Struck by Lightning: The Carson Phillips Journal (16 page)

CLOVER HIGH SCHOOL, CLOVER, CALIFORNIA—Due to the latest budget cuts made by the state earlier this year, Clover High School had to lay off two janitors and force one into early retirement before the school year started. When asked about the unfortunate dismissals, Principal Gifford had this to say: “We were very sad to say goodbye to the members of our staff, but unfortunately, we were left with no choice. Voters put that schmuck in the governor’s office, not me.”

However, after further investigation, it appears there were many choices made this year when it came to budgeting.

“We’re so excited we get to play football this year with brand-new uniforms and equipment!” said a football player, who would like to remain anonymous in this piece. The new gear is courtesy of the school. “We’re number one undefeated, and I’m glad the other teams we play against this year will know that just by looking at our bling!”

According to a recent Google search, the average cost of a typical high school football uniform can range anywhere from $100 to $500, depending on the girth of the player. Given that there are at least forty players on the Clover High team, the amount the school paid could range from $4,000 to $20,000, which would have been an ample sum of money to keep three working fathers employed for a few months longer.

There’s a major difference between “no choice” and a bad choice.

For more information on this matter, please visit the
Clover High Chronicle
Facebook page or e-mail the writer at
[email protected]
.

Small-Town Sex Scandal

BY CARSON PHILLIPS

September 26, 2012

CLOVER HIGH SCHOOL, CLOVER, CALIFORNIA—Last Thursday afternoon, Mr. Armbrooster, a veteran health teacher, was escorted off campus by school security. He had been fired for quote “teaching sexual education lessons with inappropriate objects,” but the exact details of these alleged lessons remained undisclosed.

When asked about the situation, here is what one freshman girl had to say: “Mr. Armbrooster was a pretty cool guy. So what if he used a Gumby action figure and a jar of Play-Doh to teach about the female reproductive system? Gumby kind of looks like a fallopian tube. You can’t deny that.”

“We’re not stupid,” said a male classmate. “We know the uterus isn’t lined with Play-Doh—you’d have to be an idiot to think that. All I know is that I got a B+ on that test. Thanks, Mr. A!”

In fact, that seems to be the common consensus among his students. When you compare the test scores
of Mr. Armbrooster’s class with any other of the health classes at Clover High, you can see a major difference. The average student tests 20% better if they are subjected to Gumby and Play-Doh.

“Mr. A gets fired for using props in his class, but Mr. ***** sleeps with all his female students and gets tenure? That’s messed up!” said a peppy school counselor who wishes to keep her identity a secret.

It’s messy, it’s not fair, and it doesn’t make sense. I wonder what preschool toys Mr. Armbrooster would use to explain this situation to us.

For more information on this matter, please visit the
Clover High Chronicle
Facebook page or e-mail the writer at
[email protected]
.

The Overworked Princess

BY REMY BAKER

There was once a little princess who had several responsibilities. Her parents, the king and queen, put way too much pressure on her since they had troubles managing the kingdom. Although she was very beautiful and bright and constantly excelled in everything she did, her parents always thought she could do better.

Every day, the little princess would bring her parents examples of all the things she had accomplished that day, and every day they had a way of making her feel like it wasn’t good enough.

“Look, Mom and Dad, I got an A in my peasant-appreciation class!” the little princess said.

“You’re better than this,” the king said, looking over the report.

“We’d be more pleased if it was an A+,” the queen said.

The little princess ran out of the castle and into the forest and cried under a small tree, feeling like she would never be good enough. The tree magically came to life.

“Why are you crying, my little princess?” the magic tree asked her.

“Because I’ll never be good enough for my parents,” the little princess said. “I try so hard but they’re never pleased.”

The magic tree gave the little princess a magic book, full of photos of her accomplishments and her friends. “Here. Every time you feel sad, I want you to look at this book and remember all the good things in your life,” the tree said.

The little princess looked through the book and instantly felt better. She dried her tears and went back to her castle. From then on, every time her parents made her feel small, she would look at the book and remember all the things that made her so great.

She kept the book for the rest of her life, well into her queenship, and shared it with all the princes and princesses who later became her children and grandchildren.

The End
.

Creatures of the Darkness

BY VICKI JORDAN

It was a world of vampires and demons, where innocence was rare and so were the living. It was a world of darkness, where light had been outlawed and nightfall had swallowed us whole.

An epic war had been fought, and the creatures of the dark had finally prevailed over the promoters of the light. Finally, for the first time in existence, the people of the shadows could come out and freely walk among one another in the rays of a dying sun, which had once been used to shun them away.

