“There’s one,” she said, pointing.
“Where?” she said. “I don’t believe you.”
“Right over there,” she insisted. “Look at him.”
She looked. “Well,” she said after a moment, “I suppose you’re right.”
“It was a little difficult to find him,” she said, not wanting to rub it in.
“A little,” she agreed.
“But the important thing is that we found him.”
“We sure did,” she said.
– A Good Man Is Hard To Find, Flannery O’Connor
“Why, today is a perfect day for bananafish,” he told the little girl. “But it’s also a perfect day for people.” Later, he talked about his feelings with his fiancé, and didn’t shoot himself.
– A Perfect Day For Bananafish, J.D. Salinger
“Which one should we get?” she asked him.
“Well, what do you think?” he said.
“Can I pick any of them?”
“Of course,” he said. “We’re choosing this wallpaper together, and I would never lock you up. Both of us are free to use any of the rooms in our house, even though it’s the 1800s.”
“In that case,” she said, “I like the yellow one best.”
“I agree,” he said. So that’s the one they bought. Later they both went outside, because they were both allowed to.
– The Yellow Wallpaper, Charlotte Perkins Gilman
“Gosh, I’m hungry,” he said suddenly, putting down his paintbrush. “I am one hungry artist.”
“You should probably eat something,” the model said without turning her head. “I don’t mind waiting.”
“I’m so hungry,” he said. “Maybe the hungriest artist out of all of them.”
“Really, go ahead and get something,” she said. “I don’t mind.”
“They should call me the hunger artist,” he said, and they both laughed at his little joke.
“That was funny,” the model said, “but hunger is no joke.”
“You’re right,” the artist said. “I’ll be right back. Can I get you anything?”
“No,” the model said, relaxing from her pose for a minute, because she didn’t have to hold the pose if he was going to run out and get a bite to eat, “but thanks very much for asking.”
“It’s no problem at all,” he said. “After all, I’m hungry, not thoughtless.”
They both laughed again. Later, he started painting again, only now he wasn’t hungry anymore, so Hunger Artist was no longer an apt description. Just artist.
– A Hunger Artist, Franz Kafka
“Please don’t touch that,” his mother said. “That’s the monkey’s paw. Everyone has a right to control their own body.” All the children learned an important lesson about autonomy that day.
– The Monkey’s Paw, W.W. Jacobs
“You’ve won,” the host announced. “You’ve won it all, Rockinghorse.” Everyone crowded around the Rockinghorse and cheered him for winning.
“Gosh,” the Rockinghorse said. “I’ve never felt quite so much like a winner before.”
“You were always a winner,” the crowd said. And for the first time, he believed it.
– The Rockinghorse Winner, D.H. Lawrence
The tin roof made merry plashing sounds all afternoon. Not so rainy that they couldn’t have gone out, but it was nice to stay in and listen to the sounds all the same.
– There Will Come Soft Rains, Ray Bradbury
“What a nice fire,” he said to himself. It certainly was. Kept him very warm, too.
– To Build A Fire, Jack London
You gotta play to win!
– The Lottery, Shirley Jackson
I want to give this so many more thumbs up.
This is too good. This is so good I finally made a Toast account just to tell you I bellowed at my desk for several minutes straight upon reading this.
Apt short story summary. And awesome name Merricat!
😀
(great name, too)
I nearly choked on my apple from laughter.
Omg.
Winner shut it down.
#byeomelas
– “The Ones Who Walked Away From Omelas”, Ursula LeGuin
“He has Lupus.”
-“The Curious Case of Benjamin Button,” F. Scott Fitzgerald
“I brought some gold, and the other guys have frankincense and myhrr.”
Mary thought these were very silly gifts for a baby boy, but she smiled and thanked the three foreign gentlemen anyway.
-“The Gift of the Magi,” O. Henry
“Happy anniversary, Em! I know it’s not much, but I picked a rose for you from a bush on the way home.”
“Oh, thank you, dear. It’s lovely.”
