Red Dahlia

Lifting the Dixie cup into my hand, the cool sensation seeping through the paper automatically makes me think of dew bonded to individual blades of grass on a cool October morning. A quick glance at the liquid stirs the memory of deep red drapes hung lavishly at extravagant hotels and the piercing ruby colour that lights the sky during the first few moments of a sunset. I swish the drink around and bring it up to my nose, letting the aroma cling to every individual nosehair; my heart speeds up in anticipation just thinking about taking a swig. The sudden sounds of everyone around me taking drinks of their beverages pique my interest and I pause for a slight moment to listen to everyone elses reactions; moans in delight, even some squawks of disgust. I raise the drink to my lips and take the tiniest of sips, swishing the liquid around in my mouth. Almost immediately my taste buds rear and then relax in delight, the sultry liquid slowly making its rounds over every inch of my mouth. The taste is effervescence, joy, satisfaction, ecstasy. I set the cup down and relish in the flavour, a flavour that lingers in my mouth like a phantom liquid. I take in a deep breath and pick up the cup again, swallowing the rest of the juice in haste, letting it propel itself down my throat. I sigh in contentment. As I stand up to throw the empty cup in the trash I look into the empty abyss where pure regalement once was and my heart instantaneously drops; it's the last time I'll ever taste anything like that again. I saunter back to my seat and sit down, letting only my memory remind me of what rapture I just experienced.

My Extraordinarily Mundane Application

I am a game changer. Upon stepping on lego pieces, it doesn’t hurt. Indiana Jones asked me for aid on his last crusade. I never pass gas but if I did, it would be known as a natural resource. Santa puts milk and cookies out for me at Christmas-time. Third world countries have adopted the new ideology known as ‘Nicolism’. I can tie my shoes. Occasionally I try and do 5 impossible things before breakfast. During the last Indy 500, I did only one lap and still finished first.

On Thursdays I tend to stimulate my medulla oblongata. I play the French horn, the oboe and the kazoo…all at the same time. After reaching the end of the rainbow, most will find me instead of the pot of gold. After hiking to the top of Mount Everest, most will find me tanning. After waking up in the morning, most will find me taking a shower. Though it has taken me many years, I have finally perfected the recipe for ice. Alexander Bell invented the telephone, only to realize he had 6 missed calls from me. When I’m bored I like to count to infinity, thrice. Although it is not the greatest of common knowledge there are actually three sides to the Force: the light side, the dark side and myself.

I know my ABC’s.

 Casually strolling through parks, I find the time to save innocent kittens from trees. Romeo chose me over Juliet. In the Spring I plant flowers in the shapes of the Mona Lisa, Starry Night and The Scream. There is a picture of me on permanent display in the Louvre. In the Summer I divide my time into intervals, giving fruit pickers’ places to stay and saving children from drowning in the Okanagan Lake. In the Fall I rake leaves for the elderly, eventually creating the biggest leaf pile in all of history for little children to jump into. In the Winter I made a snowman, a snowman most formally known as Frosty.

I can dress myself.

I once fell out of bed, causing the 8.9 earthquake in Japan. I once yawned, creating the greatest song in the world. I once smiled, making the whole world put on shades.

'Once upon a time' were my first words, creating the basis of fairytales for the rest of history. My parents love me. Though all of these feats are phenomenal, I still have not yet been to university.

For the Good of the Team

Nicole Kiss
478 Main Street
Penticton, British Columbia,
V2A 3G1
March 20th, 2012
Mr. Kleats
Central High School
123 Main Street,
Sportstown, British Columbia
V2A 1W3

Dear Mr.Kleats:

My name is Nicole Kiss, my son Troy plays on your co-ed baseball team The Wildcats. Starting off, I would like to congratulate you on coaching the team to their first provincial win in years. The reason for this letter on my behalf is that I have a few slight concerns that were brought to my attention by my son and other parents. I’ve heard that you often arrive late, the practices are disorganized, more often than not most players receive no playing time at all, you use yelling to get points across and the main goal for the team is winning. I know that you are a busy man and I do appreciate all you are doing for my son to get him somewhere baseball wise but these issues need to be figured out in a mature manner.

