An Armless Girl and a Pirate

By Marzipan Maddox

This is a story that follows two disabled girls as they graduate from school. They are caste into the job they will work until they die by the totalitarian state they live under. The friends venture into the unknown wilderness of the workforce and discover the significance and meaning of thoughts and feelings in a world that reminds them those things as entirely insignificant if not dangerous.

This is a satirical work that entertains the notion of developing a philosophy in a society where one is expected not to think. It is almost entirely a dialogue written in a style similar to Plato. Lighthearted, sardonic, and cynical, the wise mentor casually consoles of the woes of daily life as felt by a girl whose fragile mind is shattered by the revelations of adulthood.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Marzipan Maddox
• Release date: Mar 9, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463431375

Marzipan Maddox

Me: I'm a good person. I'm a kind and loving person. I've written a considerable amount of objective essays on Medium if you're looking for cut-and-dry real world arguments or shorter books.The books I write are full of the characters I enjoy. I write books because I can seldom if ever find a person to engage in conversation with me beyond whining, crying like a child, or asserting their supremacy above me due to their illiteracy, so my characters serve as sane, intelligent, and rational people that I can have conversations with.I dislike most people because they're endlessly flawed, but flawed in ways that makes them boring, trivial, childish (more than me), annoying, stupid, basal, and otherwise unpleasant to be around. My philosophy is objective, realistic, and anti-humanist.My first book probably needs another round of editing, but I'll get to that when I can.Allegedly: A disagreeable person, not a "real" philosopher or political theorist (all of them are whining douche-bags circle-jerking each other with their heads up each other's asses apparently. Having talked so some who perceive themselves as such online, it makes me glad I'm not one.). I'm a narcissistic cynical misanthrope with a god complex. Allegedly possesses high degrees of intelligence and emotional intelligence. Considerably mentally ill.

Book preview

Foreword

I wrote this book sporadically and rather indifferently from 1/6/19 to 3/2/19, edited from 3/4/19 to 3/9/19. I don’t have much to say about it. I tried to be less pedantic and political than in my previous book.

Author’s Note

This book and the previous book were written at 11 point Calibri font, and styled at copy paper width. I realize that this style doesn’t translate well into the electric medium and sometimes creates page long paragraphs, but it is what it is.

Copyright © 2019 841B81AC6F18ACEBDF9BC8FDD0C4C78EE83D11D588682F4527091465E199D44E

All rights reserved.

1.1

Wake up, Effie. Says a small girl, lightly slapping the cheek of another lying in bed

Damn it, Mable; let me sleep. Says Effie

No. You need to get up; I’m not getting in trouble. You have a big day today. Says Mable

Fine. Don’t remind me. I’m sure you’ll be glad when I’m out of your hair. Says Effie, sitting up in the bed, squirming out of the covers, still wearing shorts and a t-shirt from yesterday

I’m sure you’ll come to visit at least. Says Mable, who goes back to her desk in the small room, sitting at a computer

You’re fond of talking to ghosts, are you? says Effie, grimly

Don’t talk like that. It’s just graduation. I’m sure they’ll find something for you to do after school. I know I’d rather be graduating, I’ve still got 4 whole years left. Says Mable

What exactly do you think a job entails? What could I possibly do? asks Effie

I dunno; something. Everybody gets a job after they graduate from school. Says Mable, off-handedly

I don’t go to shool, Mable. I go to the pen. You get prepared for life, I just get put in a holding facility while our parents are at work. Says Effie

It’s still school, even if it is for people like you. I’m kind of jealous that you never have to do homework or anything and you still get to graduate. Says Mable

You learn things in school. I don’t go to school, Mable. Says Effie

It’s called ‘District 47 School for Special Needs Children’; it is still clearly a school. Besides, I’m sure they taught you something, even if you don’t want to admit it. Why would the send you to school if they weren’t going to give you a job? Says Mable

I don’t think you understand the concept of a job. Says Effie

Maybe I don’t, but I don’t really care. Says Mable

You don’t care? You don’t care about the fact that I’m going to die today? You’re sitting there playing that horse game on the computer, and you care more about that than my life?! asks Effie, rather weakly, saddened more than upset, indignant

Well, you’re not going to die. I’m sure I would care if that were going to happen, but you’re just getting a job, and yes, I do care far more about my horses than whatever stupid job they’re going to give you. They would have killed you when you were born if they wanted to kill you. You know they actually do that to people, right? Says Mable

