#but i am going to report them for these remarks either tomorrow or monday

[emerald-oceans]

I’m still seething about my coworkers. They know that two of our coworkers go by they/them and they’ve flat out said they’re going to use she/her. That you’re either a boy or a girl, or you’re crazy, and that they aren’t going to play into someone’s “fantasy”.

Well here’s the reality: you all are a bunch of bigoted, backwards ass cunts. You’re actively choosing to dig your heels in the ground and throw a tantrum like a toddler instead of using pronouns you use on a daily fucking basis. Because god forbid you be a decent person for one second of your life, instead of the miserable sack of shit you really are. No wonder you’re pissed all the time. Being such an asshole, you’re naturally full of bullshit.

[sunlit-squid]

How about “Holy crap, I thought you were dead! Never do that to me again!” for the prompt?

For those who don’t know, my ask box is open. Send me a simping softness prompt, and I’ll write a short sbsp ficlet for you. ✰

i’m back on my bullshit. if you wanna read this ficlet on ao3, the link is here. otherwise, ficlet under the cut!

also tagging @wowthwtslame, who requested the same prompt a while ago. thank you!

In the dead of night, while everyone was asleep, winter descended on Bikini Bottom.

By the time Squidward woke up and peered out the window, Conch Street was completely covered in glittering white snow. In fact, the wintry landscape stretched so far, there was hardly a speckle of sand left -- just deep, undisturbed snow for miles on end.

Squidward vaguely remembered falling asleep to the late night news, in the middle of a special weather report. What was it Perch Perkins said? “6 to 7 inches of snow overnight?” Fishpaste. That was going to be a lot of snow to clear up before work Monday morning.

But for now … it was Sunday. And Sunday meant no Krusty Krab, no rowdy customers, and -- perhaps best of all -- no Spongebob. Squidward sighed dreamily. Yes. Today, he would stay in, and tomorrow, he would worry about the snow.

-0-

The setup was perfect: soothing herbal tea, a box full of bonbons, and a romantic drama on the television. Squidward had donned his softest, silkiest robe for the occasion, and was just settling onto the couch -- when there was a loud, forceful knock at the door. The octopus groaned. There was only one person who would be willing to come over in this weather…

Sure enough, a few moments later, Spongebob’s high-pitched voice echoed all throughout the once-serene moai: “Heeeeey, Squidwaaaard!” The loud, forceful knocking began anew, drowning out Squidward’s TV entirely.

Annoyed, the octopus pressed pause on his romantic drama, and trudged angrily over to the door. Flinging it open with all the force he could muster, Squidward readied himself for a scream -- but was instead startled by the faces on his doorstep.

Spongebob was there, of course -- but he was accompanied by Patrick and Sandy, too. All three of them were dressed in wintry ski gear, looking bright and chipper as ever. Spongebob, however, looked oddly flushed, a soft shade of red dusting his yellow cheeks. Perhaps he was cold.

“Howdy, Squidward!” greeted Sandy, waving her gloved hand enthusiastically. “We were just about to head to Sand Mountain for some skiin’, and thought ya might want to tag along.”

“Yeah, come with us, Squidward!” Patrick chimed in. “Spongebob reeeaaaaally wants you to -- oof!”

There was some indiscernible movement behind Spongebob, which made Patrick double over in pain. Sandy, however, continued to smile, a bit forcefully now. Pushing Spongebob forward, the squirrel continued, “Anyway, whaddaya say, Squidward?”

Squidward blinked. This was weird. For one, the trio at his doorstep seemed oddly tense. And for two, Squidward was not a good skier. Or a skier at all, really. The last time he skied at Sand Mountain, nearly a year ago, had been an accident -- Spongebob lost control of his skis, and barreled directly into Squidward (who, mind you, wasn’t even skiing, just spectating). The force of the collision carried both of them across the mountain, and into the icy waters beyond.

After that incident, they both got a nasty cold, which lasted for nearly two weeks. During that time, Spongebob insisted on coming over frequently, just to hang out. I’m so sick, I can’t hang out with anyone else! the sponge explained. But you’re sick too, Squidward, so let’s get better together, okay?

It was the worst two weeks of Squidward’s life -- never mind that Spongebob cooked good meals and watched the same shows and looked really cute in his sleep…

Wait. No. No.

“No,” snapped Squidward, moving to close his door. “Absolutely not.”

Before the door could close completely, however, Spongebob stepped forward, wedging himself in the doorway. “But Squiiidward,” the sponge whined, pouting beautifully. His brilliant blue eyes shimmered in the mid-morning sun. “I wanna hang out with you today!”

The octopus froze, heat rising to his cheeks. With a deep breath, Squidward yelled, “I am not going, and that is final!” before slamming the door in their faces.

-0-

Somehow, some way -- Squidward wound up in the backseat of Sandy’s newly-invented wintermobile, trudging through the snow-packed streets of Bikini Bottom. Spongebob was seated right next to him, singing along to a cheery Christmas song on the radio. Patrick, in the passenger seat, was singing too, but it was clear he didn’t know the words at all.

The octopus scowled. How did this happen?

It was Spongebob’s fault, no doubt. One moment, Squidward was lounging on the couch -- and the next, he was rummaging around the closet, searching for his winter gear. Something about Spongebob’s words -- I wanna hang out with you today! -- made the octopus feel stupid, loopy, and warm.

Squidward was no stranger to loneliness. It was his oldest friend, his most constant companion, and the octopus was … okay with that. Content, even. But Spongebob Squarepants, with his stupid smile and pretty blue eyes and cute face, just had to go and ruin it, every time. Squidward, you wanna watch a movie? Squidward, you wanna go to the park? Squidward, you wanna try out this new cookie recipe? And despite Squidward’s better judgment … whether due to loneliness, or boredom, or what have you … he would say yes, every time.

This was one of those times.

“Hey, hey,” Spongebob whispered, interrupting Squidward’s thoughts. “I’m glad you changed your mind. I always have more fun with you around, Squidward.”

Squidward blushed furiously, folding his arms across his chest. “Don’t read into it. I just thought it would be good to get out of the house.”

“Oh, it will be! And I practiced some cool tricks,” said the sponge, waving his arms around erratically. “I wanna show them to you, okay?”

Squidward smirked. “If you get hurt, I’ll just point and laugh.”

Spongebob stuck out his bottom lip, in an adorable pout. “I won’t get hurt. I’m an expert!”

“Uh-huh,” said Squidward dryly. “I bet you are.”

