No. 00112: Scottie
Scottie doesn’t want any trouble. He’s minding his own business and thinks you should too. So back off. Stay away. You’re making him uncomfortable.
No. 00111: Bluey
Bluey found a notebook on the sidewalk today. It belongs to a twelve-year-old girl. She knows this because written on the first page are the words: This notebook belongs to Lillian P. Gillman, 12-year-old girl. Nowhere in the notebook are written Lillian P. Gillman’s address, phone number or e-mail address. Everywhere in the notebook are written Lillian P. Gillman’s stories, jokes, grievances, hopes and crushes’ names. Bluey’s sure she would be friends with Lillian P. Gillman.
No. 00110: Nick
Nick once ate twenty fish tacos in twenty minutes. He didn’t set any records or win any awards, but he didn’t eat twenty fish tacos in twenty minutes to set any records or win any awards. He didn’t eat twenty fish tacos in twenty minutes as a result of winning or losing a bet or dare. Nick ate twenty fish tacos in twenty minutes because the taquería was out of carnitas and was going to close in twenty minutes.
No. 00109: Kendrew
Kendrew wasn’t always left-handed.
No. 00108: Gwen
When Gwen was twelve years old, her father, world famous primatologist Gunnar Van Alst, gave her the skull of a stump-tailed macaque that she began to wear as a sort of charm on her belt. The very next day he departed for Southeast Asia and she never saw her father again. When Gwen was eighteen, she began her journey traveling the world in search of him.
No. 00107: Douglass
On the sixteenth anniversary of Douglass’s birth, he went on a drive with his newly acquired license for driving. Operating his mother’s wood-paneled Buick Roadmaster Estate borrowed for the afternoon, listening to his favorite song at a responsible volume level and driving exactly five miles per hour above the posted speed limit; Douglass drove straight into the side of a white-tailed deer that had sauntered into the road. The doe fell over onto the hood of the car, slid up the windshield and flew a distance before landing several yards behind the vehicle. Douglass cried the whole ride home, never again sat in the driver’s seat of an automobile and vowed never again to consume the flesh of an animal.
No. 00106: Yuki
When it snows in the city, Yuki finds himself dreaming about the snowy days of his childhood when he lived with his family at the foot of the mountains in Yuzawa. There the snow fluttered down silently and shone bright and blinding in the next morning’s sun, smooth and soft like a cotton pillow. Here the snow falls wet and heavy amid traffic, slick and messy, blackened and muddy under millions of filthy footsteps within the hour.
No. 00105: Audie
Audie was four years old the first time her mother brought her shopping. She wished that she could have a coloring book containing every outfit she saw displayed on the mannequins. She’d color them in the exact colors in which she’d seen them. What fascinated Audie more than the colors and the textures of the apparel her mother paraded her through, however, was the shiny grey card with the sleek black strip that her mother passed to the cashier each time before she received a brightly colored bag with new clothes inside. It was as if that card was a key that unlocked a secret message instructing the cashier that her mother was special and deserved fancy new clothes. And on her thirteenth birthday, Audie received her very own magic key.
No. 00104: Carl
Carl has problems. He spends his time and money investing in little distractions such as shiny handheld electronic devices, handcrafted leather goods, overpriced sneakers and apparel made anywhere other than China. These preoccupations, however, are only momentary pleasures. When Carl is at home, alone in his sweats, barefoot and out of batteries, he finds himself tired and broken. No locally brewed craft beer can drown his sorrows and no app can ease the burden of self-loathing.
No. 00103: Ju-Ju-Judy
Judy doesn’t hear you. You’ll have to excuse her. She’s too busy listening to the melodies swimming around under that pink blob of hair she has. Headphones on or not, she always hears some kind of tune. She’s always humming or tapping her toes. And if she could whistle she’d whistle, but she never developed that skill. She can, however, dance the Charleston all over the place.