Then they had sex.
-“A Rose for Emily,” but William Faulkner
It’s never lupus!!!!!
That’s exactly what was so curious about the case.
I…. I literally had no idea that Benjamin Button was by Fitzgerald. And I consider myself a bibliophile. Hanging head in shame.
Probably because it is one of like, 2 things he wrote that can’t also be titled “I know I’m rich, but I want to be rich-rich”
“Don’t the hills out there look so majestic, covered in snow?”
“Yeah, they remind me of big elephants, if elephants came in white.”
“I was thinking the same too! Definitely elephants. Definitely NOT the desperation of having to get an abortion when you don’t really want one because your flaky boyfriend tells you to. Yup, elephants.”
Ha! I taught this story to a classroom of undergrads and not a single one realized that’s what they were talking about. I had them all say what they thought it was about, and they said everything from “dementia” to “leaving the country secretly,” but definitely NOT abortion. It was pretty great, especially because that story is a fantastic way to learn about how to read symbolism.
The hour passed without incident. Afterward, her husband came home from work and they had a difficult but ultimately productive conversation about their marriage.
– The Story of an Hour, Kate Chopin
uuuuuuugh EVERYONE GO TALK ABOUT YOUR MARRIAGE RIGHT NOW.
That is the ultimate lesson of literature. Also that men are gross and unnecessary.
Isn’t that, ultimately the lesson of life?
Professional football players do indeed suffer from an alarming number of concussions, someone should fix that! And then no one was hunted.
– “The Most Dangerous Game” by Richard Connell
“It’s Summer today!”
“Yes, today is the day that is all of Summer, I remember”
“How lovely, I am not in any way traumatised for life”
-“All Summer in a Day” Ray Bradbury
I made sure to read this one aloud in class when I taught it so I wouldn’t get answers like this on the final.
That story traumatizes me to this day.
When I was in 2nd grade we watched the movie (TV?) version of this one day when the teacher was sick. It haunted me for 25 years, so last year I finally Googled it “movie girl only rain one day of sun?” I was shocked to realize it was Bradbury and must therefore be a famous story that I’d somehow never come across again, but not at all shocked to realize that it still gave me nightmares.
welp, check those short stories off the list of things to read. reality surely can’t compete.
“That drawer handle won’t come off again,” she said as she closed her toolbox.
Sorry! It’s The Turn of the Screw, obviously.
I have posted this twomor three times now. Don’t know what’s up with my computer. I apologize.
When the sun came out, the class stuffed their coats and rainboots into the closet and raced outside. The older children made sure that Margot was picked first for kickball, since she was new at the school and seemed a little homesick, and they wanted to make her feel welcome.
The girls and boys agreed later that they’d never seen anything as lovely as Margot kicking the red ball in a perfect arc across the brilliant blue sky.
-“All Summer in a Day”, Ray Bradbury
“There’s another one!”
“Start counting!” I said. We huddled under the blanket fort with our hot cocoa and counted until we heard it.
–“A Sound of Thunder”, Ray Bradbury
“Rawr…”
“What are you doing, honey?”
“Oh, just, playing with these dinosaurs and imagining what it would be like to live in the time of dinosaurs.”
So they played with the dinosaurs and had a dinosaur wedding.
–“If You Were A Dinosaur, My Love”, Rachel Swirsky
The second one–oh, no, all my feelings.
Damn. Wasted my wedding day.
“She’s always been a very attractive woman,” John said, “but now..”
“She’s such a tiger!” Jack put in.
“I think the term is ‘cougar’,” Mary said, rolling her eyes.
Jack seemed skeptical. “I don’t know… Are there man-eating cougars?”
“She’s a lady, not an animal,” John said. “No matter what happens with the genetic modifications, we have to remember that.”
“The Lady, or the Tiger?” by Frank R. Stockton
“Whose yellow cravat is this?” I asked, running my fingers over the velvet.
