Suburgatory (24 page)

“The rich are different.” The stupid rich don't know where that phrase comes from. And that's just fine with us.
Briarcliff Academy.

Playground Vagina, Loved
and Loathed Town Landmark

Suburgatory, USA—The fight over the so-called Playground Vagina has come to a head as both sides war over the fate of a landmark either loved or loathed among squabbling townspeople.

It's unclear when exactly Playground Vagina came to be. “I mean there was this enclosed slide that the dads always thought looked like, you know, a vagina. We would joke about it,” said Brad Silver.

“Yeah, we would look at all the kids rolling around in it and say, ‘Hey that vag is seeing more action than Lindsay Lohan's! Or Paris Hilton's! Or Kim Kardashian's! Or whoever the fun slut of the moment is, you know?” said Harry Manwald.

“Then one day,” said Silver, “it was like the smut gods smiled on us bored-out-of-our mind dads or something, and we arrived at the playground to see that someone, probably some teenage squirt, had written
Vagina
right at the mouth of the slide. We laughed our asses off. That was a great day, wasn't it?” Manwald agreed. “Totally.”

Carey Manheim didn't see it that way. She immediately assembled a group of moms to scrub the Vagina off. “We, as concerned moms, did not think that when we take our children to the playground anyone should be thinking about their genitals. That is the only purpose of Playground Vagina—to stimulate talk about the genitals and stimulate the genitals themselves.”

The dads grumbled, and each side, the dads and the concerned moms, thought that was the end of that. But they were very wrong.

Angered by the removal of the first
Vagina
, the playground prankster stepped it up a notch. The next phrase to appear was
Pink Taco
. “Oh God, we were high-fiving when we saw it, we loved it so much. And we could never have dreamed it would get even funnier,” said Silver. And yes, over a series of six months, the following names appeared on the top of Playground Vagina, unleashing a cycle of removals and reappearances:

Furburger
. Then
Juicy Box
. Then
Mrs. Fluffy
. Then
Spasm Chasm
. And then, finally, the one that was both the dads' favorite and the final straw for the concerned moms,
Cooz McSlimy
.

At that point, the majority of moms thought the only solution was to remove the actual piece of equipment. Manheim, the first mom to rail against Playground Vagina was surprisingly against the idea, arguing that the children shouldn't have to suffer from the actions of some filthy teenage boy.

The mystery was solved one night after a park supervisor realized he'd left his toolbox and returned to find Manheim, with spray can in hand. After she was fined by the police, Manheim was asked to explain her bizarre actions. “I'm bored out of my mind. These dads think they're bored out of their minds? They're only here a few times a week, not a few times a day.” But why did she advocate removing the original
Vagina
? “Oh, you know when you get away with something you get hungry for more? Like Anthony Weiner? That's me,” said Manheim.

The dads, when they first saw Manheim again, were so in awe of her they could barely speak. The bravest among them said, “We didn't think girls . . . knew all those names.” “You're forgetting I actually have a vagina!” And with that Manheim joined the brotherhood, having already been cast out by her old sister-moms.

Little Loman's Lemonade Stand

Suburgatory, USA—A pint-sized Willy Loman is selling lemonade, Nilla wafers, and despair over on the corner of Cartwright Street and Elm.

“We're out there, baking in the sun, dreaming of closing a few measly sales, and what do we get? Dust in our face from the Caddies just whizzing by without a care in the world,” declared sad-sack eight-year-old Jonah Miller.

“What's a caddie?” asked seven-year-old Abby Green, who'd do anything, anything in the world to save Miller from the terminal gloom that's descended on him these past two days of selling no more than two lemonades and one Nilla wafer. But mostly she has no idea what he's talking about.

“It's what the great man drives, doll, not you and not me,” said Jonah.

Miller has spent much of the weekend manning the stand. And what a weekend it has been. It began with the exhilarating promise of little-boy riches and is ending with the dying dreams on the hard streets of a suburban town on the edge of a haunted future.