Spongebob ignored that snarky remark, and instead moved on to talk about the different tricks he had learned. All the while, Squidward’s gaze lingered on the poriferan’s face: the way it lit up, the way it radiated warmth. On occasion, the octopus would glance up to find Patrick and Sandy eyeing them through the rearview mirror. Whenever they were caught, however, the starfish and the squirrel would immediately look away, whistling awkwardly.

What was up with them?

-0-

When they finally got to Sand Mountain, it was apparent they weren’t the only ones who thought of skiing that day. A decent crowd of Bikini Bottomites had gathered at the mountain, either skiing or talking or drinking hot cocoa from a nearby stand. Some children had even gathered at the base of the mountain, caught up in an intense snowball fight. In all, there was a joyous vibe in the air, the unique, special sort that only comes with very heavy snowfall.

Hurriedly, the four of them piled out of Sandy’s wintermobile, and headed for the slopes. After getting their gear and equipment all squared away, Patrick and Sandy turned to Spongebob and Squidward, with strained, too-wide smiles.

“Well, uh -- Patrick and I are gonna test out the new challenge course on the other side o’ the mountain,” said Sandy, nervously readjusting her ski goggles, which for some reason were strapped around her helmet. “So, uh -- we’ll meet up with y’all in a bit, alright?”

Squidward blinked in confusion. “Why can’t we just go with you -- ?”

“Uh, bye, Spongeward! I mean, Squidbob! I mean … uh …,” sputtered Patrick, as Sandy hurriedly dragged him away -- in the wrong direction, Squidward noted.

“What’s up with them?” asked the octopus, vaguely gesturing to Sandy and Patrick, who were slowly disappearing from sight.

Spongebob laughed, a little too loudly. “Oh, don’t worry about them -- it’s -- uh. They’re, uh. Dating,” stammered the sponge, awkwardly. “They’re just, like, super shy about it.”

Squidward did not believe that for one single second. “Spongebob, what is going on?”

Before Spongebob could reply, the poriferan was swept up by two strong, muscly red arms, tossing him in the air and catching him again. “Spongebob Squarepants!” exclaimed Larry, towering over Squidward in that intimidating way of his. “Buddy, you ready to hit those slopes?”

Spongebob giggled as he was tossed in the air. “I sure am!”

When Larry finally caught sight of Squidward standing there, the lobster laughed loudly. “Oh, Squidward’s here! Good!” said Larry, with a huge grin on his face. “You know, Spongebob has some real cool tricks up his sleeve. He’s been practicing a lot just to impress --”

“AAAH!” yelled Spongebob, for seemingly no reason, startling both Squidward and Larry. After a few seconds, the poriferan laughed nervously, and sputtered, “Oh, uh, sorry, just -- getting all my screams out now, while I can. What were you saying, Larry?”

Larry blinked in confusion. “Well, I was saying, that you’ve been practicing real hard to impress --”

“AAAAH!” screamed Spongebob, louder this time.

“To impress --”

“AAAAAAAAH!” yelled the sponge, once more. This time, the scream was so loud, a pile of snow came rolling off the peak of Sand Mountain, and onto some Bikini Bottomites down below. In the distance, someone screamed something about a leg.

Larry stopped talking. Sighing, he put Spongebob down and said, “Look, why don’t we just … head to the slope, alright?”

Spongebob nodded, seemingly all out of screams. “Okie-doke!”

Quietly, the lobster and the sponge began making their way over to Mariana Course, notably the hardest slope at Sand Mountain. Squidward followed close behind them, thoroughly baffled. Sure, Spongebob was hyperactive, energetic, and borderline insane, but this … this was something entirely different. Spongebob seemed nervous, to the point of genuine distress, and Squidward for the life of him couldn’t figure out why.

Impulsively, the octopus reached out to pull Spongebob back, so they were both walking a few paces behind Larry. “You know, you don’t have to do this course if you’re nervous about it,” the octopus mumbled, keeping his voice low so the lobster wouldn’t overhear. “I mean, it’s not like I care or anything, in fact it would be funny if you, uh, got hurt or whatever, but … the Mariana Course is kind of … questionable, you know?”

By ‘questionable’, Squidward meant damn near fatal. The Mariana Course wasn’t even an official part of Sand Mountain, until the Drasticals broke it in by force. Its rocky, hazardous terrain practically financed the new wing of the Bikini Bottom General Hospital.

Spongebob, however, seemed determined. “Trust me, Squidward, I’ve got it all under control!” he chirped. Then, with a small, cute chuckle, the sponge asked, “Why? Are you worried about me?”

Squidward felt hot, all of a sudden. The octopus stormed ahead, warmth clinging to his cheeks. “Let’s just get this over with!”

Behind him, Spongebob giggled. “Whatever you say, Squiddy.”

-0-

Squidward had to admit, Spongebob had definitely been practicing. From his spot on the observer’s loft, the octopus could see everything on the Mariana Course: from the brambling bushes to the sharp, jagged rocks, to the slippery snow drifts down below. One by one, Spongebob maneuvered through them all, with grace, aplomb -- even a touch of arrogance.

Spongebob’s tricks were plentiful, and occasionally scary: at one point, the sponge was suspended high in the air, doing crazy flips and turns, all while his skis raced ahead of him. Squidward was worried, for a moment, that the skis would outpace Spongebob -- but somehow, the poriferan managed to land perfectly, right atop both of them, once again.

Squidward found himself sighing, dreamily. Sure, Spongebob was annoying ninety percent of the time, but the boy was also weirdly athletic … which had a certain, insufferable charm to it.

“Hey, Squidward,” came Larry’s voice. Squidward jumped slightly -- he’d honestly forgotten the lobster was still around. When Squidward turned, Larry was approaching with two mugs of hot cocoa in both claws. Gently, he handed one to Squidward, who accepted it gratefully. “Drink while it’s hot.”

“Thanks,” said Squidward. The warmth of the mug felt lovely, especially in the bitter cold.

Larry and Squidward sat in silence, watching Spongebob traverse the Mariana Course, for a while -- sipping their cocoa and occasionally gasping at the sponge’s antics. The cocoa was delicious, the perfect soothing drink for a day on the slopes. After a lengthy, peaceful silence, Larry finally spoke up.

“Spongebob really likes you, you know,” said the lobster, finishing the last of his cocoa.

Squidward froze -- and it had nothing to do with the cold temperatures. Wrapping his tentacles around the mug, Squidward sifted around his brain for a good reply. Coming up empty, the octopus simply said, “Yeah. He’s made that pretty clear.”