“That’s the minister’s,” she said. “He puts it on when he’s feeling melancholy.”
“How about this mauve beret?”
“Also the minister’s. It’s for when he’s in a coy mood.”
“And what does he wear when he’s feeling coy AND melancholy?”
-The Minister’s Black Veil, Nathaniel Hawthorne
Oh ye gods alive, I am crying.
“OK, guys, I know that what I’m about to say is probably just heresy, but hear me out.”
“Oh boy, here it comes.”
“No, but really. Why do there have to be nine billion names for God? I mean seriously? ‘God’ is really the only one we actually need, right? It seems to work fine.”
“…holy shit, the rookie has a pretty good point. Hey, Lenny, can we cancel the order for that computer?”
Overhead, without any fuss, the stars twinkled.
– “The Nine Billion Names of God”, Arthur C. Clarke.
“I guess you can kind of see how it collapsed between the two peaks,” said Jack.
Ennis (never taciturn or tortured by secrets) grinned. “Yep, the west is full of evocative place names.”
And then they drove the rest of the way to the charming B&B where the hostess had left an extra quilt on the bed for them. It was the best ski vacation they’d had in years.
-“Brokeback Mountain” Annie Proulx
“Eau Claire and Santa Barbara, respectively.”
-Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?, Joyce Carol Oates
“Where are you going, where have you been?”
“I don’t think those are the lyrics.”
So they googled Cotton-Eyed Joe and figured out what the lyrics actually were.
This version of that story is now canon. I declare it.
You know you keep doing these but I am starting to suspect that you have read some of these stories.
You know, I THOUGHT “Later, he talked about his feelings with his fiancé, and didn’t shoot himself” was a rather suspiciously specific denial.
The hell you say.
it is just a feeling that I get, I dunno
look you, the title clearly says that Mallory is summarizing stories she has never read
I just don’t think she’d fib to us about something so integral to the conceit of this post
Remember when she told us that bees give live birth though
technically, that was not a fib, but a misconception
WAS IT THOUGH!?!?
man, I don’t even know what to believe anymore. goddamnit, braak.
Still remember my uncle deciding to read “To Build a Fire” out loud when I was like, six, and we were staying in my family’s cabin in rural northern Arizona. He just really liked the story and wanted to share it with the grownups… even though I was fully within earshot.
I’m sure it has no connection to the fact that I grew up to be a pretty anxious adult with a morbid imagination.
I think that qualifies as child abuse.
Yeah, but I bet you didn’t fuck around in cold weather, either.
I’ve basically spent my life between Arizona and Southern California and have no intentions to live in the northern half of this nation, so. Yes. Lesson internalized.
This was actually assigned reading for me in 5th grade. It was in an anthology along with “Leiningen Versus the Ants,” a story about a Brazilian farmer who gets eaten alive by fire ants.
Ohmigod. It’s been 30+ years and I’m still traumatized by that story. The ants! The ants!!!
They made us read To Build A Fire every damn year of middle school. But I have to admit, none of us froze to death in the woods, which is actually a big concern where I grew up.
An adorable heart from a Valentine’s Day card comes to life and shares some charming stories.
– “The Tell-Tale Heart” – Edgar Allan Poe
As a fannibal, I have to say – “adorable” Valentine hearts coming to life are scary enough already. If that creature straight out of a horror videogame started telling stories, too… *shudders*
“Francis, I want you to know that I’m glad you chose to go on safari in spite of your diagnosis.”
“My inoperable prostate cancer doesn’t define me. Thank you for all of your support and for not leaving me for a more traditionally masculine figure.”
-The Short Happy Life, etc., etc., by Beardy McDrinksington
yes. Also I probably would hate Hemingway a lot less if he went by that name instead of “Papa” (anyone who actually expects non-relative ADULTS to refer to him as such is not the kind of person I want to be forced to read in high school, but Beardy McDrinksington sounds kinda fun)
Reader’s Digest, of all things, has a pretty funny piece this month on If Earnest Hemingway Worked For Buzzfeed. “Earnest’s posts deal more and more with unhappiness, alcoholism, and writing alone in a shed.”
