Pastoralia By George Saunders. Possibly My Favorite

Oh, Hello," Dr. M Says, Shaking Balder's Hand. "wonderful Costume. I'm A Bit Of A Role Player Myself On The Weekends. Tell Me, Where Did You Get The Helmet?" It Was Forged In The North, Blessed By The Hands Of Odin, Given To Me By My Mother, Frigg," Balder Answers. Lovely. I Got Mine On The Internet.

I'm Floating Inside My Skin. I Could Go On Floating Like This For Days. Right Now, The Real World With Its Heartbreak And Disappointments Is Just A Pulse Against The Protective Membrane We've Drunk Ourselves Into. It's Somewhere Outside Us, Waiting." A Great And Terrible Beauty, Page 141, By

The Wolf Was At The Door. His Shadow Spilled Into The Room, Taking It Over.

We're In English Class, Which For Most Of Us Is An Excruciating Exercise In Staying Awake Through The Great Classics Of Literature. These Works - Groundbreaking, Incendiary, Timeless - Have Been Pureed By The Curriculum Monsters Into A Digestible Pabulum Of Themes And Factoids We Can Spew Back On A Test. Scoring Well On Tests Is The Sort Of Happy Thing That Gets The School District The Greenbacks They Crave. Understanding And Appreciating The Material Are Secondary.

The Night's Chilly Breath Tickles Up My Neck And Finds My Ear, Whispering Secrets Only The Wind Knows.