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I was walking to class, and I got to Shaw Lane before I realized that finding my penis was so much more important than learning Latin.  So I turned down Shaw Lane and headed toward Beal Street.  When I got there, I couldn’t remember which house I was at, and every yard was littered with beer cans and plastic cups.  I searched every yard on the street, moved every beer can I could see, checked every bush, every cup; I even knocked on most of the doors, when I came to the right house.

Some guy answered the door.  “Hey, man, what’s up?”

“Did I party here last night?”

“Yeah, you stripped on the porch, passed out under the kitchen table, and woke up and just left, man.”

“Cool.  This is going to sound pretty fucked up, but I can’t find my penis, and I was wondering if you would call me if you happen to find it.”

“What the fuck?!”

“I know, but it’s gone and I need it.”

“Fuck, man, whatever, yeah.”

I wrote my number down and finished my search of the street.  I was standing at the end of the road when I remembered that I like to go to the botanical gardens when I’m drunk.  So I headed there, searching the ground and bushes along the way.  When I got to the gardens, I began pulling flowers out of the ground and looking over the area.  Again I came up with nothing.  I decided that I needed to talk to the police and get an APB put out on my lost buddy.  As I was walking to the police station, I came to a trail in the woods.  A trail that leads from Beal Street to my dorm.  So I began another search.  I moved every dead log and went through every leaf pile I could see.  Still I found nothing.

I had been searching since about eleven, it was almost three now, and I was really losing my grip on reality.  I mean, when you’re as stressed out as I was, you tend to get so desperately frantic that you don’t really know what is going on around you.  I was so absorbed in my search; I even turned down pot from a passing cyclist.  I sat down at the end of the trail and stared crying.  I mean, bawling, with big tears and sobbing and all that jazz.  I just wanted to die.  I no longer had anything to offer.  Who would marry a penisless man?  I mean, I imagine a vaginaless woman would, but I had never heard of this sort of thing happening before.

As I was crying there, a woman approached me, “What’s wrong?  Are you ok?”

I held back my crying so I could talk.  “I woke up this morning and went to take a piss.  I was standing at the toilet, I looked down and my penis was gone.  I can’t find it anywhere and I’ve been looking since eleven this morning.”

“Wow, huh, that’s quite a dilemma.  Maybe I can help you.”

I told her as much as I could about what I had done the night before, and where I had already looked; she agreed to help me.  She decided to look in all possible trails and paths to get to my dorm, and I decided to go to the police.  “When I’m done there, I’ll meet you here in an hour.  Cool?”

She agreed and we parted ways.  I walked to the police department trying to figure out how I was going to explain to them that I had misplaced my penis.  If you want a challenge, try that one.  I mean, think about it, what the hell do you say to someone to try to get them to help you find your missing penis.  People have sympathy, but cops, they just laugh at you.  And that’s exactly what they did.  I spent a half hour in the station trying to convince them that this wasn’t a hoax.  Finally I stood on a desk and dropped my pants.  Every cop in the room stopped what they were doing.

“Shit, I’m sorry.  I don’t know what to say.  Can I touch it?”

“Fuck no you can’t touch it!”  What the fuck kind of question is that?!  “Will you please help me?  Please, what would you do if you lost your penis?”

“Well, we have your statement; we’ll get on it right away.” 

“Thank you.”  I pulled up my pants and went to meet the woman that decided to help me.

When I got to the trail, she wasn’t there.  I began to look for her, and my penis, when I came to a street light.  There was a flyer stapled to it.  LOST PENIS: REWARD.  Please call 353-8721.  Ask for Rachel.  What the fuck!  I went straight to my dorm and called the number.

“Hello, is Rachel there?”

“This is.”

“You put up flyers?”

“I figured if anyone found it; they’d return it.”

“I thought you were going to look for it.”

“I thought that this would be a lot less work.”

“Whatever.  Thanks.”  I hung up the phone.  I sat back in my chair, and threw my phone across the room.  I laid down on my bed, stuck my hand down my pants and began to hold the region where my penis used to be.  I started to rub the area in small circles.  It felt good, so good if I had had a penis, it would have been hard.  And just as I started to think that maybe I could get used to having nothing there; just as I started to succumb to defeat, I started to fall asleep. 

I don’t know how long I slept, but I woke up to the phone ringing.

“Hello?”  I rubbed the tiredness out of my eyes.

“Hey, it’s Rachel.”

“Hey.  What’s up?  Did someone find my penis?”

“No, not yet.  I was just thinking that maybe we should sit down and try to figure out what might have happened to it.  Maybe you could remember more of what you did last night.”

“Yeah, maybe.  I’ll meet you at your dorm in a couple hours?  Is that ok?  I need to take a nap.”

“Yeah, sure, just come over when you’re up.”

