Schrödinger’s Parrot by Marc Alexander Valle

Schrödinger’s Parrot

by Marc Alexander Valle

I jumped for the tether-ball pole and grabbed hold of it. I was safe, and I could catch my breath. I looked around the playground to see if anyone else saw how quickly I dodged Calvin.  I turned to him and said, “I’m safe. Safe zone.”

And Calvin said, “You’re fast.”

And I said, “My dad ran track.”

And he said, “I couldn’t catch you. You’re fast.”

And I said, “Thanks.”

And he said, “Want to keep going?”

And I said, “Yeah.”

And he said, “Then you’re it. I’m fast too.”

And I said, “You know when we die, we can see everything. Like anything you want to know and you can see it.”

And he said, “You’re weird.”

And I said, “No, I’m not.”

And he said, “That’s weird.”

And I said, “No, it’s not.”

And he said, “I don’t want to die.”

And I said, “Me neither.”

And he said, “That’s weird.”

And I said, “Are you gonna tell anyone I said?”

He looked away for a second. Then turned to the hopscotch girls. They played their game, a game I never understood. For all I knew, they were just randomly jumping and making up rules as they went along. I looked at a group of three kids, standing by the school entrance. They were always standing there at recess. Just standing and talking. Maybe I should have hung with them instead. 

And he said, “I’m gonna play hopscotch.”

And I said, “With the girls?”

And he said, “So?”

And I said, “I was just saying.”

And he said, “So what?”

And I said, “Are you mad?”

And he said, “No.”

And I said, “You gonna tell them?”

And he said, “No.”

He turned and walked away. I watched him as he walked up to the hopscotch girls. I turned and walked towards Gus, sitting on the bench by himself. 

And I said, “Hey.” 

And Gus said, “Hey.”

And I said, “Calvin’s mad.”

And he said, “What happened?”

And I said, “I don’t know.”

And he said, “Why?”

And I said, “I don’t know.”

And he said, “What’d you do?”

And I said, “I don’t know.”

And he said, “What happened?”

I turned back and looked at Calvin and the hopscotch girls. He just stood there and watched them. I waited for him to say something. But he did nothing. 

And I said, “I said that when we die, God is so strong that he shows us everything and whatever we want to know. Like math class and stuff.”

And he said, “Yeah?”

And I said, “I’m not good at math.”

And he said, “But he’s mad?”

And I said, “Yeah.”

Gus looked away and towards the ground. I thought he might ask me another question. A question that would lead to a question and lead to him taking Calvin’s side. The side of the hopscotch girls. The side of the entire school. The side of everyone. The side of the world. 

And Gus said, “That’s weird”

So I said, “That’s what I said.”  

The Bucket: A Flash Nonfiction by Marc Alexander Valle

“Wax on, wax off,” I said. Tanya laughed. I continued with more impersonations.

After the fourth minute, it was indisputable. The second grade blackboard was clean. I would have to impress her another time.

“Alright,” she said. “Mrs. Reed makes us dump the water in the sink when we’re done.”

Tanya approached the sink. I followed.

“I got it,” I said, taking the bucket from her.

“Mrs. Reed told you how to dump it, right?”

“Yeah! Watch.”

I grabbed the handle with my left hand and lifted. It wobbled. I held the bottom with my other hand. All I needed was to get it above the sink, way above, as high as I could get it without getting water on the counter.

Tanya stepped forward, “Mrs. Reed said–

I tilted the bucket.

“Just make sure you pour the water sl—

I dumped all of the water into the sink in one shot. Nearly all of it splashed back.

Tanya backed off a step.

I backed off a few.

But it was too late.

“Oh my God! You got water all over my dress.”

I looked at myself, “Yeah, I got it on me too.”

“Why’d you do that? You were supposed to pour it in.”

“I didn’t know.”

Students got out of their seats, looking over.

“Ooohhh, weeee,” they said.

I turned to Mrs. Reed’s desk.

She was walking towards us. I placed my hands in front of me to cover the water.

The Ride by Marc Alexander Valle

“You guys want to stay here and watch Transformers,” my dad said. “Or do you want to go on a ride?”

My older brother voted to stay at the department store to finish the episode on a big screen color TV.

I voted for the ride.

“Well, you guys have to figure this out,” my dad said.

I turned to my brother, “I want to go on a ride.”

“I want to watch Transformers,” my brother said.

“I want to go for a ride!”

“I never saw this on a big TV.”

“What’s the ride?” I said to my dad.

“Well, you’re not going to see until you get on?”

“I want to go on a ride,” I said to my brother.

“I don’t want to go,” he said.

“But you’ve seen this one,” my dad said.

“Yeah, we saw it!” I said.

“No.”

“Come on!”

“No.”

“I want to go!”

“No!”

I want to gooooooooo!

He looked over, “No.”

I turned to my dad: “I want to go for a ride.”

“Well,” he said. “Since you guys can’t decide, you can watch this at home.”

“But it’s gonna be over then,” my brother said.

“It’ll come on again.”

We went on the ride. It was a five-story, downward spiral car ramp. The one we were always going to ride if we wanted to leave the parking lot.