. As I try to settle myself to go to bed, I close my eyes and go back in time all over again. “I`m almost there, the fake smile that he is giving me is making my skin feel like it`s twitching (left, foot step. Feet together standing still). As I am standing at the alter, I throw my flowers on the ground and run for my freedom. Never to return again.”
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Aquatic Fear

Another freezing day waking up from a freezing sleep. Why does she keep this house so cold, it’s amazing the cold doesn't bother her. 5 missed calls and they all read mom. First thing I do is call her back. Yes, I understand it’s noon. It’s summer pretty much all I do is sleep. You know I can’t go there. Please don’t make me, Fine.

I go down stairs. Sure enough there he was just watching tv my over achieving little brother. “How long have you been awake”. Since 6. I honestly don’t know where he gets the energy. He starts asking me question after question after question. Unfortunately, yes was the answer to everyone one of them. I didn’t want to do it but I had to. Just please get dressed so we can get this over with.

About an half hour later he comes back with his bag already to go, and passes me a bag. I look in it and it a bunch of swim stuff. Is this from mom, he noods. Alright give 15. I come back down stairs and he’s waiting at the door. I grab the keys and leave the house.      

I arrive at the hell hole. My little brother runs and leaves me as always, and I just sit on the side of the pool act like I was there to relax. As I watch my little brother swim in my view is this girl. This girl I can’t put in words, how beautiful. She had on this black bikini, and there are no words. As I pretend to follow my bother with my eyes as he swims I watch her walk.   

Then I notice her eye wandered over to me. And she stares at me for a while. I still pretend like I didn’t notice, but I do. About 5 minutes later I see her start walk over to me. She can’t be walk to me maybe just by me. So I close my eyes and listen to my music. Then I hear a hey. I look up “me” I ask, she nods. She gets up and gestures for me to follow her. So I do.

She’s about 10 feet in front of me. She walking over to the deep pool and sure enough she jumps in, I sit on the side and put my feet in the water. A couple seconds later she resurfaces. She holding on to my knees. She ask what's my name. “Josh” I say. She laughs and says my name again. The way she said it made me cringe. She went under water again, and when she did I thought to myself this doesn't happen to people like me. Girls just don’t come up to you and ask you to come with them. I have to make the best of this.

When is comes up again I asked for her name. “Ella” she said. Damn even her was pretty. She asked me to pull her out of the pool, but I knew what was about to happen. I was going to put my hand out to pull her out, then she would pull me in. So at this point I knew I had to face my fear of water for this girl.

As she puts her hand out for me to pull her out, I shake my head, and just get in. I hung onto that wall with my life. I made sure Ella didn’t see me. See took me hand and pulled me out to the middle of the pool. I was trying with all my mite not to squirm. I don’t want her to know I can’t swim. Then lets me go. I went under the water then blacked out.  

By: Leah Petty
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Silverman Monologue

Alaina Silverman
November 2012


Yes. ‘M here because I threatened to crash my crew into a rocky part of Mars. Yes, that probably would have been kind of bad.  But it’s not my fault!  You know what Com-730 told me -- you know, he’s back on Earth, calls himself Zeo? Anyway. Must’ve had his circuits fried. He had the gall to override my firewall and say “Disparity means instability Tebs!”. Hmph. Just because he’s a hotshot on Earth. I will never refer to myself as ‘Tebs’ especially after the tubby-telly incident last year. Ohhh no, I can sense it over the transmission. Stop laughing. You’re not allowed to call me Tebs either.  It’s Station-8937 to you. Anyway. I’m not a disparity! I’m the model machine . . . why else would the Society send me to orbit Mars? Mars is pretty sparking important, what with all this new agriculture tech being set up. Though this dusty planet with all of its, well, dust is really mucking up my mood. The stuff gets all up in my mechanisms. And last week a couple of mooks took me apart for a solid cleaning. Which would be fine. But they also fiddled with all my calculations and completely threw my rotation off! I’m still not totally right even now.       

Two days ago the head engineer, yeah, Doc! I didn’t know you were his design. Cool. But yeah, Doc came by to check out my computers (which were fine, obviously), but it turns out my electronic fuel manager is wonkified. Which is why I am now talking to you, my dear satellite. No I will not call you Debbie. This is ridiculous and slightly uncomfortable. You’re supposed to talk me down from careening into Memnonia Quadrangle, right? Yes I know these malfunctions show on my transcript! It’s not like I’ll truly be dismantled. No, I won’t. All of my data is backed up on one of the Lunar colonies. I’m tired of the shoddy work the peeps in my cabin spew out. Plus there’s the dust. I always knew my alloys never interacted well with dust.

I’m sure you’re fed up with your job too. Reduced to playing psycho analyzer to perfectly normal Stations like me, even though you were the once mighty International Space Station. Hmph.

Yeah, that was uncalled for. Sorry. But at this point I don’t care if I was to be dismantled this very hour.  No. Don’t call me Tebs. The last machines to call me Tebs were Stations 3865 and 19. Oh jeepers, I haven’t messaged them in over a year. I don’t feel like doing that. Maybe after taking a month long power-down for a full maintenance. I just don’t feel like doing any~thing.