Larry shifted, leaning on the railing in front of them. “You know, he … asked me to teach him some of those tricks. To cheer you up.”

Squidward turned now, eyes fixed on Larry. “What?” he said, stupidly.

The lobster shrugged. “I don’t really know the details,” Larry sighed. “All I know is, Spongebob thought you seemed sadder lately. And he wanted to try and make you feel better.”

Squidward felt both hot and cold, all of a sudden. In truth … he had fallen into a bit of a depression lately. Over the course of one month, Squidward’s creative pursuits hit a new, staggering low: another one of his scripts had been rejected by the Bikini Bottom Art Society; he was laughed out of the auditions for the Bikini Bottom Philharmonic; and, to top it all off, Squilliam had just premiered a groundbreaking musical in New Kelp City.

Already, the reviews were in: once more, Squilliam was rocking the oceanic world … and Squidward was still just a cashier.

Squidward thought that because he was usually depressed anyway, no one would notice if he was … slightly-more-depressed than usual. But apparently, someone had. And apparently …

“Dear Neptune!” Larry’s sudden, loud voice rocketed Squidward out of his thoughts.

“What? What’s going on?” asked Squidward, looking around frantically -- until he saw it. A tiny yellow body, near the edge of the Mariana Course, lying still, so perfectly still.

-0-

Quickly, Larry and Squidward stole a snowmobile from the mountain staff, and hurriedly rushed towards Spongebob’s tiny, unmoving body. On the way, the lobster explained what happened: Spongebob had been in the middle of one of his stunts. Everything was going perfectly fine, until he had to land on his skis again. The back of Spongebob’s coat got stuck on a kelp branch, which flung him to the edge of the Mariana Course. He landed on sharp, jagged rocks, and from then on, did not move.

Squidward felt a pit opening up inside his stomach. Dear, blessed Neptune and Poseidon. Let him be okay.

When they finally reached the cluster of sharp, jagged rocks, Squidward could hardly believe his eyes. Lying perfectly still, eyes closed, barely breathing, was Spongebob Squarepants, a massive, sharp rock jutted straight through his chest. Behind him, Larry threw up in the woods.

After he recovered, Larry sputtered out, “We should -- we should try to move him … I don’t know a lot about sponge anatomy, but if he stays like that, he’ll regenerate around it … and that’ll make things complicated for the docs … ”

Squidward was already moving. The octopus used his tentacles to carefully maneuver his way around the sharp crevices. When he finally reached Spongebob, the cephalopod shivered with fright. It was bad. The sharp rock wasn’t very long, but it was long enough to look horrific, especially embedded inside of Spongebob’s tiny body.

“Sponge … Spongebob?” croaked Squidward, a flood of anxiety washing over him.

There was no response -- only silence, terrible silence, where Spongebob’s sharp, jittering laugh should be. Squidward felt cold. He did this for me. To make me happy. Me.

“Damn it,” muttered Squidward. Before he knew it, he was crying, large globs of tears streaming down his face. “Why? Why are you like this? Just to make me happy … are you an idiot?”

Suddenly, there was a claw on Squidward’s shoulder. Looking up, he saw that Larry was there, quiet yet firm. Carefully, the lobster latched onto Spongebob, and gently pulled the boy off of the jagged edge. Squidward’s eyes were locked on the rock where Spongebob once was for a moment too long. Then, he carefully made his way out of the jagged rock pile.

Larry had laid Spongebob down in the snow, just beyond the pit of rocks. The gaping hole left in the sponge’s body was terrifying to look at, so open and hollow and wide.

“Medics are coming,” said Larry, with a cough. “But since it’s a sponge, they might take longer … you know, because they --”

“Regenerate,” finished Squidward, kneeling down next to Spongebob’s cold, still form. “He’s not regenerating right now … is that bad?”

“Give it a moment,” breathed Larry, going to grab a blanket from off of the snowmobile. “Kid fell hard. It might be a while.”

Larry returned, blanket in tow, and wrapped it all over Spongebob’s body. Then, he stood, and they all made their way back to the nearby lodge, quiet as can be.

-0-

When they got back to the warmth of the lodge, they laid Spongebob down on a couch in the lobby. Larry draped the blanket over Spongebob once again, to try and hide his wounds as he recovered. Now, only the top of him was visible, his yellow nose just barely peeking out.

This way, Squidward could almost trick himself into thinking the sponge was asleep. With that soft, cute smile, those fluttering eyelashes … yes. Spongebob was just sleeping, and soon, he would wake up, and laugh, and all would be right with the world.

As time passed, several Bikini Bottomites came through, to ask what happened. Larry explained carefully, since Squidward could hardly bring himself to speak. At some point, Patrick and Sandy showed up too, looking equally devastated, Sandy muttering something about I knew this idea was plumb awful, why didn’t I trust my gut …

All the while, Squidward held Spongebob’s squeaky little hand, and did not let go for a second -- even when the medics finally arrived. By then, things looked good: Spongebob was regenerating normally. But he still hadn’t woken up yet.

When the medics left, Squidward almost fell asleep holding onto Spongebob’s hand. That’s when Sandy showed up, right beside him.

“Hey,” she said. Her tone was friendly, but her concern was clear.

“Hey,” said Squidward, giving Spongebob’s hand a gentle squeeze.

Sandy hesitated for a while. Then, with blunt simplicity, she said, “I think he could make ya happy, Squidward. If ya let him.”

A funny feeling settled in the pit of Squidward’s stomach. Looking down at Spongebob’s resting, peaceful face, the octopus replied, “But what if I hurt him?”

The squirrel shrugged. “If you’re already worried about it, I’d say that ain’t gonna happen.”

Squidward found himself smiling, despite himself. “Thanks, Sandy.”

She shook her head, laughing to herself. “Don’t mention it,” she said. “Just tired o’ watching y’all play hard to get, is all.”

-0-

At some point, Larry, Patrick, and Sandy went to grab food, in case Spongebob woke up and needed sustenance … leaving Squidward to man the helm. Come nightfall, the sponge finally stirred.

Immediately, Squidward sat up -- just as Spongebob sat up, too, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand. Then, he laughed -- thank Neptune for that laugh -- and turned to face Squidward, enthusiastically.

“Did you see that cool trick I did --” the sponge began, but was interrupted by Squidward, enveloping him in a huge, crushing hug.

“Holy crap, I thought you were dead! Never do that to me again!” cried the octopus, shaking and shuddering with tears. “You absolute idiot.”