Isn’t that a Toast original?
“Well now it depends what we’re talking about, ladies are nice to look at but tigers make impressive housepets.”
“Hello, I am here to ask about the apartment for rent?”
“Why, yes, please come in. I’d be happy to show it to you.”
“So you must be the landlady; it’s nice to meet you. Although now that I think about it, using a gendered term for the job of landlord seems dreadfully antiquated.”
“I think so, too. Now, can I offer you a cup of tea? I have Irish Breakfast, darjeeling, chamomile and rooibos, none of which suspiciously taste of bitter almonds.”
The landlord-who-happened-to-be-female provided excellent service to the tenant for five years, and enjoyed the company of her completely alive parrot and dachsund.
–“The Landlady,” Roald Dahl
“Jane, can I ask for some advice?”
“Certainly, Thomas.” Jane smiled at her younger brother.
“Well, I have been invited to a party, and I am afraid my conversations with girls will be very awkward.”
“Ah. Well, first you must remember that girls–or women, let us say–are not a monolith or foreign species; there is no magic word or formula. Be friendly, ask questions–and don’t forget to listen to the answers, that kind of thing.”
“I guess that makes sense. I did see these people online say that you should be mean to girls to make them like you.”
“No, no, no, I promise that is a terrible idea. You should stay off those toxic websites.”
Thomas took his sister’s advice and a good time was had by all.
“How to Talk to Girls At Parties”–Neil Gaiman
The Ticktockman said “Repent, Harlequin!”
– “‘Repent, Harlequin!’ Said the Ticktockman” by Harlan Ellison
The MC held up a hand to quiet the crowd. “And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for: the results of the What’s-Wrong-With-This-Picture Memory Challenge!” I leaned in, full of nervous anticipation. “As you can see here, the burglar’s mouth is visible in the first image, but in the second it’s hidden by his bandanna. NO MOUTH is the winning answer! Who has ‘no mouth’?”
I leapt to my feet, waving my answer sheet in excitement. I realized I was shrieking like a loon, but as my fellow players began to smile and applaud, I was too happy to care. The grand prize was mine!
– “I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream” by Harlan Ellison
These are all wonderful but this is the one that made me laugh visibly at work and attempt to hide it.
“Let’s bake some cookies! I have a new recipe to try out.”
“Oh, that sounds marvelous! I’ll preheat the oven. What’s the temperature given in the recipe?”
-“Fahrenheit 451,” Ray Bradbury
Ha!
“It’s going to get dark pretty soon.”
“Good thing we’ve laid in a good supply of candles.”
–“Nightfall” Isaac Asimov
“So I feel like changing my do. Let’s go platinum, and don’t stint the Aqua Net!”
-“Big Blonde,” by Dorothy Parker
“Granny Weatherall decided she really didn’t want to get married again, this late in life. So she dumped that man right before the wedding and dumped him good.”
-“The Jilting of Granny Weatherall,” Katherine Anne Porter
I couldn’t think why Granny Weatherwax was even thinking about marriage…
Mustrum Ridcully can be a very persuasive fellow!
Speaking of not reading things, I can’t be the only person who owns a copy of “The Shepherd’s Crown” but just CAN’T yet?
”Such a lovely evening for a stroll in the woods–what’s this? My wife’s hair ribbon. She must have dropped it, silly goose.”
“Young Goodman Brown” Nathaniel Hawthorne
I would prefer not to, Bartleby said, so he didn’t.
-Bartleby the Scrivener.
“And what do you do for a living, Mr. Bartleby?”
“I’m a scrivener. I scriven things.”
“May I borrow this one?” she said. “I’ve been invited to a fancy party and I’d like to wear a nice necklace.”
“Sure,” said her friend, “you actually can have that one. It’s fake, so if you lose it or it breaks or something, no worries.”