“Alright, later.”  I wrote down her dorm building and number.

I laid back down and fell asleep.  I started to dream about the night before.  After the party, I wandered around campus looking for my dorm, when I laid down on a bench in front of one of the buildings.  Before I fell asleep, some girl got me up and began to walk me home.  I went inside and fell asleep on the floor.

The dream restarted, but this time it was a guy who walked me home.  Just as I laid down on the floor, the phone woke me up again.  It was Rachel.

“What happened to you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s been five hours.  I thought you were coming over.  I’ve been calling for the last forty-five minutes.”

“I’m on my way right now.  I’ll be there in a few.”

I hung up the phone and headed out the door.  Just before I locked it, I realized I had to take a piss.  I walked to the bathroom and unzipped my pants, stood there for a minute, smiled at my foolishness, pulled them down and sat down.  You, see my body totally rearranged itself.  Now, I had one hole for two jobs.  Anyway, when I was done, I pulled up my pants and headed for the door.  Before I left, I called Rachel.  “Hey, you know what, nevermind.  I appreciate the help.  Thanks.”

“Wait, don’t you want to find it?  I mean the little thing’s out there all alone.”

“First off, he’s not a little guy.  He can take care of himself.  And secondly, if he wants to come home, he knows where we live.  I’m just going to let him have his space and I’m sure he’ll come around.  Thanks again.”  And I hung up the phone.  I grabbed myself a beer and sat down to check my email.

-Jesse Churchill

“Amelia!”  I looked up at a fat girl in pigtails and a red dress running towards me.  “Hey, hey how are you, huh?”  She was breathing fast, her fat cheeks all red from the exertion.  “I was wondering if I’d ever see you again!”  She said with a smile, wrapping her thick arm around my small shoulders.  I closed my eyes and kept on walking.  “Hey, wait up!”  I boarded the waiting bus and nodded at Patrick, the driver.  He had more freckles since the last time I saw him.

“Amelia, girl,” was all he said in his soft Irish voice.  I liked Patrick.

I sat down and the fat girl, Ginger, squeezed in next to me.  I didn’t know why she insisted on following me.  “My mom...”she stopped, hesitating before going on, “My mom said I should keep an eye on you.  Just to see if you’re ok and all.”  I closed my eyes again and sat motionless until we arrived at school. 

Everything was just the way it had been except for the awkward silences that settled on everyone whenever I walked past.  I didn’t have any friends before I left and I didn’t have any now, but now I was different, like a Negro in a southern Baptist church.  My peers didn’t know how to handle being around me, and for that matter, neither did my teachers.  I could tell the adults felt they needed to say something, but whenever they did they quickly closed their mouths and patted my shoulder, as if that small act of comfort was all I needed.  I tried not to care, but a part of me wanted someone to say the right thing.  The one thing I had needed to hear in a month that would make me feel right inside again.

At the end of the day I was walking home because I had intentionally missed the bus.  I knew Patrick would understand.  I was watching a wren build a nest when I heard the sound of tires behind me.  A black sedan pulled to a stop where I stood.  “Amelia, it’s a long walk.”  I stared at the man inside.  Mr. Sanders.  “I’ll give you a ride.”  I started to say no when he reached over and opened the door.  “Please.”

We drove in silence for a few long minutes before he broke the quiet.  “Amelia, I’m so sorry.” He glanced over at me.  “You’re a smart girl, so I’m going to be straight with you.”  He waited, and when I offered no response, he continued on.  “I loved your mother.  Nothing can change that.  I loved her more than I can ever imagine loving anything else.”  His hands started to shake, and he pulled to the side of the road.  He turned off the car and faced me.  “She was so amazing.  Like a fire that never went out.  Every time she looked at me, I felt like collapsing at the knees, and when she laughed Amelia..." he stopped to wipe the corner of his left eye, “Good God, when she laughed itwas like the first day of spring.  New.  Pure.  Refreshing.  I can’t even tell you how much I loved her.”  I bit my lip to keep from crying.  He didn’t love her like I did.  “I just want you to know that, ok?  I don’t know why she did it.  But I don’t want you to think it was me.  Please don’t think that, ok?  God, Jacqueline!”  He broke down and started bawling, tears falling down in huge drops and wetting the collar of his carefully ironed shirt.  I opened the car door and started running.  Images of my mother, images that I didn’t want to remember, started rushing through my head.  I had gotten an A on my math test and was skipping through the door, waving the test paper, excited to show my mother.  She had worked so hard the night before the exam to teach me the right way to figure out long division.  I opened the door to her room and saw her asleep under the covers.  “Momma, look!”  I said, excitement keeping me from letting her sleep.  She had been sleeping a lot lately.  I climbed onto her bed.  “Look, Momma, look!”  I nudged her gently.  She didn’t wake up.  “Momma?” I said, nudging her again.  And again.  “Momma!”  I rolled her over and then jumped back.  Her face was bluish white and cold.  “Momma!  Momma!  Wake up!”  I screamed and screamed.  I had never seen a dead person before, but there was no way she was alive.  No way.  On the nightstand by her bed was an empty bottle of pills.  Underneath the bottle was a note.  Amelia, read the top, in mom’s perfect cursive.  I picked it up, shaking all over.