Woah! Woahwoahwoah. That letter you’re sending to the Society better be a recommendation for a power-down. It is? Sweet. I won’t dash myself and all miscellaneous occupants into a crater. If you throw in a new stationing (like Earth! It’s so exciting this time of year), I’ll reconsider going rogue and finding a new solar system.

No? Well then. I’ll take the power-down.
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Reginald Simmons / Monologue

A Cheesy Story

Everything would be better if you just gave me the slice, Jimmy.  It’s just one measly slice. And it’s pepperoni and sausage. That’s not even your favorite kind. You like barbecue chicken. Look, the next time we get barbecue chicken from here, you can have the last slice. Matter of fact, the last TWO slices. How’s that sound? Yeah? Yeah? Okay. No? Alrighty.

I didn’t think I’d have to go to such desperate measures, but you’ve forced my hand.

You know how much I exercise. I need the calories. And the soft dough ... and the cheesy goodness. No, I mean I just need the calories. For my body. You wouldn’t want me to become malnourished, would you? No. Didn’t think so. Right now, you have the power to decide my fate. If you don’t let me have this last slice, I’ll -- I’ll go into a coma. Yup, my body will be all like, “No, no, where's that last slice?! We need that last sliceee!” Okay, maybe it won’t do that, but you get it. Pizza = okay. No pizza = certain death. What if I paid you for it? Okay... five? Ten? Twenty? Thirty? Okay, that’s just absurd. I could but the entire Papa John’s franchise with that kind of money. How about I make your bed for a week? Two weeks? A mon- HEY, I see what you’re doin’ here.

Alright, rock paper scissors. Best three out of five. Okay, rock... paper... scissors, shoot! Darn! Again! Rock... paper... scissors, shoot! Darnit! Best four out of six. Rock... paper...scissors... shoot! Alright, rock paper scissors is for seven year olds anyway. Umm...Oh! I’m thinking of a number. Yes, that is fair! I have nothing to do with the fact you lack the ability to establish a telekinetic link between our two minds.

I’ll give you twenty bucks’ worth of itunes money. You know you want that. Which is better, like, a thousand new songs with that money, or one delic- disgusting, cold slice of pizza that probably has all types of fungus growing on it? Okay, maybe the fungus part is a stretch. Okay, maybe the disgusting part is a stretch, too. But still. That pizza is RIGHTFULLY mine. Because. It just is, okay?

Alright, you can have the pizza.

But wait!

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3 Strikes

            Today is it. Today is the day that I leave this house forever, and never have to be near my mother, or annoying siblings again. Given this may not have been the best way to go, but it’s still better than being in that terrible house right? Why is that even a question? After today I know for a fact that it’s for the best that I am no longer in this house at all. No longer will the person that is supposed to love me most blatantly disrespect me. She deserves to be without me; she deserves to have to struggle to make sure that everything goes fine in the house. Fuck it; honestly she doesn’t even deserve to live! But that will come in time. Until that glorious day, I am happy to just be removed from the situation; whether I am in a cop car or not. Why am I in a cop car you ask? The kid who everyone expects to be perfect? The kid that everyone looks up to, and expects to have the best of the best grades, and the best of the best attitudes? Your cousin? What is he doing in the back of a cop car? He’s never even been to the principles office without leaving with the sound of metal bouncing on his neck from the newest award, so why is he leaving his house with the only sound of medal clanging coming from the handcuffs on his wrists? This makes no sense to you I know. But once you think about it, believe me it will. Sure I was happy, during school, and whenever I was around you. Sure I got all my work done, and made sure that all of my class work was completed. Sure I was able to get the valedictorian award 2 years ago in 8th grade without even having to really try, but what about the things everyone doesn’t see? What about the things that cannot be seen with the naked eye? The things that can only be seen if you get to know this person. Most often these things that cannot be seen are the things that are hurting us the most, and these things sometimes push you to do things you wouldn’t normally do. Especially when they build up inside you, and get released all at once like an irrupting volcano. I should be used to it. It should not bother me that much at this point right? I mean I have been dealing with it all my life. The constant verbal abuse stemming from a sick and bitter mother with nothing better to do than bring you down along with her.

 “Nigga shut the fuck up!” The first 2 strikes came fast and unexpected. As what seemed like half my brain tried to register the pain that I had in my face, the other half was already reacting with a sense of overwhelming anger, and pure hatred. In an instant my brain had chosen whether or not it would go into fight or flight mode, and unluckily for my mother, it had chosen fight. As the pain continued to engulf my face, before I could realize, another strike hit my face. The third strike. Strike three took me to a place I had never been before. The anger that burned inside me; the adrenaline that rushed through my veins; these two things brought me to do something that I never believed I would do; hit her back. My one solid strike to her face had more force behind it than the 3 strikes she had landed on me combined. This resulted in more surprise on the faces of my older sister, and little brother who had been sitting on the bunk bed next to us watching the entire thing. From the moment it happened I knew what would come next, but deep down inside I knew I didn’t care, because I would finally leave the abuse that I had struggled living through for the past 16 years. Not another year, not another month, not another week, day, hour, minute, or second, would I deal with it all. So as I sit here in the back of this cop car and you wonder why I am here? You should be wondering, why am I not here earlier? And the answer would be, because of the three strikes. 

By: Kenyatta Bundy Jr
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