I know this, and I can’t fathom why they decided to let me live. What job do you think I could possibly do? What skills do I have? What am I even capable of? asks Effie

I don’t know anything about jobs, stop asking. I mean you have plenty of skills anyways. You’re good at talking, you’re super nice. I don’t know. You have big boobs, too. That has to count for something. Says Mable

I don’t have any arms, Mable! says Effie

Well, didn’t mom always say you could just be a mother? That probably answers your question right there, anyways. Says Mable

Why would they want more kids like me? I can’t even hold a baby! says Effie

Stop talking, just go eat breakfast. I don’t know these answers. I’m 10 years old. Mom left you some oatmeal on the table. I already ate. Says Mable

I’m not hungry. Says Effie

I’m sure you will be later, but I’m not your mom, so do whatever you want. Says Mable

How are you so captivated by this horse game you play? How long have you been awake? asks Effie

Only like 2 hours. I kept the sound off, why are you upset? asks Mable

You woke up at 4 in the morning to play with your horses? asks Effie

The horses need to be fed and taken care of. I already won two races, and somebody even gave me $5,000 just to have Candy-cane Rainbow breed with one of their mares. Besides, one of my foals was sick and I had to take care of her. Says Mable

Why do they let kids play that game? asks Effie

It teaches them the importance of responsibility and teaches them the value of hard work. Says Mable

How is betting on horses either of those things? asks Effie

I have to take care of them, because if your horses aren’t in good health they won’t win races and you will be poor. I don’t even bet on horses, I only take the prize money that my horses win. It teaches you that gambling is bad because you almost always lose your money. So it’s a perfect game for kids. Says Mable

Fine; whatever. I don’t care anymore. Says Effie

I thought you liked horses, anyways? asks Mable

I do. I just think you’re a bit too captivated that game. Says Effie

I just have work ethic, unlike somebody here. Go eat breakfast and get ready for school. Says Mable

Fine. Says Effie, getting off of her bed, leaving the yellow light and horse posters of the bedroom, walking into the dark hall, into the kitchen, sitting at the table, the purple glow of the twilight illuminating the darkened kitchen through the windows, she slides into her spot at the small table, looking at a bowl of now cold microwaved oatmeal and a spoon sitting next to it. She grabs the spoon with her foot, leans over the table and begins to spoon the food into her mouth handedly, eating steadily, with conviction. She finishes, leaves the spoon in the bowl, walks to the sink, sits on the counter, grabs a coffee mug from the counter with her foot, holding under the faucet she turns on with her other foot, filling it, turning off the faucet, and chugs the water diligently before placing the mug back on the counter, hopping off, then returning to her bedroom, her sister still on the computer.

I don’t know why you’re so worried about this. Says Mable

Maybe it’s because I’m supposed to get a job, yet I can’t do a god damn thing, Mable. Says Effie

Don’t you have like actual retards in your class? Clearly you’re more capable than they are, yet they are still alive. What about that magic trick you can do? Asks Mable

I’m sure that they can still pull some damn lever in a factor or push a broom. Why would I even bring that stupid magic trick up? It’s totally useless. says Effie

That’s a gift, you know that. People like that are rare in the world. Says Mable

Gary told me it’s useless, and I don’t see why I should doubt him. His job is literally to prepare people like me for work, and I’m sure he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth if it was even possibly worth something. says Effie

Still, just show the caste officer your skill, maybe he can think of something useful you can do even if Gary can’t. says Mable

What job involves making a needle float with my mind? I can’t even control it to the point where I could sew, so that’s completely useless, especially since sewing is done by machine, which requires two hands and a foot last time I checked. Says Effie

You are pretty good at poking me with that needle, so I wouldn’t say it’s completely useless. Says Mable

That’s all I can do! That’s worthless, you just grab the needle out of the air and that’s the end of the story. You taped the needles to the desk, and that’s all you had to do to make that ability completely useless. Says Effie

Well, it’s still pretty cool. I’m not clever, but I’d still show it to them, just in case it’s useful somehow. Says Mable

I’ll just go with my boobs at that point. Says Effie

That’s probably a better idea, but just a little icing on top, you know? I’ll give you a needle if you promise not to poke me with it. Says Mable

I’ll take anything I can get at this point. Says Effie

It’s better than nothing. I hate to leave my horses, but we should get ready to leave though. Are you supposed to dress up for this? asks Mable, closing out of her computer program and shutting down the computer