 Amelia, you are my sunshine.  You are what I love most.  I’m going to heaven early baby, just so I can get it ready for when you get here.  Don’t be mad, sweet babe; I love you more than life itself.  Thank you for always being my sweet baby girl.

                                                                                    Love, Your Momma

Five hours later, Mr. Sanders found me asleep next to my mother’s cold body.  Next I remember I awoke in my trembling Grandmother’s arms.  She had been holding me too tight.

I ran into my room, dusty and sweaty from the road and sun.  The doll was lying on my bed where I had left it.  I picked it up and squeezed it against my chest.  I wept, my body shaking with sobs.  When I felt like no tears could possibly ever fall again, I placed the doll in an old shoebox.  Then I took her outside, back into the woods behind my grandparent’s house, and dug a hole as deep as I could.  I put the shoebox in the hole and packed the dirt tightly around it.  I laid wildflowers on top of the grave, and then walked home.  When I got there, Grandpa was waiting.  He hugged me close and kissed the top of my head.  “Amelia, my precious little doll.”

-Andrea Schreffler

"What a Trip" by Chelsea Fisher

The engine was making funny noises again. The whir and hum as it starts, and then a ringing when it gets going, like an empty oil pan, maybe? In the mornings, when I first put the key in and start it, the engine sputters and stalls. Hopefully, it will just die soon, and I will be spared its toils, but what a horrible thing to wish for. Priority dictates I need a vehicle, but not this hateful old one. In a perfect world, the car would do what I want it to, when I want it to. It would know my thoughts and needs.

      Cartoony eyes, big black and white ones, with Pacman-like pupils and three chopstick-thick eyelashes: this is me in a perfect world. “What are we doing today?” A huge vacant smile that takes up half my face completes the carefree occasion.

      “Looks like we need to clean out my belly, for starters. For hor dourves, McDonald’s French fries salvaged from the bottom of your seats. DEE-lish! Ow! They’re still hot.” The car has a high-pitched whiny voice, with a rumble at the end of her sentences. The fries erupt joyously from the crannies in the backseat.

      “MMMM!!!! They are delicious. What else are we having?” I have cute red pigtails along with my cartoony eyes and enormous white teeth and my voice is also high-pitched but no rumble or whine. I figure it just must be a cartoon car thing.

      “MMMmmmmmmrrrrrr! I think I found a half full bottle of Snapple’s peach tea. You shouldn’t drink it though, who knows how long it’s been fermenting? So let’s toss it out the window, mmkay?” Lulu, the blue Buick, makes a navy blue hand out of the front door handle and from it, a tea bottle materializes, half full. The window whistles as it goes down and a little drum roll starts. 

      “Dun-da-na!” Lulu tosses the bottle out the window. I giggle as it boomerangs back onto my windshield, a pale orange spray and broken glass that congeals, but not for long as Lulu’s patented flippy-flappers spring to life. There is a passenger with me, a furry 2-foot tall hamster. He jumps in the seat. “Oh my! You should be more careful. You could get fined! Or go to jail. Oh dear.” The hamster, Reason, fretfully balls his little paws together and chirps nervously in the seat next to me. I laugh some more. “Oh, you silly little rodent. We have naught to worry about.” I whistle and black notes emerge from my mouth. Lulu hums along and more refuse flies out the window. We continue along the path, never needing gasoline; slowly it becomes evening. We encounter a car on the side of the road, miles from any town. I start to slow down, a surge of want-to-help rises within me, and my cartoony smile widens. Reason pipes up, “Hey! Don’t slow down! They could be rapists! Murderers! Tax evaders! Eeek!” He covers his head with his frantic paws and Lulu puts out a fanfare of welcome from the horn as we slow down. I continue to ignore Reason and say, “Or, they could just be broken-down. Jeez, Reason, lighten up, it’s a wonderful night to help someone!” I blink, once, then twice and scratch my head as I study the car. 

      “Lulu, do you see what I see?” 

