Thirteen narcissists in a room.
Milk Toast,
which the university press declares
"a wry and energetic romp"
chronicling the misadventures
of an associate professor struggling with success
and an arranged marriage gone awry.
He admires the glossy cover of his book
while the rest of us huddle in groups of four
to discuss dialogue construction.
"Good dialogue should sound real,"
someone offers.
"It should advance the plot,"
says another.
They turn to professor.
He nods.
"Alright," professor says,
"here comes a timed exercise
to help you think more creatively."
He produces an assortment of newspapers
and instructs the class to find story ideas
in the headlines.
"You have twelve minutes."
I'm handed a paper
and encounter a piece covering
a group of Japanese students
who built a world-record-breaking,
one-hundred-foot-tall structure
made of Legos.
The Japanese celebrated
with a parade of streamers,
fireworks, and musicians.
The fireworks grew out of hand.
The wooden platform supporting their creation
caught fire.
Attempts to control the blaze failed.
The structure collapsed.
A photo shows teenagers
standing in horror and weeping.
The headline reads:
JAPANESE LEGO-TOWER RECORD
DESTROYED BY FIRE.
But those students:
the months of planning and labor,
their monument to God knows what
disappearing in flames.
I pass the paper.
Others scribble furiously,
pencils racing.
"Time's up!"
I get the hell out of there
and hustle to the Student Union Bar
before the story
gets away.
**First published in The American Dissident
**Illustration by Morgane Xenos