Spongebob, caught off guard, simply held Squidward closer. “You know I regenerate,” said the sponge, slightly muffled by Squidward’s shoulder.

“You were impaled, Spongebob --”

“I was? That’s crazy --”

“Spongebob,” said Squidward, firmly, pulling away from the embrace. Awkwardly, the octopus looked down, sighing heavily. “Look, you … you don’t have to go to extreme lengths just to make me happy.”

Spongebob blinked, then blushed. “Who told you --”

“It doesn’t matter,” interrupted Squidward, whose face had erupted in bright splotches of red. “Just -- just be around me, alright? That’s all you gotta do, is be around me, and suddenly I’m all … stupid, and happy or whatever. Whatever! Alright? You don’t have to do … all of this.” Squidward gestured vaguely to the lodge, and the ski courses beyond.

It was Spongebob’s turn to be red in the face. “That’s … it? That’s all I have to do?”

Squidward sighed, and before he knew what he was doing, pressed a soft, chaste kiss atop Spongebob’s head. “That’s all you’ve ever had to do.”

“Aww,” came a loud voice from directly behind them. When they turned, they found Patrick, Larry, and Sandy in the doorway, holding a bunch of bags from the Barg’N Mart. Patrick was clapping, and in the process dropped the majority of his grocery bags. “Great job, buddy! Mission accomplished!” shouted the seastar, proudly.

Squidward dropped his head into his tentacles. “I hate all of you,” he muttered, despite the small smile curling across his lips.

[notgonnarememberthis]

today (of all days) - pt 5

Surprise!!! Through encouragement of friends I’ve decided to release one chapter a day to finish this story off the day before prodigal son returns! So the next one will be the plus one coming out tomorrow and a bonus chapter coming Monday. Hope y’all like this one! 

The knock is soft and hesitant, Gil almost misses it while he’s combing over files. He checks the time with a huff, he should probably get dinner soon anyways. Maybe he’ll roll by Malcolm’s and make sure he’s eating, knowing all too well that he’s throwing himself into this case just as hard, if not more, than he is.

He stretches himself out before walking to the door, mindful of Icarus who has half the mind to trot beside him to try to dart out the door if he opens it too wide. He opens it slowly, foot placed in front of the ginger cat to keep it back.

Jessica stands in front of the door, a bag in one hand and a drink tray balanced on the other. She sucks in a breath and he can see her carefully planned speech falling apart. This was the first time he’s seen her since that day in the station, when she admitted she was talking to Martin again. When he offered to be her ear again. She swallows heavily only able to get out, “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” He nods. “Of course.” He steps aside letting her slip by with ease. She smiles down at Icarus who takes the opportunity to rub along her legs. He knows if she hadn’t had her hands full, she’d be scratching his head right now. “Is that?”

“Mel’s diner, yes it is. I got the cherry pie too.”

“How’d you know, I was just about to make dinner.”

“You and Malcolm have remarkably similar eating habits. Meaning it’ll be the last thing on either of your agendas until either a case is finished or someone snaps you out of it.” She settles everything on the table, pulling the food out of the bag with an almost robotic motion. He recognizes it, her mind and body has flipped into pure survival mode. She’s able to mask it when talking but her body language gives it away.

He sits on the couch next to her, eyes trained on her face the entire time. “Jess?”

She tenses, her eyes closing as she’s found out so quickly. Her posture deflates and she drops her head into her hand. “Please.” Her voice comes out more tired.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong.” She tries to hold him at arm's length, instead focused on her food but he takes her hand in his. She may not have come with the vintage bourbon like usual but he can see through it all. Mel’s is her comfort food. After a rough day, they’d bring Malcolm and Ainsley there, enjoy the atmosphere of anonymity. The noise of the customers was always enough to drown out her own demons. He’s more than able to see through it all. 

“Talk to me.” He says, his voice soft as he runs his thumb along the back of her hand.

She sighs, tipping her head back. Her jaw clenches, emotions bubbling to the surface that she forces back down again. “I’m writing a memoir.” She doesn’t look back at him, she knows what his reaction will be, or she thinks she does.

“A memoir?” His eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. “You said you’d never give in. That they could say whatever they wanted but they wouldn’t get a word from you. What changed?” She sighs, in the way she did any time they were brought up. “Birdie.” He nods in understanding.

“She’s been cut off. She’s emptied all her assets and she came to me… to publish her own book.”

“Why not just pay her off?” She’d done it before. Paid reporters, journalists, and other nosey bastards for her family’s privacy. She paid good money so that it was never leaked that Malcolm had changed his name. As far as the public knew Malcolm Whitly had faded into obscurity. 

“They were going to publish with or without her. Another author would take helm. We’d be exposed. I checked the information and it’s true. The publishing company is desperate. They’d already been looking for a writer who would take the chance for years.” No doubt, any writer who stepped up that would risk Jessica Whitly’s wrath would be one without good intentions. The book would be a slander on her family. No amount of burying the story would protect her, Malcolm, or Ainsley from that blowback. And Martin would revel in that chaos.

“So you’re taking the reins.”

“I don’t have a choice.” He wants to argue with her. That there’s always another choice but here, he finds it difficult. With Jessica writing it she’s telling her story, It’s not going to be tampered with by a second party. When it hits the shelf she’ll only do interviews with people Ainsley trusts, no Barbara Walters situation ever again. No second hand writers will hound Malcolm or Ainsley for their comments, knocking down boundaries that her kids aren’t even aware exist most of the time. It’s not about them. It’s about controlling the narrative.

The words feel awfully familiar. “Do Malcolm or Ainsley know?” She doesn’t even need to answer by the look that passes over her face, fond exasperation with some worry. 

“No, and I intend on keeping it that way for a while.”

“Jess.”

“Ainsley will just talk about how this is a good thing. She’s always excited about stories. Having them read mine is,” She lets out a bitter laugh. There were aspects of the aftermath that she kept from them. How it tore her apart more than she would ever admit. It was only recently that Ainsley got a peek past the incredible intricate persona Jessica put on for others. “Then Malcolm, he won’t like it at all. He’ll worry. He has enough on his plate right now. I’m not going to pull either of them into this if I can help it.”

“They will find out eventually.”

“I’ll keep it a secret as long as I can. I would appreciate it if you would too.”

“I won’t tell. But I think you should.”

“Not,” She shakes her head and he can see she’s trying to blink away tears. “Not yet.”

“There’s something else, isn’t there.”

Jessica laughs but nods, “The publisher pitched a name today. He wants to call it The One Who Survived. Bullshit, if you ask me.”

