**NO!’’
      I
      screamed.
      After
      what
      seemed
      like
      min-
     
     
      utes
      but
      was
      really
      hours,
      I
      saw
      my
      parents
      and
      Chris
     
     
      walk
      into
      my
      room.
      Justthen,
      Markcamein.
      —
     
    

    
     
      ‘*Mr.
      and
      Mrs.
      Powers.
      Chris,’’
      he
      said
      weakly
      as
     
     
      he
      stood
      in
      the
      open
      doorway,
      snifffing.
      My
      mom
     
     
      rose
      and
      hugged
      him.
      They
      stood
      there
      crying
      as
      he
     
     
      said,
      over
      and
      over
      agian.
      ‘*She
      wouldn’t
      wake
      up.
      I
     
     
      shook
      her,
      but
      she
      just
      woulé’t
      wake
      up,’’
      he
      cried.
     
     
      ‘*Please,
      may
      I
      stay
      here?
      I
      ¢on’t
      want
      to
      leave
      just
     
     
      yet,’
      he
      asked
      quietly.
     
    

    
     
      ‘Of
      course,
      dear,
      we’ll
      call
      your
      family
      now,’’
      my
     
     
      mom
      answered,
      as
      she
      wiped
      her
      eyes.
      I
      couldn’t
     
     
      stand
      it
      anymore,
      I
      turned
      away,
      tears
      stinging
      my
     
     
      eyes.
     
    

    
     
      ‘*If
      only
      I
      had
      stayed
      home
      from
      that
      stupid
      party
     
     
      like
      I
      was
      supposed
      to,
      none
      of
      this
      would
      have
     
     
      happened!’’
      I
      shouted.
      Finally,
      I
      just
      sat
      on
      the
      back
     
     
      deck
      all
      night.
     
    

    
     
      The
      light
      was
      just
      beginning
      to
      appear
      in
      the
      sky
     
     
      when
      I
      saw
      my
      mother
      in
      the
      kitchen,
      wearing
      the
     
     
      same
      clothes,
      as
      the
      night
      before
      making
      breakfast
      for
     
     
      the
      others.
      Everything
      looked
      like
      a
      regular
      morning
     
     
      except
      Mom’s
      face
      was
      res
      and
      blotchy
      and
      her
      eyes
     
     
      bloodshot
      from
      crying
      and,
      of
      course,
      I
      wasn’t
      there.
     
     
      She
      picked
      up
      my
      personalized
      napkin,
      mine
      out
      of
     
     
      the
      set
      I
      made
      for
      each
      of
      us
      in
      the
      family,
      and
      held
      it
     
     
      to
      her
      face.
      My
      father
      walked
      in
      and
      hugged
      her.
     
     
      **Everything
      will
      be
      all
      right!’’
      I
      heard
      him
      comfort.
     
     
      Chris
      and
      Mark
      came
      ddownstairs,
      and
      walked
      into
     
     
      the
      room,
      unsmiling,
      unexpressive
      like
      zombies,
      their
     
     
      eyesred
      from
      crying.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      I
      wanted
      so
      much
      to
      go
      over
      and
      smile,
      saying,
     
     
      **Look,
      everyone
      I’m
      here!
      That
      wasn’t
      meat
      that
     
     
      party.
      It
      was
      all
      a
      bad
      dream.’’
     
    

    
     
      **A
      simultaneous
      bad
      dream,’’
      a
      voice
      inside
      me
     
     
      said.
      ‘‘Is
      it
      really
      possible
      for
      five
      people
      to
      have
      the
     
     
      same
      nightmare
      at
      the
      same
      time?
      You
      really
      screwed
     
     
      up
      this
      time,
      Kid!’’
      itscolded
      me.
     
    

    
     
      **Yeah,
      I
      know,
      but
      it
      wasn’t
      supposed
      to
      turn
      out
     
     
      this
      way.
      I
      had
      so
      many
      plans,
      dreams.
      If
      only
      |
     
     
      hadn’t
      taken
      taht
      damn
      sigarette!
      One
      puff
      certainly
     
     
      goes
      along
      way.”’
     
    
   
   
    
     
      The
      next
      few
      days
      before
      the
      funeral
      melted
      inot
      one.
     
     
      There
      were
      a
      lot
      of
      people
      at
      my
      funeral.
      It
      was
     
     
      awful
      seeing
      all
      my
      family
      and
      friends
      sitting
      in
      the
     
     
      church,
      crying,
      comforting
      one
      another.
      After
      the
     
     
      service,
      my
      coffin
      was
      taken
      to
      the
      cemetary
      for
     
     
      burial.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      My
      family
      and
      friends
      crying
      was
      the
      last
      sight
      I
      saw
     
     
      as
      I
      turned
      and
      wal}:
      :d
      slowly
      away.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      LEFT
      OVER
     
    
   
   
    
     
      There
      was
      a
      park
     
    

    
     
      where
      an
      old
      willow
      tree
      stood,
     
     
      bowing
      her
      head,
     
    

    
     
      staring
      into
      a
     
    

    
     
      clouded
      pond.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Her
      long,
      straight
      hair
      fell,
     
     
      covering
      her
      face,
     
    

    
     
      hidden
      thoughts,
     
    

    
     
      rustled
      by
      the
      wind,
     
     
      revealed
      her
      worries.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Children
      cirled
      around
      her,
     
     
      dancing
      and
      chanting
      rhymes.
     
     
      Loners
      leaned
      against
      her,
     
     
      reflecting
      their
      lives
      by
      the
     
     
      uncleared
      pond.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Willow
      sighed
      when
     
    

    
     
      men
      came
      with
      machines.
     
     
      Her
      leaves
      shaped
      of
      tears
     
     
      fell
      into
      the
      pond
      with
     
     
      pain.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Casino
      glittersin
     
     
      darknesss.
      Beside
     
     
      stands
      an
      old
     
     
      grave
      stone:
     
     
      Willow’s
      stump.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Kheng-Wee
      Wah
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Sunday
      Evening
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Guffawing
      idiots
      as
      far
      as
      the
      eye
      can
      See,
     
     
      All
      must
      be
      the
      victinis
      of
      lobotomy,
     
     
      What’s
      so
      goddamn
      funny,
     
    

    
     
      They
      must
      be
      getting
      money,
     
    

    
     
      Finally,
      I
      can
      no
      longer
      stand
      it,
      ,
     
     
      South
      of
      the
      border
      to
      kill
      Bob
      Saget.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Written
      in
      twenty
      seconds
      by
      Kirby
      Ferguson
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
      UPEI
      X-P
      RESS
      September
      26,
      1991
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
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      lé