A little girl, a child of the light, had survived the battle and crawled out from under the ashes of the destruction. She looked around at her altered world in dismay and confronted a vampire about the changes, of which she did not approve.

“Why did you turn my world into a world of night, and make wrong into a new form of right? How could you make all the light disappear, and with it everyone I once
loved so dear? Why are the shadows now the new sun, and why is everything lost what you have won?”

The vampire looked down at the little girl with amusement and delight.

“Because, little girl, this is the real world you see, where there’s no light to shine on false identities. We didn’t destroy the world just to scare; we simply uncovered what was already there. What has come out was all the darkness that was once hidden within, and you’ll soon meet the darkness in you once my fangs pierce your skin.”

We are our own greatest fears.…

Top of the Pyramid

BY CLAIRE MATHEWS

Every Friday night at halftime my cheer team pulls off one of the most dangerous stunts in the cheer world. We call it the Cheermageddon.

Three pyramids are formed in a line. A girl on the top of the center gets jolted in the air and does a back-flip while the two girls on the tops of the other pyramids flip underneath her, switching places before the center girl gets back.

While it’s hands-down the best crowd-pleasing stunt we know how to do, it’s also the most dangerous. I love being a cheerleader, but being at the top of the pyramid means you’ll get hurt the most if you fall. Being the smallest girl on the team, I’m also the girl on the center pyramid virtually risking her life every week for the enjoyment of others.

It makes me wonder, would it be so entertaining if the crowd knew everything was going to be all right? Or are they all just secretly waiting for someone to get injured?

People are constantly put on pedestals in our society,
sometimes for the wrong reasons, but mostly because they’re doing something or capable of doing something that no one else can. But do we give people that status just so we can watch them fall? Sometimes I think the worst thing you can do to someone is idolize them or make them out to be anything else but human; then you’re only giving them room to disappoint you.

When I’m thrown up in the air every Friday night, for a split second I feel like the loneliest person in the world. I think,
Wow, no one can reach me up here
. And when the momentum is over and gravity starts to pull me back down, I’m so thankful to be on the ground again. I just hope the momentum never pulls me down too far.

The Color Green

BY JUSTIN WALKER

I like the color green. When I see the color green it makes me think of trees and grass. When I think of trees and grass, I think of football. When I think of football it makes me happy.

I know I’m not the brightest bulb in the knife drawer. People call me stupid, idiot, and a Neanderthal (even though I’m not from the Netherlands) all the time. But if the point of being alive is to find out what makes you happy, then I’m pretty much set. All I have to do is look at the color green.

So who’s the idiot now?

I also like the color blue. When I think of blue I think of the ocean. When I think of the ocean I think of bikinis. When I think of bikinis I think about all kinds of things that make me happy, and they’re not green!

At least I hope not. If they are, you should probably see a doctor instead of inviting me back to your parents’ beach house. That’s just gross and rude. Seriously, girl, you live at the beach—please shower more. You don’t know what might be crawling on you.

Scott Thomas’s “The Marquee”

I’ve always known that I was destined for fame. The image of my name in lights over the Clover Community Theater marquee isn’t just a vision, it’s a premonition.

If you’re thinking,
But Scott, you’re not
leading man
material—you can never be the star of something
, then I have two words for you, but since I promised myself I wouldn’t swear in this essay, I have another two words for you:
You’re wrong!

There isn’t just one cookie cutter in the shape of
stardom
, my friend; it comes in many sizes and colors. You just have to map out your own destination to it.

One day, I will produce, write, direct, and star in my own one-man show. It’ll premiere at the Clover Community Theater, but the reviews will be so spectacular the show will go on the road. We’ll hit all the major cities (except Chicago, because I can’t risk the wind) and I’ll gain a massive fan base.

I’ll sell the movie rights to the highest bidder, maybe go on
Jimmy Fallon
and tell him how the dream all started, and after a long and luscious career I’ll retire and punch
out a couple autobiographies, which will then be turned into massive Broadway musicals.

Ambition doesn’t grow on trees, girlfriend. You gotta grow dem leaves yo’self.

Every day when you wake up, take the Scott Thomas approach to life. Imagine your own marquee with your own name in lights so bright you’d go blind if you stared too long at them. Imagine that marquee following you around wherever you go, letting the world know
you’re there!

Scott Thomas in Geometry! Scott Thomas in the Locker Room! Scott Thomas in His Car! Scott Thomas in the Bathtub!
Live your life the way all the greats did, with your name contractually above title. Never be a sidekick to your own life!

Unstoppable Love

BY NICHOLAS FORBES