“Jess,” He moves to place a hand on her shoulder but she stands, anger flaring up with the movement.

“Why does it always go back to him?” She asks, he’s not sure if she’s looking for an answer but she continues before he can make a sound. “I raised two children. Both of which were stellar students. My son went to Harvard, worked with the FBI. My daughter is a critically acclaimed journalist and a newscaster.” She rakes both hands through her hair pacing across the living room. Atlas watches from a perch, his tail flicking with interest. “I have contributed to hundreds of foundations, I am a businesswoman. Why, why am I only the ex-wife?”

Gil steps up, his hands settling on her shoulders. She stops her rant, eyes falling on him in the same shocked and vulnerable gaze when he holds her. They haven’t been this close since… He pushes that to the back of his mind. “This is your memoir Jess. Not theirs. You’ve got the control here. Use it.”

“But-”

“But what? They’ve been asking for 20 years and you’re finally giving them what they asked for. It’s your story.”

“Where do I even start?” 

“Wherever feels right.” She lets out a slow breath and for a moment they stay like that. Standing in the remains of a connection that never dies. Her movement is slow, when she finally does, making sure that he stops her if he wants to. Her arms wrap around his torso and she tucks her head into his chest. He returns the hug, holding her close with his chin resting on top of her head.

“Thank you Gil.” She mumbles into his shirt. He runs a hand down her back in a comforting gesture. Having her this close makes his heart race and he’s certain she can hear it too. They’ve missed out on so much time. But for now he’s just happy to have her back again.

“Always.” He whispers, dropping a kiss to the top of her head.

[icantbraintoday-tryagainlater]

You are Expendable

You are a hard working individual Pride yourself on your work You show up early and stay late You never miss a meeting or an email “We are lucky to have you, You are such a great asset to the team. With everything you do, to show our gratitude We will fire you without question.” You work hard every day Put your heart and soul into the job You encourage your coworkers, teammates Take that overtime and bust your ass You don’t sleep, you think of what You can do better tomorrow Yet you are expendable. Your job does not need you You will be replaced by the end of the day. Your job does not value you, You are a commodity that can be replaced. Your skill is teachable, Your knowledge is common. The truth is you are expendable And they’ll replace you for their financial gain.

~*~*~*~*~*~

I should have known from the 1st day of training my job as a claim associate for a Big Name National Insurance Company that I would regret my decision to apply.

I should have known when within two days of training I was pulled to the side and written up. For my neighbor talking to me.

I should have known.

So this is all on me, I know, but I thought that this company would treat me right and it was only these two bitter old employees who were about to retire.

I was wrong. I was so wrong.

the first year was amazing! I met new friends, I was great at my job, I had the best manager in the world! I was surprised that I could like working in Insurance. I was being talked to about advancement, different areas of the company I would excel at, and the right path to follow to achieve my goals.

Then She came along. Covid hit, we were all sent home, and a brand new manager took over my team. I didn’t think much of it, because honestly? She seemed fine. She was new to managing, but not new to the job. My biggest critique then had just been how much time she seemed to take off. She was NEVER there. Every other day she was taking a partial day. She took long weekends, took weeks off at a time. It was weird to say the least. 

But then the snippy emails came. The bitchy remarks.

My team suffered GREATLY. We went from being one of the top performing teams to suddenly being at the bottom. And all of these Outliers Reports that we had never heard of started becoming this huge deal.

Literally never heard of these reports, and then one week we were all on them. And it was a BIG DEAL (TM). Then we were getting in trouble for being in the wrong call states (the call states we have been told to be in for specific situations since we were trained were suddenly the wrong call states).

All of this I was willing to just deal with. But then...

Then my mom got sick. I got a call from my father at around 1 or 2PM Thursday, November 19, 2020. My mom was going to the ER because they thought she was having a stroke. I told my boss I couldn’t be at work and left for the day. Found out that it was a tumor, possibly cancer. Within 2 weeks she was in surgery to remove the mass and we found out it was Glioblastoma. The worst brain cancer.

And my friends and family kept asking “Is your work understanding? Being accommodating?” And I couldn’t say they were. They were the complete opposite of understanding.

I fought for a while to make them understand and to just ask for simple accommodations only to be met with “If you can’t do your job then go home.”

Below is a letter I wrote to HR.

“To whom it may concern,

My name is ______, and I work as a claims representative in the Auto Property Claims, Express. I am writing to you today to bring up some issues I have recently run into with the way Express is run, and I would like to discuss these with you and hopefully find a solution so if someone else is ever in my position, they are treated better.

Specifically, I would like to discuss how I was treated when I found out my mother was diagnosed with brain cancer.

I received a call on my first break on Thursday, November 19th, from my father. He told me that my mother was on her way to the ER. I immediately IM’d my manager, *blacked out*, and requested to leave, as my father cannot take care of my mother alone since he is blind. She simply said that she logged me out, and I did not think anything of her short reply.

I came back to work on Monday, November 23rd, because I had no more PTO, despite still waiting for my mother’s MRIs to come back with the official diagnosis. She was diagnosed with a cancerous tumor on her brain.  I could not afford to take time off (and also welcomed a distraction), but knew I would not be much help on phones, so I asked for tasks and waited 40 minutes for a response.  However, She simply stated that it wasn't possible for me to do other tasks - that either I could answer calls and talk to customers while in crisis and crying or miss work and not get paid.

I understand there are rules and managers cannot change our schedules on a whim; however, it felt crass that she would not even discuss an alternative. In the past I know that myself and others have been given courtesy during extreme circumstances, so I had spoken with another team manager about it, and he told me he would speak with Jessica for me.

Right before close, however, I received a very snippy IM from Her stating the following: “Just so you know, I had spoken with my boss, *blocked*, about this. And she said we couldn’t do that. And you were logged out for 40 minutes earlier today so I took the liberty of changing your T2 for that as an Unscheduled PTO.”

Those 40 minutes were while I was waiting for her response and trying to get myself together after learning horribly devastating news. I also felt very attacked and that if I were to do anything that she did not like from now on that she would retaliate against me. I still feel as though she will retaliate against me just because I went to another manager with an issue that she did not appear to care about at all. 

She has also consistently been lacking in manager experience, as well. The most prominent example of this is that she will not (or possibly does not know how to) help with personal development, either within the company nor in my current job position. When she brings up any areas where I could do better, she simply tells me “do better,” and when I ask for advice on how to go about doing so because I feel as though I am doing all I can she simply tells me again “do better." I can provide examples if you would like.

