Chinese Dragon, by Christopher Schmidt

Phillies, by Nicole Davis

Lola, by Geoffrey Wiggins

Springtime: New Beginnings, by Steven Collier

As the bitterment of winter begins to thaw, I find myself in a difficult position: I need to get moving. Winter is a wonderful time for the all-American slacker. It’s a season which perfectly suits the professional procrastinator’s sensibilities. We become invisible, strickly speaking, no one should be active during winter. The advent of the 9-5 work schedule can hardly expect to take precedence over milennia of evolutionary conditioning. Basic biology mandates we should all be hibernating, and somewhere in the reptillian recesses of our society’s hivemind there is a dim recognition of this fact.

For the underachiever, these are the banner months, where our apathy becomes indistinguishable from the general holiday malaise which effects all normallyproductive, industrious citizens. Where my fatigue is disguised beneath layers of snow and ice.

But, it’s not winter. It’s spring. And I am once again out of a job. And people are once again starting to notice. All around me, like locusts, my peers are awakening groggily from their annual stupor. Yawning, they greet the new year and slouch on towards new prospects. But me, no. I’m still hammering away at my internal snooze button, desperately striving to postpone my own awakening for “just five more minutes.”

Lest you think me lazy, I suppose I should clarify a few things. I’m not opposed to work, to progress, per se. Those are relatively benign experiences, some would say inevitable, but the fact that “regression” exists proves this to be a blatant fallacy. I’m getting off topic. I do that when I’m trying to avoid an issue. Like my lack of prospects . . . God . . . just five more minutes.

My patron advocate from the Office of Vocational Rehab doesn’t know what to do with me. There’s a position for some kind of job opening in Newtown Square . . . possibly they have a month-long internship this summer to test its viability. Unpaid. He’s optimistic. Thinks I should plan on relocating closer to the hypothetical worksite . . .

You know the tenets of modal realism state that I am currently holding down any number of jobs across an infinate number of possible universes. So, cosmologically speaking it makes sense that one of me should be taking it easy for all of my potential labors. I’ve probablistically earned this!

Five more minutes . . . Just five more minutes. I’m begrudgingly updating the resume. I’ve thought up some great new exaggerations and half truths to market myself. For instance: I sold a book on ebay. I’m ______ SEO writer with a focus in establishing sustainable online market places. I also have about 700 other books to sell . . . they’re filling up a quarter of my room . . . I should get on that . . . ugh. No! No! I am the proprietor of a longterm storage-facility specializing in warehouse overstock. Yeah . . . that’s it.

Just five more minutes. . .

Like a Flower that Blossoms, by Judith Burns

Green and Bay, by J-Bob Elliott

“Green and Bay” from 3/11/15

Once upon a time there was this big black bear who was all alone although he really wanted friends. There was a bunch of bears, deer, and turtles who spent all day together sitting in the sunlight having fun. A single frog would watch them from afar. He was too afraid to approach the other animals as he had never had a friend. The frog’s name is Green and the bear’s name is Bay. There was a little girl bear named Molly who was very approachable. Bay thought about Molly a lot and finally got the nerve to ask her out. Molly yelped in glee that she would accept his offer to take her out! He laughed and laughed. Because he knew how it felt to be alone he decided to invite Green along as well. They all became fast friends.