Flying Squirrel, Pennsylvania (Chapter 1)
AzzMazta
Valerie wanted to try out for basketball. Yes, basketball. And not be
segregated into a "girl's team", or be a cheerleader. Unfortunately, this
town was not very tolerant.
A suburb of Pittsburgh, Flying Squirrel was frequently marketed by
crooked real estate companies as a paradise, filled with trees, rivers,
lakes, and friendly neighbors.
Nothing could be further from the truth. Flying Squirrel was a
cleverly-spaced chain of suburbs, with a lake and a filthy park here and
there. Parents, children, and neighbors hated each other. Drugs, crime,
DUI, vandalism, and much more were prevalent. And given the town's taxation
system, there was no ticket out of Flying Squirrel without a winning
lottery number on it.
Why? The town government was run by the Squirrel Real Estate Trust.
The town WAS the Squirrel Real Estate Trust. Everyone who moved to Flying
Squirrel had to sign a contract which allowed for an additional variable
tax on top of existing state taxes. This tax, billed monthly, could be
changed at the Trust's whim without notice. To give the town a false
appearance, these contracts were usually signed in the better-looking
suburbs.
As the Trust wanted more and more people to tax, any attempt to leave
the town resulted in an extremely high "tax" on the household for the
following month or two.
And where was the State of Pennsylvania, or the United States federal
government, in policing this? The truth was that nobody gave a rat's ass
about Flying Squirrel. Pennsylvania was a blue state, and Flying Squirrel
was a Republican town. Regardless, representatives in both political
parties were former employees of the Trust. "Former" meaning resigning just
before the election, with the losers rehired by the following week. The
Libertarians, Greens, Socialists, and everyone else were always defeated,
with the election results never publicly questioned. As for the federal
government, there's always something more important to worry about than a
small Pennsylvania town's local small business sector. (A town that was
founded in 1921?)
Valerie was told that in order to be accepted into basketball tryouts,
she had to roam the streets and check every house for "the one person"
capable in Flying Squirrel of reciting 17 digits of Pi from memory upon
asking. Valerie knew this was total crap, since every resident of the town
is stupid. The schools keep it that way, as any authority in the American
education system knows, an active, rational, and skeptical mind is a threat
to the Establishment what/whoever it might be.
Valerie had checked 41 houses and had no intention of stopping. She
figured that if she made news headlines, the Daily Squirrel would focus
on this sexist behavior. Yeah, right. Go back three paragraphs.
It was getting late. She didn't care. Number 42. Knock, knock, knock.
A door opened. It was Biff, a friend she knew from school, and the first
person under the age of 24 she found. "What are you doing here?" he asked
in a slightly angry tone.
"Umm, Biff, hi. You're pretty smart, can you tell me 17 digits of Pi
from memory right now?"
Biff sighed. "Valerie, you have stumbled across a secret you may
not be able to handle. You must come inside right now."
"Biff, listen. I've gotta go. I know you, so could you please just
look it up on the Internet and lie for me to Coach Gilbert?"
"Valerie, you must come inside! Now!"
Valerie was shocked at how Biff was acting. "I'll do anything, Biff, I
swear, PLEASE just help me out. You're a good friend. Please?"
But Biff didn't have the same "anything" in mind that Valerie did.
"You'll do anything? Then come inside right now."
(t.b.c.)
--
AzzMazta
George Dance
I'm not really sure if this belongs here: it reads more like
conventional fiction than poetry. It is an engrossing story, though;
I'm enjoying it, and looking forward to Chapter 2.