By Julia Weiss
“But it's NOT blue,” Sandy said, throwing the tiny glass elephant to the ground. It shattered into a lot of pieces, maybe even 4,000 pieces, but I didn't count, because I'm just a 3rd person omnicient narrator and I wasn't actually there, partially because this is a made up story. Anyway, Sandy threw the wee fragile elephant down because her brother Carl insisted it was blue. She was angry because she didn't think the elephant was blue. Maybe you think Sandy is a jerk, but she was right. The elephant wasn't blue. It was green. Carl was being the jerk. He kept saying “It's a blue ElEphant, Sannnndy” all day long. I bet she really wanted to shatter a tiny glass Carl into 4,000 pieces.
I hope that your first impression of Sandy doesn't forever taint your opinion even though you now know the truth. That happens sometimes. When I was little, my parents would always tell me made up stuff to get me to do things they wanted me to do like eat stuff I didn't want to eat or wash my body or listen at school, and I believed them, and even after I found out they were making stuff up, I couldn't stop believing them- The crust of your bread really won't stop cancer, neither will cleaning between your toes and neither will 3rd grade.
So anyway, the elephant was so passed repair that it was just stupid when Carl went to get the pot of glue that their mother kept in the bathroom closet. Two things: 1. this story takes place long enough ago that glue came in pots. 2. What a dumb place to keep glue.
Carl was only getting glue so their mom would think he was the good child. What a jerk move. When he got to the bathroom he saw his mom putting away towels. This was perfect, Carl thought, because Carl's a total jerk. He put on this fake angel voice – I mean, I guess all angel voices are fake because there isn't a God or a heaven so there aren't any angels, but I mean, he faked this angelic voice so she'd love him best and he said “mommy, I-I-I-I need the glue.” Fake stuttering is a great way to make people think you're innocent and trying to protect your jerk sister. “Why do you need it,” Asked the woman old enough to know better than to trust a kid like Carl. “Well... soooooomeone broke your little glass elephant... the green one. I tried to stop it... oh mommy.” Carl jabbed his fat fingers into his eyes as he buried his head in his mother's apron and pretended to cry. Three things: 1. Carl's fingers aren't really fat, I just said that to be mean and in our culture we equate fat with bad, which is something I don't condone and I'm ashamed of myself for perpetuating that. 2. He poked his eyes to make them red and teary because he's a real jerk. 3. Sandy never gets away with this stuff.
Sandy and Carl's mother, who's a real idiot, dropped the towels and comforted her asshole son, pardon my French. “You're a very good boy,” she said. He's not. She took her pot of glue and walked with her still-fake-crying-asshole-son to the room where Sandy was sitting on the floor crying real tears of frustration. Sandy's actually a very smart and interesting child with a lot of good ideas that are quite advanced for her age but no one ever listens to her.
“Sandy” said the stern voice of a woman too dumb to know that her son's a real dickwad. “Did you break my tiny glass elephant?”
“CARL KEPT SAYING IT WAS BLUE!”
“No I didn't, mommy, -sniff-sniff- it's green, anyone can see that.”
“Sandy, it's not nice to lie about the color of elephants and it's not nice to break other people's things.”
“I didn't mean to... and... I didn't lie! I-” As Sandy tried to explain herself, her mother slowly started spreading glue over the frustrated little girl's arms.
“Sandy, I just don't think I'll ever get through to you. And I fear I can no longer try. Carl, sweetypumpkimuffiwumples, close your eyes.” Carl smiled and peeked through his hands as his mother slashed open a pillow. This was long enough ago that everyone had down pillows, I think that's a thing – I'm not really omniscient, that's just what they call this type of narrator, I don't know everything about the vague time period I've set this in. Anyway, the mom who favored Carl stuck the feathers who her weeping glued-on daughter, and told her to go outside this instant. Carl sniffle-smiled and his mother handed him a candy apple – it was just in her pocket waiting for a jerk like Carl. Within moments, an eagle swooped down and carried Sandy away. I know you'd like to think that Sandy lived happily ever after in an eagles nest, but she died.
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