Editors Note: The author directed this story to the politicians of America.
By Casey T.
“Pop! And out of the toaster he goes. About half the size of the hands that usually kill my kind, Mr. Slapstick Mistair is only a shadow, or at least that’s how I see it from this perspective. His height occasionally changes depending on his surroundings. You see, I am a fly or a gnat as I am otherwise referred. Everyday I dive and dodge those angry human hands, pondering the purpose of which it is so important to these beings that I must be dead. My goal is to avoid them in accordance to their intentions, yet Mr. Mistair seems to ignore them entirely. ‘Don’t they see him?’ I’ve always wondered.
I have experienced the phenomenon many times over: shortly after the smaller version of the thing that tries hard to eliminate my existence retrieves their breakfast from the toaster, the handle magically presses down once more. In due time, it pops up and out comes Mr. Mistair. Every morning I take his appearance quite strikingly. He is usually clothed in suits of stripes and wears an elegant fedora along with impossibly shiny leather shoes. His eyes are bright yet mischievous all the same, and his figure quite lanky. He looks as though he is an animated cutout of black cardstock; his dimensions are definitely not distinct. My perception of his façade changes at every glance I get of him.
To the best of my abilities, I will share what I know about this mysterious man.
Constantly singing, everyday after the front door is shut, no humans are in sight, and the toaster returned to its neutral position. I still don’t quite understand his existence and it still puzzles me where he came from, who he is and his purpose. To the best of my knowledge, I believe he is oblivious to my presence.
Last week, I found him flipping through an enormous photo album of the family who occupies this residence. He slipped in and out of the pictures themselves! However, he seemed to especially take interest in the negative that accompanied them, the more he slipped through the world that was represented in each frame, the darker his appearance became. The usage of the negatives was peculiar from my standpoint, but I’d rather be confused then to have the will power to get his attention. On days when he came out from his initial hiding place he was literally grey in color. Then he slowly made his way to the photo album, found the negatives, and his original vitality and color returned.
One day, the small child had left a glass filled halfway to the rim with water. Seeing this, Mr. Mistair held the facial expression of a confused dear caught in the headlights of a car, but it soon changed to pure glee. He leaped in the air and clicked his heals, dancing on the rim until he dived right in. My theory that he must be cardstock was soon eased after he emerged from his dive untouched by a single drop of water. From that day forward, I have given up all theories and have chosen merely to overlook his actions.”
This seemingly pointless fantasy brought up an entirely different aspect as to how my mind creates things. None of the events described above actually happened. In the modern world, this thought process unfortunately applies to the minds of many soon to be leaders and overall representatives for the people of this country. How do we expect to believe the false information that is often spewed in televised or public events that are used to persuade the population for the winning vote? How can we leave today’s problems with individuals who often use the same technique I demonstrated above just to apply their opinions in what they think is best for the people of this country? As a student who attempts to actively observe political situations, I have created this ridiculous story to mirror what I often believe you, as politicians do just to receive one more vote than your opponent. To think that you expect us to believe these theoretical facts or prepositions that will “change America” is disappointing and shameful. However, these snide techniques more often then not are indeed used to your advantage.
Others, of course, are entitled to their own opinion, but I can’t help to think that I’m not the only one who believes this is so.