-“The Necklace,” Guy de Maupassant
I like this version way better than the original.
I love this version too. I think this is the real story, and the other was just a recurring nightmare.
The woman was much happier with her new blue lenses, even if they were a little avant-garde for the nurses. It was nice to see her husband as he really was instead of as a vague outline.
“The Blue Lenses,” Daphne du Maurier
Mainly this just reminds me of how many things I’ve read but then completely forgotten about.
“Grant, do you see that? Way up on the peak?”
“Is that — a grizzly?”
“How wonderful!” Fiona said, reaching for Grant’s hand. Sitting together in perfect fidelity and mental clarity, they watched the bear descend.
– “The Bear Came over the Mountain,” Alice Munro
I remember sitting on my couch with my girlfriend when we had just started watching Away From Her and thinking “This is familiar… I know this story… OH FUCK.” But it was too late to turn it off.
Two friends, Emil and Priya needed to take a work break and decided to stop by a nearby park. After walking a few minutes in the garden, they came to a fork in the path.
“Oh look, the left fork takes you to a fountain, while the right fork takes you towards a bed of tulips,” exclaimed Priya.
They took the right fork towards the tulips, admired them for 15 minutes as they bitched about their coworkers, and then returned to their office.
-The Garden of Forking Paths, Jorge Luis Borges
Not a poem but:
Maryana got out of her car at the Rainbow Point parking lot, and pointed to a nearby bird. “Wow, look, there’s a raven dancing here in a parking lot! Who knew a bird could be so big?”
-The Raven, Edgar Allen Poe
Also:
“Okay, it’s time for you to name your orcs,” said the Dungeonmistress, as the first player was considered the orc figures on the table before them.
The player paused before naming their three orcs: Tlön, Uqbar, and Orbis Tertius. Then the game commenced.
-Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius by Jorge Luis Borges
Jayden nudged Marie at the bar.
“Hey, look at that guy hovering over our chicken wings over there. Do you know him?”
“No,” replied Marie. “Do you?”
“Nope.”
-The Stranger by Albert Camus
This is a major improvement on the original.
“I feel so unfulfilled as a public servant”, he mused. “I need a fresh start, a radical change. Maybe I’ll dye my hair, take French lessons … what am I saying? That’s not enough. I’ll buy an apple orchard! Or become an entomologist.”
And so began the most exciting year of Greg’s life.
-The Metamorphosis, Franz Kafka
ENTOMOLOGIST!
After writing “Eat, Pray, Turn Into A Giant Bug,” Kafka’s unsuccessful attempt at self-actualization porn, he returned to his job at the insurance company.
I am trying SO HARD not to disturb my students laughing at these but this one right here just got me.
Aw man, I just laughed so hard I woke the baby. Well done!
It’s very important to choose the correct weapon when killing mockingbirds. Some prefer a long-range sniper rifle, but I personally have always enjoyed killing them with a good old-fashioned slingshot.
–To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee
“Wow!” said one brother. “I’ve never seen a bird like THAT before. It’s so beautiful!”
“You don’t see them often in this part of the world,” said the other brother. “It must have gotten lost.”
Then the bird, which was perfectly healthy and did not symbolize anything, flew away. The brothers clasped hands and walked home together at a sedate pace, through the blessing of rain.
–“The Scarlet Ibis”, James Hurst
(All of these are bringing back a LOT of high school English memories.)
“What a beautiful October morning. Let’s go outside and play,” said Hannah.
“Hopscotch?” said Jenny.
“Hopscotch!” said Hannah.
– “The October Game”, Ray Bradbury
“That was funny,” the model said, “but hunger is no joke.”
Let’s get married.
“How did this happen originally?” asked Frank, gazing out at the shiny water.
“Trust me, it’ll be much easier on you if you don’t know,” replied Mike.
