Bomb Scare

It’s a Friday and it’s the second to last day of middle school. My cousin G. wants to end things in style by bombing the place, I’m helping her out even if I don’t approve: I’m actually gonna try to sabotage the bomb when she’s not looking. She’s so proud to have me on her team, hugs me and tells our classmates we’ve known each other “since we were babies”.

I see my chance when she mentions she can’t wait to go dance on Saturday night, I casually remind her we’re gonna bomb the school and we’ll all be dead by then. She looks taken aback, like she didn’t think things through. She starts quietly counting on her fingers, and I know I’m about to change her mind.

I go home and tell everyone I’m carrying a bomb, but not to worry, everything is under control. Meanwhile, can my parents help me bring all my stuff home from my classroom? I’m pretty sure I’m not gonna be back, I’ve had to repeat this school year over and over and over and over again in my dreams, hell, even my little brother is starting middle school and is about to catch up with me.

The next day my cousin confesses the bomb was only a bunch of New Year fireworks, and if we launch them in the park it’s probably gonna be okay. I rush to do so, meanwhile she travels to a far away kingdom: the king’s brother is forced to wear a red woman’s dress to entertain the castle, she wants to rescue him because she’s in love with him. I think the whole thing is way too heteronormative, but the man is a blonde viking very upset with the whole situation, hopefully he’ll be grateful enough to marry her.

Lost Jackets, Lost Shoes

I’m a soldier sitting at a table in my own IRL living room. A fellow soldier is sitting next to me. We are searching through a pile of jackets belonging to prisoners, one by one we rip the seams with a pocket knife, searching for hidden money or keys.

There is a journalist hiding in the room, taking pictures with his phone. We grab him, try to force him to release the phone, but he says the public has the right to know what we’re doing! We have to call one of our special agents, a skinny guy with glasses and a lab coat on. He smiles gleefully in a disturbing sort of way, gives the journalist a drug. I shake the scientist’s hand, it gets covered in spit. His mouth is full of spit too, he reminds me of a boy I was forced to sit next to in middle school.


I go to my usual salon and look around for F., the man that always cuts my hair. I notice stairs that weren’t there before and go up to the second floor: F. is on the balcony smoking, a balcony that looks almost like mine. I tell him about my new job and how I urgently need a haircut, he’s very happy for me and tells me to go fix an appointment.

( Photo by Guilherme Petri on Unsplash )

Downstairs next to the register are standing Naya Rivera and Heather Morris. They look older than what I remembered, Naya is wearing a baseball cap and stinks of alcohol. They greet me because we went to school together, ask how my cat is doing. Hearing this, my sister walks up to show us the cat inside her tote bag, it’s a white and brown kitten that looks very unhappy. I get mad at my sister, how can she just walk around with a poor kitten like that! She ignores me and skips the line, so she can pay for the roasted potatoes she apparently bought at the salon.

I suddenly realize I’m not wearing my shoes and I don’t remember taking them off. The place is now filled with hundreds of people. I try to look outside in the yard, but I’m chased away by the Golden Girls. Inside a child is arranging hundreds of shoes in a long train on the floor, I pick them one by one but can’t find mine. Then a thought occurs to me: I’m wearing no shoes because I’m in actually in bed! And I wake up.