No. God, no. There is no dignity in this. says Effie

I think it’s important. Mom got you that pretty dress just for special occasions, and I think you should wear it. Says Mable, looking into their closet

No. You can see my little nubs when I wear that dress, and that’s embarrassing. Says Effie

Whatever, I think it looks nice. You don’t even have nubs; those are just your shoulder bones. Peggy has nubs. Says Mable

It’s still weird looking. Says Effie

What about a blouse? Asks Mable

Just normal clothes, please. Says Effie

Your loss, they might take a picture and you will be the only one who didn’t dress for the occasion. Says Mable

If I’m going to die, I’m going to be comfortable when I die. Says Effie

Fine. You’re not going to die, anyways. Come here. Says Mable, grabbing a t-shirt out of the closet, Effie walks over, and Mable begins to strip her

I’m so jealous of your boobs. Says Mable, putting a bra on her sister

You’re 10, I’m sure yours will be just as big as mine. They’re not that big, anyways. Says Mable

They’re way bigger than Peggy’s boobs. Bend over. Says Mable, changing her sisters panties and putting on a pair of neon rayon shorts

Whatever. I’m also taller than Peggy, so that’s half of it. Says Effie, bending forward to allow her sister to put a t-shirt on her, sitting on the bed, Mable gets some socks, putting them on, before putting her sisters shoes on

See, you won’t even be positive about your boobs. That’s why I don’t care about whatever silly thing has you feeling hopeless. Change is always scary, but you tend to overreact to anything negative. Don’t forget your needle. Says Mable, prying a needle out of the tape and sticking it through the collar of Effie’s shirt, getting her backpack, leading Effie into the bathroom

You need to pee? asks Mable

Yeah. I’m nervous. Says Effie

Figured. Says Mable, who pulls her sister’s pants down and begins to brush her teeth, Effie waddles over to the toilet, Mable spits, cups water in her hands, swishes it and spits again

Done? asks Mable

Yeah. Says Effie, Mable wipes her, pulls her pants up, flushes the toilet, then washes her hands, grabs her sister’s electric toothbrush, puts toothpaste on it, sits on the counter, and begins to brush Effie’s teeth

If you move to some new job, I don’t know how you’re going to get by without me. Says Mable

I can brush my own teeth you know. Says Effie, spitting

Barely. I’ve seen you try, and it’s not pretty. Says Mable, as Effie leans her mouth into the stream of water to rinse and spit again

The damn thing gets slippery with toothpaste drool; otherwise I wouldn’t have an issue. Says Effie

Let’s go. Says Mable, turning out the light, leading her sister through the kitchen and living room area out the door of their apartment, locking the door behind her as they exit into the hallway before leaving the building and heading into the city

1.2

The city bustles, the girls walk.

If you leave, I wonder if they’ll make us move, since technically we don’t need a ground floor apartment if you’re not with us. Says Mable

We never needed one, they just gave us one because I’m handicapped. Says Effie

It’s still nice. I’d rather not have to walk up and down three flights of stairs every time I want to leave the house. Says Mable

Heaven forbid something gets in between you and your horses. Says Effie

If three flights of stairs cause one of my foals to die because I couldn’t give her medicine in time, I’m not going to be happy. Says Mable

Not the foals. Says Effie, feigning seriousness and concern

It is serious, don’t give me that. Says Mable

Clearly, as it’s undoubtedly far more serious than me losing my life. Says Effie

First of all, my foals could actually die, and secondly, you’re not going to die. Like I said, you would already be dead if that were the case, so just give it a rest. Says Mable

Is that what they teach you in your normal little school? asks Effie

I mean they mention that, but it’s not really important. It’ just like a fun fact I guess, they brought it up once because Nancy’s sister got put down when she was born. They said her life would be miserable, she could never work, and it would be cruel to keep her alive. I don’t know what was wrong with her, something terrible I guess. Says Mable

Somehow I think somebody just forgot to do their job when I was born. That describes my life to the t. Says Effie

Shut up. You’re happy most of the time, and I’m sure you will get a job like everyone else. Stop talking like that, it’s getting on my nerves. Says Mable

Sorry. What about your school, is there a graduation today? asks Effie

Most people have already been caste, if you’re still there and you’re 14, I think you’re going to become a teacher or something that works in a school. Seniors, spend the entire year just doing aptitude tests mostly. There’s no reason not to let somebody work who can work, at least that’s what they tell us, so getting caste early is kind of a status symbol when a certain guild was so tempted by you for whatever reason. Says Mable