      Lulu makes a tsking noise. The stopped car was pitching back and forth. “If the boats a-rockin’, don’t come a knockin’!” She rumbled a laugh. I get out, leaving Reason behind, and step toward the back of the rocking car. I am 6 feet, 5 feet away. Before I can reach toward the trunk hood, all of the doors, with an audible *pop*, open and hundreds of stuffed animals boil out from the car. I hear laughing and the car continues to rock. I peek inside and see something so bizarre and obscene that I cover my eyes and turn away with embarrassment. I could hear Reason squeaking from far away, “Come back! Don’t look in there!” I look again and it shames me to speak of it, even now. Inside the car, two grown men were literally, I mean seriously, ripping apart a defenseless teddy bear by the arms. “It’s mine!” A violent tug and laughing from one side followed by another tug from the other man, “No, this bear is most definitely mine!” The ferocity of their tug-of-war with the poly-filled plush toy was making the car rock so. I walked back to the car and Lulu rumbled her laugh and Reason still had not uncovered his eyes. We started along the road again, Lulu humming the whole way. I find some more hot, tasty French fries in the console next to me along with a package of M&M’s and some Oreos, not even stale! I ask Reason if he wanted any and he just squeaked and continued to look ahead and to the sides in a panicky way. “Suit yourself.” I take my seatbelt off, readjust the seat to an entirely reclining position, and continued to munch on the treats I found. Reason gasped again and barely squeaked out “What are you doing?! Put your seat back up this instant! You are DRIVING!” I merely peered at him over the top of a Fritos bag and simply said, “Lulu can handle it just fine.” Reason sputtered and faded, nearly translucent in the moonlight streaming in from the window. “I have been abandoned.” Reason looked at his little paws, a huge tear from his beady little eye dropped onto the seat. A navy blue hand once again formed from the door handle and a little metal hamster wheel materialized in the palm. Reason shrunk to normal hamster size and his eyes, so bright and sad, looked at me morosely before he jumped onto the hamster wheel. The window whistled once again, the drum roll started again, and Lulu cackled as the wheel, hamster and all, was pitched out the window. Alone with the car, I contemplated what we would do now, but without Reason, I just sat and ate. Lulu, now fully in control of herself, put on the brakes and threw herself into neutral. The car stalled. I continued munching on Fritos as we rolled up and down the steep hills. 

      Lulu hummed and then finally just stopped. A man with a business suit and a briefcase strode up to us. I looked up as he smiled and introduced himself. He had blue halogens for eyes. “Hi there! My name’s Bins Fullajunk. I sell vacuum cleaners and all sorts of nifty gadgets.” Bins began chewing on Lulu’s left side mirror and broke the window as his hand came through to shake mine. I just held my hand out and sat there without thinking about the shards of glass puncturing my eyes. “You know, your vehicle is exceptionally filthy. Absolutely despoiled. I can taste the grime on your mirror here.” He retracted his stiff arm and started dancing the Robot. “Anyway, I’m going to set up for you a payment plan, suited just for your needs! Here are some FREE SAMPLES.” Baby wipes, trial sized shampoos, ear plugs, and ibuprofen spat out of his briefcase as well as a 15 year old brown Filter Queen. “Just sign here, here and initial there. Oh, and I’ll need your thumbprint.” I did as I was asked and left my crumby, bloodstained thumbprint on the paper. He rattled his jaw some more and I urged the car to go and leave him in the dust. Lulu rumbled to life and said “Roger, roger.” We took off at a whopping 35 miles per hour and crept away from the blue eyes in the rearview. I began to miss Reason, his self-conscious squeaks and his panicky demeanor were sickeningly endearing. Lulu growled, deep, and throatily said, “Don’t miss that has-been, will-be nothing! We can have a whole lot more fun without him.” 

      I was becoming confused, Reason had left me and I did not know what to do besides mindlessly let myself gorge upon the feast. My cartoony eyes hurt my face, they let in so much light through the torn parts. I articulated something about the un-fun-ness of being hornswaggled by a robot man selling vacuums. Lulu came back with, “What’s done is done! Have some more French fries!” I stuffed more tasty fries into my already full mouth. They had pieces of window in them. The glass, a savior, embedded itself into my brain, through my bloodstream, bypassing the stomach entirely. The glass that got in my eyes had deflated them and made the globby things melt off of my face. With the eyes gone, my immortal smile also diminished to a normal sized fleshy one. I could now think clearly again, even without Reason. I pulled my seat back up and strapped on my seatbelt. I tested Lulu’s reflexes and ripped the wheel left. I then slammed on the brakes in the turn we were in and we started careen toward the ditch. Lulu could no longer know my thoughts, I guessed, because I no longer heard her speak. All I heard was a screech and then scratching as we fell sideways into the ditch. The airbag inflated, and I was spared head injury. All that I suffered was a few cuts, from the already broken window and the loss of Reason, who still is lost to me. Lulu did not speak again, or even start again after that night and I heard she was ravaged for parts. Meanwhile, I decided that I was going to get a new car, not a perfect one, but one that preferably didn’t whine or rumble.

-Chelsea Fisher