– “Greasy Lake”, T. Coraghessan Boyle
“I am literally the dullest girl in the world.” – Bernice
“You are! You should cut your hair off so you have something to talk about.” – Marjorie
“I look amazing. Let’s party.” – Bernice
Bernice Bobs Her Hair, F. Scott Fitzgerald
“You used to see people out here this time of day, but then they made the place a no-smoking campus,” the man said, gesturing to a group of people just visible at the far end of the parking lot. “Now at their ten AM break the ones who haven’t quit or taken up vaping have to walk over to the bank.”
Stephen King, “The Ten O’Clock People”
I WISH that was how “The Yellow Wallpaper” went! Gives me chills just thinking about that one…
This reminds me of something I wrote for my university paper when I was 18, which included a summary of Marx’s Das Kapital as ‘A great guide to Berlin hotspots’.
I’m getting the feeling that we were all fairly traumatized by Bradbury and his misleadingly pleasant sounding titles.
All Summer in a Day! I hadn’t read *any* Bradbury before that–it sounded like it would be so pleasant!
The last guy I dated decided to read Michael Ondaatje’s The Cinnamon Peeler as a pre-breakfast thing while visiting my parents, because I guess cinnamon is thematically appropriate for breakfast foods?
I am endlessly glad that they liked him enough that “remember that time your boyfriend made a big deal of reading a semi-erotic poem at the breakfast table?” probably won’t become a Thing, because I don’t ever want to have to talk about that with family members ever again.
Ohhh this made me laugh so hard! That is an amazing anecdote but what an incredibly uncomfortable lived experience that must have been.
Dude. Duuuuuude. You have no idea.
The worst part was that the poem is really sexy right off the bat, and I kept waiting for him to go “you know what? I thought this was something else. Never mind, let’s eat!” You know, like a reasonable person presumably would? But … nope. He read the entire. damn. thing. and no one else at that table had the faintest idea what to do or who to look at.
Yeah, it’s not a poem that the sexy sneaks into suddenly… Wow wow wow. Did he ever explain why he read it? Also, laughing so hard at the image of everyone avoiding eye contact. Kudos to your family for not bringing it up again!
THAT’S THE THING! I asked him later and he garbled something about cinnamon and french toast? Except that the breakfast carb of choice at my mother’s house is pancakes, which he knew, and … I don’t even know.
Dude had two postgraduate degrees and had gone to three different very good schools and is altogether a solid example of how little all that really means. Yeesh.
To those who have posted blissfully idyllic alternate versions of All Summer in a Day, don’t worry: It only took me 25 years to get over that story the first time. So if I start right now, I’m sure I’ll be at least moderately trauma-free again by the time I retire.
(Seriously, though: I never imagined I’d dissuade anyone from reading Bradbury. But if you’ve ever been bullied, stay away from that one. To be safe, give it a miss if you have a child. Or have been one. Or have functional feeling organs.)
For therapeutic purposes I will now have to write Margot’s Revenge:
Twenty years later Margot owns the only corporation on Venus, and jets off to Earth whenever she likes. She never neglects to send postcards to her former classmates, who are now her drones and spend all their days in dreary cubicles, slaving over spreadsheets and listening to the endless rain. Whenever sunshine day comes around, Margot makes sure all the heavy steel blinds are drawn and everyone has particularly pointless tasks to do, like shredding papers they know will be incinerated anyway. But she regularly sends their kids on holiday in the Mediterranean because she’s not a monster. THE END
All Summer in a Day was basically how I felt ALL THE TIME in middle school. Margot is my spirit animal.
“Well, see ya, Brazos.”
– Goodbye to a River, by John Graves
“Oh, red ferns? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a red fern.”
“Wow, really? We have a lot of them over by that tree.”
And then they walked over to the tree and all the dogs lived.
– Where The Red Fern Grows.
“Coulter’s Notch. That’s a strange name for a B&B.”
“Yeah, I guess it is. I’m sure there’s a cute story to it, there’s one for everything in this place. Now come here, I have to leave right when we get up — I told my husband I’d be back from the conference tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow morning! That’s so early! I told mine I’d be back the next day.”