I attempted to speak about this with HR, but they simply asked why I was upset that my manager was asking me to do my job. I felt isolated afterwards, and felt as though Big National Insurance Company in general does not care about their employees in the least. Our motto is Remarkable. But my experience during this tragic time of learning that my mother might not just have brain cancer, but may never regain control or strength of her left side (her dominant side) ever again, coupled with the fact that my father only went blind 3 years ago so I now have 2 disabled parents whom I may need to start taking care of on a regular basis, has been anything but remarkable

I was told to get CIGNA to look into ADA accommodations. However, I needed the accommodation immediately, and CIGNA can take weeks, if not months, to get established. In that moment I needed to know that I could do my job while also helping my family through this horribly difficult time, and I was told to jump through hoops like a circus animal and maybe I would still have a job after, but probably would not be paid for the time off. I could apply for the Employee Grant, but that’s not a guarantee, and I have to apply for it after I’ve already lost the pay. As I’m living paycheck to paycheck right now, that would mean I would probably be facing eviction by the time I would receive any assistance. 

Accommodations were simply thrown out the window and when my friends ask how I’m doing and if my job is being understanding, I cannot say that they are. Between the points system, which punishes you for being ill or having to care for family, and my boss’s cold, indifferent, and unsympathetic attitude towards me, I feel as though I am literally just a number, an expendable employee who is simply there to be a robot. 

As I stated at the beginning of this email, I would love the chance to discuss this with you to find a solution. So if anyone else is ever put in this position, they are treated with dignity, respect, and sympathy, rather than cold, unfeeling retaliation and robotic responses. So future employees do not have to jump through hoops in order to have simple and understandable accommodations made as they work on getting the rest lined up.

You can reach me at this email, my personal email *blocked*, or through text or calls at my cell number *blocked*. 

Thank you for your time and I hope to hear from you soon.

Sincerely,

*my name*

We had a lovely conversation with my boss, her boss, and a new HR rep. But did anything change? No. If anything, I started getting micromanaged even more.

There is so much more to the story than this, but I - I just don’t have the time or energy to type it up.

Maybe I will another day.

But in conclusion - I should have known. Shame on me for allowing myself to be fooled.

[phroyd]

By

Sean Sullivan, Seung Min Kim and John Wagner    September 22 at 12:33 AM

President Trump cast doubt Friday on the credibility of the woman who has accused Brett M. Kavanaugh of sexually assaulting her when they were teenagers, escalating tensions over the Supreme Court nomination, as Senate negotiations over whether she will tell her story at a public hearing slipped into the weekend.

By attacking California professor Christine Blasey Ford, Trump abandoned the self-restraint he had showed for days and pushed Kavanaugh’s nomination deeper into turmoil. Democrats, key Republican senators and advocates for victims of sexual assault swiftly rebuked the president.

Meanwhile, Senate Judiciary Committee Chairman Charles E. Grassley (R-Iowa) gave Ford one more day to respond to his offer for her and Kavanaugh to testify before his panel on Wednesday, capping an extraordinary late-night back-and-forth.

“Judge Kavanaugh I just granted another extension to Dr Ford to decide if she wants to proceed w the statement she made last week to testify to the senate,” Grassley tweeted. An aide confirmed that he was granting her request for more time.

Before that tweet, Debra Katz, an attorney for Ford, said committee Republicans’ arbitrary deadlines and ultimatums had created stress and anxiety for her client, who met with the FBI on Friday about the death threats she had received.

“Your cavalier treatment of a sexual assault survivor who has been doing her best to cooperate with the Committee is completely inappropriate,” Katz wrote in an email to Grassley aides.

Earlier in the day, Grassley had warned that he would move ahead with plans for his committee to vote on Kavanaugh’s nomination on Monday if his offer of a Wednesday hearing was rejected or ignored.

The developments added new turbulence to a nomination that Republicans have sought to steady in their public comments. “In the very near future, Judge Kavanaugh will be on the United States Supreme Court,” Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-Ky.) told conservative activists Friday.

Plenty of uncertainty loomed over the nominee, who could shift the court further right for a generation — and whether Trump’s broadside would influence on-the-fence Republican senators with the power to torpedo Kavanaugh’s nomination.

“I have no doubt that, if the attack on Dr. Ford was as bad as she says, charges would have been immediately filed with local Law Enforcement Authorities by either her or her loving parents,” Trump said in a Friday tweet, his first to mention Kavanaugh’s accuser by name.

Ford said in an interview with The Washington Post published Sunday that she told no one of the incident in any detail until 2012, when she was in couples therapy with her husband. By Friday afternoon, the hashtag #WhyI­DidntReport was trending on Twitter, with thousands of people coming forward to explain their hesi­ta­tion to contact authorities.

Are Republicans judging Kavanaugh’s accuser before she’s spoken?

Also on Friday, Trump tweeted: “Let her testify, or not, and TAKE THE VOTE!”

“He was born for the U.S Supreme Court. He was born for it. And it’s going to happen. It’s going to happen,” Trump said at a rally in Missouri on Friday night.

In a departure from his usual instincts to go on the attack, Trump had remained relatively restrained in his public remarks about Ford’s accusation. Until Friday, the president mostly defended Kavanaugh’s character while stressing that Ford should be allowed to be heard.

His latest comments triggered a widespread backlash from Democratic lawmakers and a few moderate Republican senators who have not declared whether they will support Kavanaugh. Republicans hold a slim 51-to-49 advantage in the Senate.

“I was appalled by the president’s tweet,” said Sen. Susan Collins (R-Maine). “First of all, we know that allegations of sexual assault — I’m not saying that’s what happened in this case — but we know allegations of sexual assault are one of the most unreported crimes that exist. So I thought that the president’s tweet was completely inappropriate and wrong.” Sen. Jeff Flake (R-Ariz.) sounded a similar note, saying, “I thought that was incredibly insensitive.”

Democrats were even more critical. Sen. Maggie Hassan (N.H.)tweeted: “The President’s comments are one of the reasons why it is so hard for survivors of sexual assault [to] come forward.”

Ford met with the FBI on Friday afternoon as part of its investigation of death threats she has received since agreeing to go public with her allegations, according to Katz. Accordingly, Katz told Grassley’s aides in her email, “we would need until tomorrow to confer with her and to be able to provide you with a well-considered response.”

Amid the firestorm over Trump’s tweet, McConnell predicted Kavanaugh would soon be confirmed, calling him a “stunningly successful individual.”