“I look around . . . I see these other lemonade stands . . . every one of them grabbing for just one tiny crumb off the delicious cake that is America. But what are we really in this for, this rat-race that takes a boy who gives his blood, sweat, and guts and eats him alive? Why Abby? Why?” Jonah implored.

“Because we wanted money to get tokens at Chuck E. Cheese, remember?” responded Abby.

“It isn't right, what kind of life is this, in the greatest town in the loudest country in the world?” Jonah questioned, putting his arms and head down on the stand.

Abby ran to get her mother. “You know, I could kick myself for even letting Abby and her weird friend Jonah set up that little dread-factory. I should have known that they'd be out there, just asking to get their hearts broken,” said Peggy Green. “Everyone drives in suburbia. You know, his cousins Ben, Josh, and Daniel in New York set up a stand at 82nd and Madison—“Lempops”—and made, I'm not kidding, two hundred bucks in two hours? It wasn't even real lemonade! But here, the only people on the roads or sidewalks are these psychotic runner-mommies, who wouldn't ever
think
of stopping to give these kids one moment of dignity. ‘What, you want us to eat your fake lemonade and cardboard carb-laden poison cookies?' Well if it was your kid, you'd stop. I'm sure if it was a Botox stand they'd be lined up half a block long.”

Green immediately put out the message—“Attention Must Be Paid” to locals on Facebook and Twitter, telling them if they didn't go out and buy a Dixie cup and a Nilla wafer
now,
they risked her unfriending and unfollowing. “And public backstabbing, too,” she said.

When people finally started arriving, Jonah picked up his head slowly and seemed at least relieved, but by no means redeemed. Would he now ever consider a career in sales? Jonah took a deep, defeated breath. “No. There's only one place where a beaten soul can hold his head high and shoot for honor and esteem in a boy-eat-boy world, and that's behind the toy counter at Chuck E. Cheese.”

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Anti-Vaxxer Barbie Doll Unveiled

Suburgatory, USA—Anti-vaccination activists have unveiled their latest ammunition in the battle to raise awareness of the harm they say that vaccines can cause: Anti-Vaxxer Barbie. The blond, amply proportioned anti-vaccination crusader spouts a number of slogans written by Charlotte Burger, head of the advocacy group Vaxxer Zappers, including:

Measles schmeasles.

Vax are whack.

Protect me, don't inject me.

Your gut knows, your pediatrician doesn't.

Think for yourself. Just say no.

Before you poke, Google it.

Pox or vax? I choose pox..

Burger demonstrated the doll, a retrofitted 1992 Teen Talk Barbie, with matted hair and a disheveled outfit. “I know she looks like, well, she's looking a little used, and the clothes are so dated. But we hope people focus on the important message that Anti Vaxxer Barbie is delivering.” She began playing the doll, pushing the button on the back.

Vaccines—pushing poison.

Will I ever have enough clothes?

“Oh no,” said Burger. “That last one isn't supposed to be in there. I thought we had gotten all the old Teen Talk Barbie phrases cleared out. Let's try again,” she said.

No to the needle! No to the needle!

Wanna have a pizza party?

“Goddamn it!” Burger exploded, fumbling with the doll. “One more time.”

Meet me at the mall!

Scientists don't know everything.

Big pharma, big bullies.

Math is hard!

The alternating phrases were made even more jarring because the original perky Barbie voice clashed dramatically with the harshly strident voice of Vaxxer Zapper Charlotte Burger.

“Ugh. We have a dad who tinkers with this kind of stuff, taking out the old computer chip and futzing around with it. We're really into ‘do-it-yourself,' ‘think-for-yourself,' but maybe we should have asked a professional or something,” said Burger. She tried it one last time.

You vaccinate? Go fuck yourself, sheeple.

This reporter waited for an explanation, but Burger simply said, “Oh that one is supposed to be in there!”