I understand that you are a family man with many responsibilities to your wife and kid’s aswell but as the coach you have an obligation to your team to show up on time like the players do. An easy fix would be to bring on a parent or friend to assist you in your coaching so there is a parent present to watch over the minors. Troy has also explained to me that the disorganized structure of most practices makes learning new concepts a difficult task. I see where you are coming from in letting the kids do their own drills, but structure is indeed a good way for not only the team to better themselves but to learn life lessons aswell

As a coach I realize that you have to project your voice to address all the players on the team, but it seems that you scare the kids more than you try and encourage them. A good alternative to the yelling would be pulling the kids aside to tell them what they need to improve on instead of constantly yelling at them. Again, I would like to congratulate you on the provincial win, but winning is not the most important goal for a high-school sports team. As much as I would like for my son to win as many games as possible, I want him to experience being on a team and working with people to achieve something great.

I know this letter is unexpected but it was of serious concern to me and I felt like I needed to say something. Perhaps we could meet to talk over the points in this letter or even talk on the phone to work something out to not only benefit yourself, but to benefit the kids aswell; we’re really only doing this for kids. Thank you for taking the time to read this letter, I hope to hear from you soon.

Sincerely,

Nicole Kiss

A Moral Dilemma

Nicole Kiss
2471 Green Ave,
Penticton, B.C.
V2A 3X6

March 10, 2012

John Smith
Mayor
City Hall 568 Main Street
Penticton, B.C.

Dear Mayor Smith,
                            As a proud member of this village it has pained me to hear the heart-wrenching news about our beloved Gunter Grass. It is quite the privelage that you would ask for my input on this grievous matter at hand and I will try to help you out as much as I can. This is quite the burden to have been placed upon your shoulders and I apologize for the stress this must be causing you at the present time, but don't you worry this will be solved in an orderly and reasonable fashion. Without much further ado, I present to you my reasons that I think Gunter Grass should be turned the blind eye for his previous offences and given the freedom to live out his final years in peace.

A good first reason for you to consider sparing Gunter Grass' life is the good that he has done to make this village prosper and become what it is today. Gunter was a phenomenal mayor during the time that he was in power over the village, and without the contributions he made then and even now, our village would be in serious detriment. I understand that it is hard to turn your eyes away from his wrongdoings and instead shine a light on the positive effects he has had, but I feel that everyone deserves a second chance if they have put in the effort to turn their life around.

I am asking you now to take a look at the man that Gunter Grass is. He is a family man, a man with a wife, children, and even grandchildren. Though he condemned many innocent people to death, what kind of people would that make us to go around and kill him? We as people do not have the divine right to decide who lives and who dies. Gunter has proven his worth by investing his love into his family and those around him; he would be truly missed if he was plucked out of our society like a meaningless man. Gunter is one of the most respected men in all of the village and his sudden removal would pique the interests of those around him in a negative way.

Though I am trying to I suppose you could say protect Gunter from harm, this does not mean that I am justifying him for the killing of those supposed 15,000 people. The only plea that I can make on his behalf is that you realize he was just a kid when he was forced into that position; a boy of nineteen. Imagine being thrust into that sort of situation and losing all bearings of your previous life. Can you really blame him for doing everything in his power to survive, even if it meant doing the unthinkable for most people nowadays. Back in that period of time, what he had to do was very real and must have caused a lot of emotional turmoil for such a young man to get over. I grieve for every life that was lost to Gunter Grass' command and I hope the families of those deceased have fond memories of their loved ones.