Have you piqued anyone’s interest? asks Effie

No, I wish. I’m just normal for the most part, I’ve still got years to go and I don’t show ‘exceptional aptitude’ for anything. I’d give anything to be out of that school. 3, maybe 4 more painful years of school, 8 to 4:30 and homework every night. Says Mable

I don’t know if you’d want to be working, you’re only 10 you know. Says Effie

Well, if I was naturally good at something I don’t think I would mind. Fang Zhou was picked by the actuary’s guild; he’s the only one from my class so far. He was super smart though. Says Mable

That kid must have been something else. Says Effie

I don’t know; he was quiet. They said they take people young because it takes a lot of training to be an actuary, and he should focus on that instead of other things. I know his English wasn’t very good, but they didn’t care. It’s not really about what you can’t do, it’s just about what you can do, so the rest of the stuff doesn’t really matter. Says Mable

Let’s just hope that I’m actually capable of something of value. Says Effie

I’m sure your aptitude tests said you would be good at something. says Mable

We’ve never taken an aptitude test. Says Effie

Well, then I don’t really know. I guess they just give you a simple job that doesn’t require any aptitude. Says Mable

I’m chomping at the bit. Says Effie

That’s what matters. Just look enthusiastic and I’m sure you will be fine. Says Mable

I’ll do my best. Says Effie

This is where we part ways. I’ll see you tonight, or whenever you come home. Says Mable

One last hug for your sister? asks Effie

You’re being overdramatic. Everything will be fine. Says Mable, hugging her sister

Let’s hope so. Says Effie

Show them that trick. They’ll love it. Says Mable, letting go

It probably won’t matter, but I’ll do it for you; maybe they can put it to good use. Says Effie

That’s the spirit. Ta ta. Says Mable, leaving, entering the tall wide concrete building known as ‘District 47 School 4’, blending in among other a few nondescript children slowly funneling into school early

Cheerio. Says Effie, in tender, vulnerable optimism, only for the sake of her sister; she continues to walk down the street

The buildings are functional, sensually aesthetically neutral; seductively forgettable. The people with grey jackets and white shirts, grey pants, black shoes, walk with purpose to work; those in jumpsuits walk with grim conviction. The roads brimming with crowded busses and commercial vehicles. A few passersby frown subtly at the girl, most pay her no mind. She grimaces. Walking, she reaches her school and goes inside. The first door enters into the receiving area, the receptionist looks at her silently, grimaces slightly, and returns to looking at her meaningless papers.

Effie enters the door behind the receptionist, and enters the short hallway, doors on each side, entering the one at the back; entering a large room, a small gymnasium of sorts with scattered chairs. An empty wheelchair sits next to a weightlifting bench; a Negro youth with muscled arms is bench pressing intently, his spotter a Caucasoid horse of a man whose face has been deformed by Down’s syndrome.

Three apparently normal boys sit at a table, discussing things with hubris. A girl sits in a corner, her back against the wall, wearing modest a black and white dress from a bygone century, looking into a top hat with a blank expression. One girl, pale with black hair, sits in a loose fitting white dress, wearing black sunglasses, staring at the far wall across from her, a cane lying beside her.

One girl sits near the center of the room. Dirty blonde hair, a healthy tan, a modest bosom beneath a loose half buttoned blouse, wearing rugged, brown denim shorts; an ambitious grin and head-banded leather patch over her right eye, looking excitedly at Effie with her one blazing eye; waving her right hand, at the end of her other arm a hook with a plastic cap on the point, sitting in her lap; her left leg crossed over her right, man-like, in a four, her brief shin invisible, her leg suddenly disappearing into a peg-leg vacuum sealed onto the nub of shin.