“You’ve watched the fight. You’ve watched the tactics,” McConnell said during remarks at the Values Voter Summit, an annual gathering of social conservatives, in Washington. “Here’s what I want to tell you: In the very near future, Judge Kavanaugh will be on the United States Supreme Court.”

Negotiations between Senate Republicans and Ford’s lawyers dragged into Friday evening and centered on whether Ford would testify and under what conditions.

In a note from Grassley’s staff to Ford’s lawyers, the Republicans said they were willing to accommodate several of the professor’s requests for testifying before the committee. Those included ensuring that she had proper security and breaks during her testimony, that all senators get equal time to speak, that press access be limited, and that just one camera be allowed in the room. She also asked that Kavanaugh not be present as she speaks.

But Republicans made clear they would not agree to some of her other requests. Among those were that Kavanaugh testify first and that the committee subpoena Mark Judge — a Kavanaugh friend who Ford says was present during the alleged incident — and call other potential witnesses to the hearing. The Republicans also offered a Wednesday hearing, rather than Thursday as Ford had asked for, and they wanted to reserve the option of having female staff attorneys on the committee do the questioning.

The Senate Judiciary Committee sent its counterproposal to Ford’s attorneys Friday afternoon.

“We want to hear Dr. Ford’s testimony and are prepared to accommodate many of your demands, including further delaying a hearing that is currently scheduled for Monday,” Grassley said. “We are unwilling to accommodate your unreasonable demands. Outside counsel may not dictate the terms under which committee business will be conducted.”

Democrats protested the deadlines imposed by Grassley, saying they were tantamount to bullying. And Katz said she emailed his aides about Ford’s FBI meeting at 4:01 p.m. and heard back at 5:47 p.m., “insisting that we accept your ‘invitation’ for a Wednesday hearing by 10:00 p.m. tonight.”

Sen. Dianne Feinstein (Calif.), the top Democrat on the Judiciary Committee, said in a statement that she was “shocked and appalled by the Republicans’ refusal to wait 24 hours for a hearing and instead rush forward with a vote.”

Some Republican senators also feel strongly that an outside counsel should handle the questioning, one GOP official said — although Ford does not want outside lawyers brought in because it would make her less comfortable, according to her attorneys.

Over the span of three hours Friday, Trump tweeted several times about Ford and Kavanaugh from Las Vegas, where he held a political rally Thursday night and did a couple of events Friday.

In one tweet, he contended that Kavanaugh is under assault by “radical left wing politicians” who are not interested in the truth about the allegation but instead “just want to destroy and delay.”

The president also took aim at “radical left lawyers” who he said are seeking to get the FBI to investigate Ford’s allegations, saying: “Why didn’t someone call the FBI 36 years ago?”

Katz and Democratic senators have called for the FBI to reopen its background-check investigation of Kavanaugh. The FBI has said it has no plans to do so unless the White House asks for such an investigation. A Justice Department spokesman said earlier this week that Ford’s allegation “does not involve any potential federal crime.”

Ford told The Post in the interview published Sunday that Kavanaugh drunkenly pinned her to a bed, groped her and put his hand over her mouth to stifle her screams at a house party in the early 1980s. The alleged incident occurred while both were students at separate schools in Maryland. Kavanaugh has firmly denied the accusation.

Ford said she told no one at the time what had happened to her. She was terrified, she said, that she would be in trouble if her parents realized she had been at a party where teenagers were drinking, and she worried they might figure it out even if she did not tell them.

A 2015 Washington Post-Kaiser Family Foundation survey of current and recent college students found that 88 percent of women who experienced unwanted sexual contact did not tell police or university authorities about the incidents. The result was the same among women who reported sexual assault by force or threat, as well as those who were incapacitated and unable to give consent.

About six dozen women appeared at a news conference in Washington on Friday morning to show support for Kavanaugh. Standing under a banner with the hashtag #IStandWithBrett in pink lettering, several of them spoke about their interactions with him over the years and vouched for his character.

One of the women, Meghan McCaleb, said she was a close friend of Kavanaugh in high school and also knew Ford, but “not well. She was friends of friends.” McCaleb said that she never recalled being at a party with Ford and that she “hung with a different crew than we hung with.”

Ford also received some backup. Samantha Guerry, her friend and former classmate, expressed exasperation at Trump’s question about why she didn’t report the alleged incident to the FBI years ago, which he also posed a day earlier in an interview with Fox News.

“The idea that someone would have told the FBI 36 years ago is ludicrous,” she said in an interview with CNN, noting that many women who are assaulted “are extremely unlikely to tell anyone.”

Emma Brown, Scott Clement, Carol Leonnig and David Weigel and contributed to this report.

Phroyd

[dansnaturepictures]

9/01/20-Peregrine year tick at lunch and moon on the way home

After my year tick filled trip away on my first day back at work my lunch time resembled my New Year’s Day Lakeside walk where I dash about to different habitats trying to see a host of different birds that I at that early stage have not seen in a year. Today there were three birds I have not seen yet this year that I knew I could see in Winchester my work city, whether that be something I have long been seeing here or only recently saw about town. I brought my spare bridge camera as I said I would do in previous blogs along for the ride.

The one o’clock dash took me firstly to St. Thomas Church where I had been consistently seeing the Winchester Peregrines since late November but no sign. I had started if I was honest to stop seeing them there in late December on a few days and whilst I was off one was reported on Hampshire bird sightings website goingbirding at its nesting ground Winchester Cathedral. I had not seen one there since November or photographed one there since October something I had really done monthly until that point. I headed there next and as I walked towards the north tower I was delighted to see a raptor figure looming large at the west end of the ledge they frequent just above where they build their nest. I knew what it was at that stage I think and I delightfully confirmed it was this falcon through the binoculars. I then as I have done countless times now zoomed in on my bridge camera to capture this beautiful view. I took the first four pictures in this photoset of this bird. I felt so amazing doing this again and I was thrilled to see my always important first Peregrine of the year. This felt like another amazing moment in my journey with these birds too I felt such joy seeing them. Yes I saw them at the cathedral in 2018 which I was proud of but really 2019 was the year I followed them from start to finish so you wonder is it a thing of that year but they are one of my favourite birds and I really savoured seeing one in 2020 today. 