Gunter Grass is a man, and all men deserve a second chance in their own right. I only hope that my input has landed somewhere in your mind where you can mull it over and see the points that I am trying to make. We all love Gunter dearly and I know even you would hate to see him gone. So instead of focusing on the negative let's rejoice in the positive and pretend as if the terrible bouts of information you have found never even existed. I hope my opinion has helped to lighten the load you have to carry.

Sincerely,
Nicole Kiss

Gettin' Georges goat goin'

“George looked up from shoeing the horse to see the outline of Curley's wife in the doorway of the barn. They were alone.”

George reeled back and held his breath, obviously struggling to string together words in a coherent sentence when Curley’s wife spoke.

            “I’ll be damn’d, is that a mouse in your pocket or are you jus’ happy to see me?”

            “Don’t you try and pull a fast one on me, make like a tree and leave. You’re not wanted here and you darn’d know that.”

Curley’s wife smirked and took a few steps closer to George with the purpose to get his goat going.

            “Oh George, din’t your mama ever tell you to min’ your p’s and q’s? That’s no way to talk to a pretty lady!”

George scoffed and looked around making sure their conversation wasn’t attracting any unwanted attention and took a few steps back, putting the horse between himself and Curley’s wife.

            “I trus’ you ‘bout as far as I could throw you, you have a motive for bein’ here, so spit out.”

Curley’s wife feigned being offended and let out a laugh the sound of tinkling bells.

            “Now my mama always taught me to take the bull by the horns n’ when opportunity knocks, to seize what is bein’ given to me…I’m jus’ tryin’ to get to know you better. Lennie sure ain’t no friend; but I could be.”

Curley’s wife beamed and ran her hand along the horses’ side as she leisurely made her way over to George’s side, armed to the teeth with charm. George grimaced and swayed from side to side, nervous as a cat on a hot tin roof.

            “Don’t you dare talk ‘bout Lennie like that! He’s a far better person than you could ever expect to be n’ you darn’d know it! You’re burnin’ your candle at both ends there, stop barkin’ up the wrong tree and mind your own god damn business!”

George tediously tried to catch his breath and pushed past Curley’s wife, stomping out of the barn and slamming the doorway behind him.

            “You can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, George! I’ll get you, just you wait!” Curley’s wife howled as George left the barn in haste.

George swatted the air as if trying to forget about seeing Curley’s damn wife at all and headed towards the bunkhouse and Lennie, hoping that somebody would teach her a lesson.

           

The Egger

The Egger                  

The egger. The delicious breakfast sandwich that most would wait in line for hours to get. Luscious egg, melted cheese in between an English muffin the consistency of biting into a cloud. I’m waiting in line during break, half a dozen behind me, and just one lonely soul in front…every single one of us eyeing the stack of eggers under the plexi-glass  window smudged with fingerprints from those before us. My mouth waters as the sweet aroma swirls into my nostrils and lingers and every person lets out a sweet musical sigh. I’m certain I’m going to get one and not one person in this line will be able to stop my lust for the precious egger.It's finally my year to get one I think to myself as my eyes glance around to see the other lower grade students in line. The egger might as well be surrounded by an aura of gold with angels humming melodies around it for that’s how beautiful it truly is. We shuffle forward, 5 minutes before the end of the break between classes and my egger desire swells to the size of the Grinch’s good heart. The boy in front of me reaches up and grabs one egger and I feel my entire body sigh with relief because I now know I will have one in my hands soon enough…and that’s when it happens. The boy doesn’t just stop at one, he grabs another, and another, and another until every single egger is stuffed into his pudgy hands. My heart shrinks automatically and my fists clench as the boy has a look of pure satisfaction on his face as he goes up to pay. I turn my head to glance at those poor unfortunate souls behind me and the looks on their faces almost bring tears to my eyes, but I shove the emotions down and slowly walk forward out of the lineup.I'M IN GRADE 12! I have the divine right to those eggers.  I see the boy across the common area handing out each egger he bought to his friends as I hang my head and walk to my next class. That boy may have won the egger battle, but my grade 12 self will rise again..

Nicole Kiss