About time! I figured if anyone was going to be late, it was you. Says the girl

I’m not even late, Peggy. Says Effie, walking down and sitting in a chair next to her

Still, the early bird gets the worm, so they say. You wouldn’t want to look irresponsible, at least not today, of course. Says Peggy

Let’s hope there are enough worms to go around. Says Effie, pessimistically

You sourpuss. This is the greatest day of our lives, at least so far. No more holding pen, we’re finally going to be let loose upon the world. Says Peggy

If my brain is no longer a part of my body when I’m ‘let loose’ upon the world, tell my sister I told her so for me. Says Effie

You’d have to have a brain for that to be true, so you’ve nothing to worry about. I’m sure they can put those boobs of yours to good use somehow, feeding babies or something nice like that. Says Peggy

That’s basically what my sister said, so let’s just hope I’m at least good enough for that. Says Effie

You brought a needle? asks Peggy

You can tell I’m desperate. Says Effie

I don’t know; it’s a cool trick, but I don’t think it can compete with those breasts of yours. Says Peggy

For some reason I don’t have as much faith in you or my sister that my boobs will actually give me a job. Says Effie

Well, you’re also an idiot, and there are plenty of jobs where those boobs would come in handy. Says Peggy

Wetnurse? asks Effie

Wetnurse, stripper, dancer, therapist, comfort girl. You’ve got a comfort girl look to you, and to be fair that no arms shtick is great, you know how paranoid government men are. Says Peggy

It’s not a shtick. I just don’t have any arms. Says Effie

It’s a shtick. It’s your shtick. If you call it a disability or special needs that seems like something is wrong with you, but if you call it a shtick, it’s hilarious and also an advantage because you know how to put it to good use. Like I said, at a bare minimum you’re a comfort girl, and that’s a good life there, hell, even a therapist, you’re good at talking; everybody needs to cry into some milk pillows every now and again Says Peggy

The Negro screams with bestial fury as he continues pumping out reps on the bench.

Jesus Christ, Amos. What are you doing? Are you going to beat the cast officer to death? asks Effie, sitting a polite shouting distance from the young man, he roars as he puts the bar back on the rack

Bitch! I’m getting my pump on! I’m gone let these guns do the talking today. Says Amos

Language! Shouts the man, sitting at a desk, never breaking his empty gaze upon the celling

Sorry, Gary. I just lost my temper. Says Amos

It’s cool. Stay cool, and we’re cool. Says Gary, returning to his magazine

Cool. Says Amos

Cool. Says Gary

You’re in a wheelchair, what kind of job would you ever do where you need to be strong? asks Effie

Fuck if I know. I’m just saying it looks better than being some weak looking piece of shit. Shows I know how to work hard every day. Says Amos

What happened to language? asks Peggy

Just don’t call each other mean names, other than that it doesn’t matter. Swearing is a good stress relief, unless of course your provoking people with it. Today is a stressful day for all of you, I’m sure. Says Gary, not looking up from his magazine

Yeah, what Gary said. When’s that caste officer getting here anyways? Says Amos, wiping himself with a towel

Freckle past a hair. Says Gary, looking down at his naked wrist before returning to his magazine

You worthless, Gary. Says Amos

I work here, I know this. Says Gary

Damn, that’s cold Gary. You a chill motherfucker, and that’s quality. People assholes, but not you Gary, you chill. Says Amos

Thanks, my man. Says Gary

How is that not language? asks Peggy

That was complimentary. Like when two black people call each other nigga. Says Gary

My nigga. Says Amos, with boisterous respect

Gary, is there anything we should know about today? asks Effie

No. The man just comes in here and makes a decision, that’s that. Says Gary

Well then… says Effie, as a large man with equal heft and muscle walks through the door, dressed in a civilian’s military uniform, adorned with three meaningless emblems that signify his insignificance

Speak of the devil. Says Gary, taking his feet off of the desk, unnerved by the presence of the man

Good morning, everybody! I am Caste Officer Jenkins, and I’m sure you are all well aware of what is happening today. Today is graduation, and I wish you all the best of luck. He says, the children look at him nervously

Well then! Let’s begin! We will be headed outdoors into the yard to begin. I trust you can corral the children if necessary, Gary. Says Jenkins

Amos, make sure Horse goes outside with everyone. Says Gary

He’ll just follow everyone. He’s not that stupid, damn. Says Amos, Amos hop-slides into his wheelchair, the children all get up and head out the back door into the ‘yard’, a rather narrow double-width alley-way behind the building, Peggy and Effie the last to exit.

