Chapter I - Buying Some New Soap
written by Jordan Schumacher and Brent Nevy
It twas’ rather daft of a proposal to begin with, but nonetheless, there was mutual agreement among the two persons.
“Must you insist we purchase soap?” asked Jordan.
“I’m afraid I have to,” said Brent with hesitation, “for the old soap with which I have cleansed my hands has ceased to be.”
“Then we shall buy some soap,” firmly replied Jordan, “plus, I have to buy some bread.” “Maybe I could sanitize the bread with my soap.”
“But then I would not become ill.”
“Exactly.”
And so Jordan and Brent went on a journey, which was a deeply collaborative experience. Brent could not drive; Jordan could not read. Together, however, they were unstoppable. The Chevy glistened in the day’s atmosphere, and a scarlet beam projected outwards whenever the sunlight danced upon it.
“Where do they sell this soap?” pondered Jordan aloud.
“It may just be in a store,” replied Brent.
“What type of store?”
“Well, anyone selling soap must have a pretty clean store.”
“I suppose so.”
They continued driving for a while, down a few miles, a few streets, a few more inches upon the map. They were not going anywhere in particular, but they steadfastly kept pressing forward. Jordan was a determined driver, who only hesitated when he could not read a sign.
“Hold on,” Brent blurted out.
“What is it?” Jordan asked.
“If we go to a clean store, then they must not have any soap.”
“Why not?”
“It is because they use all of the soap to clean their store.”
“So you’re saying we have to go to a dirty store?”
“That is the logical conclusion I’ve reached.”
“I like it.”
Their sojourn to the commercial markets of America truly commenced once they had arrived at the store. The shoppe, an old Walmart, dully stared at the duo with its generic expression. Inside they went, and within the confines of the store, the two of them went their different ways. Jordan hurried to the bread aisle, and purchased what looked to be bread. Brent, though, seemed to have forgotten the purpose of their capitalist excursion. He dawdled for a while, surfing the current of shoppers and browsing for whatever his mind bothered to consider. All around the store he went before reviving his intent from the back of his mind. Finally, his train of thought reclaimed itself, and soon Brent found the soap in another aisle.
“Well, here it is,” Brent sighed, “after all of this time.”
Brent hurried to the bread aisle, where Jordan still was lazing around.
“You found the bread?” asked Brent.
“Yep,” replied Jordan, “and the soap?”
“Such I believe.”
“Then let us depart for another location.”
The two of them walked through the doors of the Walmart and were going through the parking lot. As they walked out, a peculiar sound radiated throughout the store with a jarring echo. It was the alarm.
“Odd sound coming from the Walmart, isn’t it Brent?”
“Yep.”
“Hurry up, I think some people are following us now.”
“Oh cool we’re popular!”
In the car they rushed, and out of the parking lot they drove, abandoning their newborn legal problems right at the Walmart.
Chapter 8 - (Insincerely) Lambasting Wordsworth
written by Brent Nevy
The current of the summer, stagnant and inert,
spent mulling over an issue while in the dirt.
Jordan and I come into this natural scene Of venues promised by sage ages as serene.
We stand on grounds meant for the earnest worm to weave,
Laced with many splintered sticks, thatched by tattered leaves.
It is hot, yet the mirthful breeze does not flow here,
Especially in this much lauded time of year.
Wordsworth once pronounced nature’s serenade,
And denounced the civilized life we made.
Yet wonder by wonder our progress moves,
And all of man’s blunders are by it are soothed.
Capricious and erratic is the life we see;
A volatile force tranquilized through society.
Bitten by a sick flea? Stung by irate bees?
I’d rather it not be some life for you or me.