I may have been seeing Peregrines about Winchester during my working days since 2017 but this was only the second time I’d got it as a year tick at Winchester Cathedral after finally seeing one as my bogey bird that year in May 2018. I have seen my first Peregrine in a year in a range of places over the years, including Keyhaven in 2015 five years ago today in fact. An exciting early sighting as it was today. Any time spent with this remarkable and famous bird at any time of year though is precious and I could not take my eyes of this individual. It’s my seventh bird of prey species seen in 2020 now and the twelfth of my twenty eighth favourite birds I have seen this year so far. It definitely added to an illustrious list of top birds seen so far in 2020 well. Nice to get to focus on birdwatching for a bit during my first day back. 

I then headed to the River Itchen near Winchester Mill where the Chiffchaff I kept seeing there in December on lunch breaks and the frequent Grey Wagtails there a bird I have ticked here two years running before was on my mind. I did not see either this time and as I walked down the river the rain shower that I knew would be coming finally caught up with me. I’d done well to stay dry up until that point as the weather changed from sunny to cloudy just before I went out. I did see a lovely little Wren on the wall here though a year tick at this spot last year on 2nd January. I shall definitely go to the river as much as I can until I see Grey Wagtail unless I see it somewhere else but this is one of the best places I know for them. Chiffchaff rather felt a  bit fluke like and I should have plenty of places to try and see them in the spring. I was happy to get at least one of my year tick targets seen on lunch today but it feels exciting to have some still to aim for. 

For now it will probably be without my bridge camera, I said in my blog yesterday I didn’t want to take it tomorrow due to not wanting to have much to do tomorrow evening to be quite honest due to an early start Saturday and a slight little commitment looking after the dogs too. If I wasn’t seeing Peregrines I was happy to take the bridge camera once a week for the time being, that would be Monday or Friday as from Tuesday-Thursday I am round my Dad’s house in a typical week where I don’t take any cameras but Grey Wagtails to be honest with these fast and sudden movements aren’t the best thing to use the bridge camera for. I have taken pictures of them last year on days I brought the camera for Peregrines etc. which were maybe not my best of the species whereas the Cathedral and St. Thomas Church allow me to get closer to Peregrines than I ever have before so I am not as fussed about having a camera there for Grey Wagtail I would just be very happy to see one. I don’t need to be photographing birds in my lunch breaks to be enjoying them and sometimes its nice to take the simple joy of just watching birds through binoculars or otherwise. So yeah barring anything special popping up I probably won’t see need to take this camera to work now until February where the journey began for me taking the camera once a month (mostly) to try to photograph the Peregrines. On the way home so on my way to the station in Winchester I took yet another moon picture with my P900 bridge camera something I am really finding it very useful for and I think this was my best yet. 

Wildlife Sightings Summary: My first of one of my favourite birds the Peregrine this year, Herring Gull, Wren, Feral Pigeon and I heard Robin. 

[otc-dramaturgy]

Miranda Monday

So this is a special Miranda Monday. Because it’s also about Our Town. Because In the Heights and Our Town are the same show.

I know. I know. I know. 

You’re like, “But I don’t see the Stage Manager rapping. Sonny and Usnavi don’t have to get up and milk cows before they go to the bodega. George and Emily don’t sing a beautiful bilingual duet on a fire escape (though, like, are two ladders really all that different than fire escapes?).” 

But let’s break down these plays a little bit more. At their core, they’re both about home. Grover’s Corners and Washington Heights may be completely different (a small New Hampshire town and a neighborhood in New York) but they are the only locations in which their respective plays take place. These places are homes to generations of characters (Grover’s Corners for what feels like and probably was centuries, Washington Heights for at least one generation back, with Usnavi’s parents, Abuela Claudia, and Camila and Kevin immigrating when they were much younger), who went on to start businesses and make something of themselves. 

Zooming in a bit more, we take a closer look at the lovers: George and Emily vs. Benny and Nina. In each, we have the well-meaning (but flawed) man who dreams of something greater than his current status. Benny’s ambition is to own his own business (“I’ll be a businessman, richer than Nina’s daddy”), whereas George wants to go to Agriculture school so he can run his uncle’s farm more efficiently, even if he does give this dream up to stay with Emily (“Emily, if I go to State Agriculture College next year, will you write me a letter once in a while?”... “Uncle Luke’s getting old - he’s about ready for me to start in taking over his farm tomorrow, if I could...”). 

However, both of these characters have something to learn from their better halves (yes, I know I’m putting judgment on these characters, but Nina and Emily are just good characters and good people and I like them more, OK?). The women teach them, both in a literal sense and in a figurative one. Emily teaches George math (“I’ll tell you one thing: the answer’s in yards.”... “In square yards.”... “In square yards of wallpaper.”), whereas Nina teaches Benny Spanish (all of “Sunrise”). However, they also both teach them how to be better people; Nina’s “I thought you were different” and Emily’s “George, it’s a fact, you’ve got awful conceited and stuck up, and all the girls say so...” are direct parallels of each other. 

Now, these aren’t unusual parallels; I’m sure I could name 50 stories with this same coupling pattern. However, there is another huge similarity and that revolves around the theatrical concept of meta-theatre. 

Let’s examine Usnavi and the Stage Manager now. Usnavi begins by directly addressing the audience:

“Hey y’all, good morning. I am Usnavi and you’ve probably never heard my name, Reports of my fame are greatly exaggerated... Now, you’re probably thinking, ‘I’m up shit’s creek, I’ve never been north of 96th Street.’... I hope you’re writing this down, I’m gonna test you later... So turn up the stage lights, We’re taking a flight, To a couple of days in the life of what it’s like En Washington Heights.”

The Stage Manager starts his play similarly:

“This play is called Our Town... The sky is just beginning to show some streaks of light over in the East there, behind the mount’in... Well, I’d better show you how our town lies... Nice town, y’know what I mean? Nobody very remarkable ever come out of it, s’far as we know.... So - another day’s begun.”

(Also, wow, that is a monologue. I cut roughly 90% of it and it’s still a full paragraph. Have fun, Jon Hudson Odom)

This concept, where a narrator breaks the fourth wall to address the audience directly, goes by many names, but it’s largely referred to, at least in terms of Our Town, as meta-theatre, meaning that this is a play that knows it’s a play. The only time this concept is ever really brought up in Heights is in this final moment of the opening number (“So turn up the stage lights”), but Our Town runs it the entire time, even going so far as to name our narrator the Stage Manager. 

And like that isn’t the last major parallel either. Think about the plays thematically! They both chronicle three days, though In the Heights is three consecutive days and Our Town is spread out over several years. Over these three days, we talk about family, love, life, and death (among many other similar themes). But that could be an entirely separate blog post so instead I’m going to leave it with this: 

(Olney is doing the same play twice pass it on)