“Right. So let’s not waste any time.”
— The Affair at Coulter’s Notch
I’m seeing an opera of Rockinghorse Winner in May!
A purse with stray M&Ms in the bottom. A cell phone. Keys. Random receipts.
— The Things They Carried, Tim O’Brien
“What a lovely house!” the narrator said.
“It is,” Roderick Usher said. “But do you see that big crack there?”
“Oh, yes,” the narrator said. “Suppose we found your sister Madeline, with whom you have a totally normal sibling relationship, and went to Home Depot to get repair materials?”
“Brilliant, my friend!” Roderick said. “I’ve been worried the crack could widen and cause a collapse, and then where would Madeline and I be? Thanks for helping me out.”
– The Fall of the House of Usher, Edgar Allan Poe
I think this is actually just Part III of Horrifying Stories Made Comforting and Anodyne.
“I have to admit,” said the maid to the painters’ foreman, “it looks a lot better now.”
— William Gibson, “New Rose Hotel”
“Beat it, Vick, and don’t come back.”
— William Gibson with Michael Swanwick, “Dogfight”
Turnips. Turnips. Turnips. Desiccated sausage, very dear. Moldy potatoes. Turnips. Turnips. Turnips. Turnips. Turnips. Turnips. Turnips. Turnips. Turnips.
— William Gibson, “The Winter Market”
“No, I don’t want to see your lousy renderings, even if they are in true 3-D.” I snarled. “I’m overbooked, and the maids are threatening a walkout.”
— William Gibson, “Fragments of a Hologram Rose”
“Shouldn’t we bring Algie something?” he asked.
“Well, he said that it wasn’t a potluck.”
“Still, though, we should bring something,” he insisted.
After some debate, they settled on flowers.
– Daniel Keyes, “Flowers for Algernon”
This is it. This is the one that is making me feel infinitely better. I bawled for ages after reading the original. I love this version.
The two groups of fine young men, dressed in clean new uniforms of grey or blue, stared at each other across the field.
“I guess we have to start shooting each other now, or else we won’t be brave and manly,” said one.
“That sounds like an awfully bad idea for all concerned,” said another.
“I know!” said a third. “Instead of shooting each other to show our bravery to the world, let’s wear nice badges that say ‘Courage’ in large print. Red ones so they are easily seen.”
And so it was done, and they all shook hands and went home to their relieved families, all the slaves were freed, and the greedy old men who had wanted a war and slavery were rounded up and told to grow their own food until they learned to be human.
–The Red Badge of Courage, by Stephen Crane
It was a small town by a small river and a small lake in a small northern part of a Midwest state. There wasn’t so much wilderness around you couldn’t see the town. But on the other hand there wasn’t so much town you couldn’t see and feel and touch and smell the wilderness. The town was full of trees.
One of those trees was sturdy enough that we hung jack o lanterns from it. Like a Christmas tree, but for Halloween. Everyone gathered around the tree to learn about Halloween traditions from other cultures and no one was confronted by the brevity of youth or their own mortality!
“The Halloween Tree” by Ray Bradbury
“All the children learned an important lesson about autonomy that day.”
You know, I first read that as “anatomy.” And that works too.
“I must say, Holmes, I love watching parades.”
“Indeed. And what do you notice about this next marching band, coming into sight?”
“Why, er, they seem to be covered in spots. They all have smallpox!”
“Not quite, Watson. They are the Nova Scotia Leopard Society Drum and Bugle Corps.”
“The Adventure of the Speckled Band” by Arthur Conan Doyle
“Honey, you weren’t adopted. I’m your biological parent and that makes you my ‘bloodchild.’ Also, isn’t it great that we have complete freedom of reproductive choice?”
“Bloodchild” by Octavia Butler
There once was a man from Nantucket . . .
-The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket
“Are you still having problems carrying around your papers, Paul?”
“Not since I bought this beautiful little number here.”
