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Blonde Capsules


the EX-QUEEN of FW~!
Jan 1, 2000
Greensboro USA
The first week of school is always the hardest for Adrian.

Something about the way a kid stares. Their eyes have no filters. They’ve been sheltered from the realities of the world that, yes, Virginia there are four- foot creatures who chain smoke and are happy Jim Henson is stone cold buried. Sure he can make millions smile and teach little ****s how to count to ten, but **** the prick for not being able to take a joke.

Adrian didn’t last an hour on the set of “The Muppets Take Manhattan.” Hired to be a stand-in, he couldn’t help but needle the great Jim Henson.

“Jim, Muppets in Manhattan? What the ****? They’ll be eaten alive. Seriously. Maybe, I can see them in Podunk, Arkansas where they’ll be embraced as loveable substitutes for a minority culture base, but New York? Are you ****ting me?”

The truth is Adrian had written a high school play called “Manhattan Melodies” about a mother-daughter prostitution team with golden voices, who sing to cope with the frustration of being drunken whores. Adrian always thought Henson bent him over. He thought if he worked on the film he could get the Muppets out of New York. Manhattan was his lady. And though the melodies between the two creative works were so very different, Evans hated the frivolity of which the Muppets handled the Big City and her dangers.

He’s lived so many different lives and damn these kids he teaches for not knowing. He hates the first week. The pace by which the parents usher their kids past him in the hallways. “Johnny, your class room is this way, come on,” really means, “Damn the school board for letting this thing near my children for eight hours a day.”

The kids stare, they snicker, and above all they wonder where the Chocolate Factory is.

Teaching was his dream. Adrian had finally settled in and taken control of his life. He’d been a horror before. He’s old now, he can feel it when he wakes in the morning. When he hears a song that reminds him of a woman he loved yesterday. They still look so young in his mind. Their skin soft and white as snow, but he gets the occasional letter in the mail. Post cards of their lives today. Their kids, marriages, chemo. Etc. The truth is Adrian is too old for the carriage he rode before. Though he might hate it, teaching, being with children, it keeps him going. Keeps him alive. If he can teach five to be more tolerate of those different than them. If he can impress upon them the need at this early age to be fluent in another language, he’ll forever be.

Wilson Elementary’s First Grade class saunters onto a clearing in the school yard. Today, Adrian’s class is set to unearth a time capsule buried on school grounds twenty-five years ago.

“You guys ready? Bobby, your first with the shovel,” Evans lights up a cigarette as Bobby first grader enthusiastically takes the shovel from Adrian’s hands and starts to dig. Every class member gets a turn. Swipe, and tell the class what you hope to find.

Twenty-five years. What would Adrian leave behind in a capsule today? What would he want the world to know about him? That for once, he’s his own man, for sure. Hopefully it doesn’t take his kids as long to grow up and stand on their own feet, but he’s a man today. That’s worth noting, if nothing else.

“I hit something!”

“Stand back Mary, let’s see!”

Adrian finished unearthing the capsule. He’s actually more excited than he thought he’d be. “I’m opening it!


Adrian grinned, sure he’d never get to walk on the moon, but he felt cool enough. He threw open the capsule door and…


Was grabbed by two dusty hands, “Where’s my son?!”

“Ahhhhhhhhhhh!” Adrian sank to the Earth and crapped his pants as the first-grade class behind him turned and ran like hell.

“DAMN YOU DEMON, STAY BACK!” Adrian reached for the shovel but was thrown back. The zombie climbed out of the capsule and chased the kids for a couple of feet.

“Wha—what’s wrong with you man!?”

The zombie doubled over from laughter. “How many are scarred for life?”

“I’m gonna get fired!” Adrian stood on his feet kicking dirt at the man before him.

Joey Melton.

“You like working here? Hey dude, I did you a favor.”

“What? How…how did you get in there?”

“It was harder than you think, but I’m an entertainer. It’s what I do.”

“I can’t…you…you were out of my life.”

“Adrian…Adrian listen to me. It was just a dream. Well,” Melton paused, “sadly not the part about you being four foot tall, but how we left things.”

He wanted to cry, but the obvious had to be asked first. “How did we leave things?”

Melton reached behind him and cracked his back. He may not have been buried twenty-five years, but the dirt thrown on top of him had taken its toll, no doubt.


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