Line up against the wall and face me. You will tell me your name, and what exactly is wrong with you, and then I can make a decision. Says the Officer as he walks to the first in line. You look healthy, go head, let me down. Says the man

Percy Stevens, sir. Says the boy

Well, what the fuck is wrong with you. Says the Officer

Humanism. whispers the boy weakly, the Officer withdraws his handgun, points it at the boys skull as enraged fury fills his face

Live by the sword, die by the sword. He growls, and he shoots the child in head, and spits on his body; Effie starts sweating profusely at the sound of the gunshot, breathing heavily, tears welling in her eyes

What about you. Says the Officer, coldly, glaring at the boy

Dennis Brown… ethicism. Says the boy, scoffing, looking at the ground, smugly embittered; the general shoots the child in the head Disgusting. He says, hocking up more spit and spitting on the child

Just shoot me. Says the next boy, swaggering in dissociation

You tell me your name, you tell me why I should shoot you. The last thing going through your mind needs to be your name, and why you are worthy of nothing more than death. Says the Officer

Fuck you. Says the boy

And a warm ‘fuck you’ to you as well. Now that we’ve gotten the cordial pleasantries out of the way, let’s get down to business. Says the Officer, annoyed

Max Simmons, atheism. Says the boy, haughtily, staring the officer in the eyes boldly with a cocksure grin, the officer points the gun at the skull of the child, staring him in the eyes coldly

Burn in hell. Says the officer, damningly, as he shoots the child in the skull, the blood pooling on the ground, the officer’s boots start to splash as he walks to the next child

I’ve never gone four for four, but go ahead, nigger, make my day. Says the Officer

Amos Smith, wheelchair. Says Amos, staring at the ground, embittered

That’s it? No mental disorder? asks the officer

Niggerhood. Says Amos

Well Nigger, I’m not blind. Gary, this nigger shitting me? Nothing else wrong with him. says the officer

No, that’s it. Says Gary

I’ll be damned, big meaty nigger too. I take it you know how to shoot guns and beat the shit out of people, so you’re going to be a cop, nigger. Says the officer

For real? asks Amos, surprised, miraculously relieved

Real talk, nigger. I expect great things from you. Says the officer

God damn. Says Amos, heart pounding

Gary, what about this one, this retarded one? asks the officer

Fuck. Whispers Amos, fear stricken once again

That’s it. Says Gary

Boy, you can talk? asks the officer

Yes. Says the boy

What’s your name? asks the officer

Horse. Says the boy

Horse of a man, I’ll be damned. What’s wrong with you? Asks the officer

Downs. Whispers Amos, commandingly

Downs. Says the boy

God damn, I can see that. This was just a formality. You want to be a cop? Kids always want to be cops, and I figure you got the mind of a child. Dream come true, right? asks the officer, the boy looks at the officer blankly

Say yes. Whispers Amos

Yes. Says the boy, firmly

Hot damn. You’re a cop now. Says the officer

I know it should be ladies first, but I’m just hoping we’ve saved the best for last. So what is your name, little girl. Says the Officer to the girl in the black dress, holding her top hat at her belly

Mary Bennet. Says the girl, frightened, crying softly, sniffling

Well, I would tell you not to cry, but you’ve got to say what’s wrong with you first. Says the officer, a bit embittered by the thought

M-m-mor-mormonism. Says the girl

Mormonism? Well, that’s not so bad, I hope not anyways. Says the officer, rather comforting

Ok. Says the girl weakly

Gary, how bad does she have it? asks the officer

Well, she does that thing with the hat. That’s it so far as I can tell. Says Gary

That’s not that bad, it will be ok. You have a little hat? That’s ok. There’s no reading or anything I hope, that would be very bad you know. There’s benign Mormonism and then there’s terminal Mormonism, and I hope you know that. Says the officer

No, I can’t read. Nobody in my family can read. I don’t know. Please don’t shoot me. Says Mary

That’s ok. I’m not going to shoot you. You pass, you will be ok. That’s all that matters. Says the Officer, still trying to comfort the girl

Really? asks the girl

100 percent. I don’t know how good you are with your hat, but that doesn’t matter, you can try your best, and even if your only right sometimes, at least you tried your best. You’re going to be a police officer, does that sound fun? asks the Officer

Yes, please, anything. Says Mary

Let’s hope your hat can help you solve some crimes, and you will be a great police officer one day. Says the officer

Thank you, thank you, thank you Jesus. Says the girl, still crying

There, there, everything it ok now. What about you little girl? asks the man

Ada Gray, blindness. Says the girl, staring blankly

Well, that’s not it, it can’t be. You would just be at a blind school. Says the officer

Necromancy. Says the girl

Well what the fuck is that? I’ve never heard of that. Says the officer

I can talk to ghosts. Says the girl

Bullshit, is that real? Gary, what is this shit? asks the