–“Paul’s Case” by Willa Cather
“Well, I don’t really live there – I mean, city building codes would prevent that kind of thing. But it so happens there’s a comfortable sublet one story up, and it’s a convenient distance from my workplace.”
–“Why I Live at the P.O.” by Eudora Welty
“We are so lucky to live in our house that does everything!”
“Super lucky! Here come the children! Hello, loving offspring!”
“Hello, delightful parents! We will never conjure lions out of our spoiled ids in our room and feed you to them!”
And they all had dinner and went on vacation!
Ray Bradbury, The Veldt
May 4: Sunny out. Grew a new branch.
May 5: Light rain. Started some buds.
May 6: Pretty uneventful. I’m just a plant, not a doctor, so I don’t have any patients that I can slowly discover are actually political prisoners here to be brainwashed.
May 7: Bloomed! I love my job!
“Diary of the Rose” by Ursula K. LeGuin
“I wish I had the bluest eyes ever.”
“That’s white supremacy talking. Black is beautiful, baby.”
“You’re right. I am beautiful. And fuck any fool who says otherwise.”
And Pecola Breedlove went from her non-abusive childhood to become a proud black woman who fought misogynoir every chance she got.
Meer: I’m gonna own you in this game.
Mirza: Yo mamma so fat…
“The Chess Players”, by Premchand
YES
He ate his wheaties, shaved all the hair off his body and jumped in. Gosh, the cool water felt great on such a hot afternoon! How fortunate and happy he felt to be young and healthy and rich and white and to be swimming swimming swimming on a luscious summer’s afternoon. Everyone should be this lucky, he thought, although of course, they weren’t.
–The Swimmer
In his house in sunken Rl’yeh, dead Cthulhu stirred as his cell phone rang.
“I really must start setting that damn thing on vibrate before I go to bed,” he thought as he pressed a pillow against his ear.
Eventually it went to voicemail, and Cthulhu resumed sleeping.
“The Call of Cthulhu”, H.P. Lovecraft.
“You don’t think the color is a little daring?” Conan asked.
“A bit, perhaps” said Valeria. “But I like the look of it, just the same.”
Once the polish had dried, they continued on to lunch.
“Red Nails”, Robert E. Howard.
He peaked in 1976. After that, people just weren’t in the market for bicentennials anymore.
“The Bicentennial Man”, Isaac Asimov
Mustrum Ridcully can be a very persuasive fellow!
Speaking of not reading things, I can't be the only person who owns a copy of "The Shepherd's Crown" but just CAN'T yet?
This is really late AND it’s a tv episode but as long as we’re exorcising things:
“Jimmy, I can’t believe you left your Halloween art project to the last minute!”
“Dad, it wasn’t just me. So did Emily across the street and Jennifer on the corner!”
“Well, here’s a grocery bag. Maybe we can cut out facial features from magazine pictures and make a monster that way. I’ll help you with the scissors.”
And in house after house on Maple Street, children and parents scrambled to finish their monsters so they could hand them in the next day.
-“The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street”, The Twilight Zone
This is really late AND it's a tv episode but as long as we're exorcising things:
"Jimmy, I can't believe you left your Halloween art project to the last minute!"
"Dad, it wasn't just me. So did Emily across the street and Jennifer on the corner!"
"Well, here's a grocery bag. Maybe we can cut out facial features from magazine pictures and make a monster that way. I'll help you with the scissors."
And in house after house on Maple Street, children and parents scrambled to finish their monsters so they could hand them in the next day.
-"The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street", The Twilight Zone
Isn't that a Toast original?
Life went on as pleasantly as usual for the townspeople.
“This is nice,” they said. None of them were transformed into eldritch horrors by a psychic goblin-child.
– “It’s a Good Life,” Jerome Bixby
“Oh look, that’s the crown prince of Britain, he’s not king NOW, but oh boy lemme tell you…”
-Excerpt from “The Man Who Would be King”