Suburgatory (28 page)

“You know I bet forty years from now we'll look back and realize that some of the giants of yesteryear—David Hasselhoff, Michele Bachmann, all the Kardashians—they had undiagnosed FG-NOS and were misunderstood as the quirky child geniuses that they were. And my Kilkenny will be able to speak out as one of the first to say ‘I had it, I'm hugely successful now, and you can make it out the other side, too.'”

Indian Child Taunted as
“New Jew” at Middle School

Suburgatory, USA—The District Attorney is investigating a possible hate crime at the Lexington Middle School, after an Indian child reported being taunted as a “New Jew” by several classmates.

The student, Nikhil Chaudry, thirteen, said that four children, over the span of approximately one month, referred to him as the “New Jew” after Chaudry captured the high score in the regional televised teen trivia show,
Answers Please.

Chaudry's family arrived from India four years ago and quickly developed the successful Currying Flavor chain of restaurants. They have been seeking, and gaining, political influence with large donations to politicians on both sides of the aisle.

The Chaudry child is described by his teachers variously as “a superstar,” “a relentless worker,” and “a joy to have in the classroom.” One said, “if only I had twenty more like him.”

They said Chaudry's academic success and the family's emerging prominence has apparently engendered resentment among the other children.

The Chaudry child gave a statement to reporters. “One kid said I was the ‘New Jew.' He said we just hoard all our money. Another kid chanted ‘New Jew, New Jew' and said ‘You people want to take over the world. You took our jobs over there and now you want them here and I'm going to end up going to Green Valley Community College.' Another one said ‘We don't need you making us look bad every day to Mrs. Kelley. Don't you have a Wii? And where's your iPhone? What do you do after school? Sample SATs?' Someone else said, ‘You people can make all the money you want but my dad said you are still going to smell like curry no matter what [expletive] Ivy League school you get into.'”

Chaudry added, “I didn't actually think it was that bad. I thought they were going to call me a terrorist or something. I didn't even know what they meant by ‘New Jew.' It was my mom and dad who got really mad, after I told them.”

Parents of two of the accused bullies spoke on condition of anonymity.

“Nikhil doesn't play any sports. It's just school, school, school, school. Now how are our kids supposed to compete academically against that? I think activities should be weighted along with academics. I mean, does our country really need all these single-minded brainiacs? Is that the message we want to give the kids, that soccer is meaningless and that the teamwork they learn in lacrosse doesn't matter? That's not my America.”

Another visibly angry parent said this: “By the way, why do you think his parents are pushing this case? To raise his profile even further? Of course that's why. It's good free advertising for Currying Flavor, like they need any more, and it'll make Nikhil stand out even more on those college applications.”

No matter the outcome of the case, Nikhil Chaudry believes he'll have the last laugh. “They can call me ‘New Jew' all they want. All I care about is getting into MIT or Cal Tech and making tons of cash. And in twenty years they'll be pumping gas into my Escalade, at one of the gas stations my cousin Naresh owns. And I'll be married to Miranda Cosgrove. I'll be bigger than Zuckerberg.”

SHOUT OUT

In Fifteen Years, Awkward Girl,
You'll Be Totally Hot

Nathan Brodie is a novelist who lives on Mareau Street.

As a college professor I do quite a bit of work at home, as my desk points out the window of the red house with yellow shutters. Each day I see the young, fresh teenagers trundling past me from the high school. In a strange way I feel as if I have gotten to know them, in my fantasies, in an utterly nonsexual and nonthreatening way.

So know this, if you ever read this, Awkward Teen Girl with the red windbreaker and funky retro purple glasses: I am not stalking you. (You hear that too, Awkward Teen Girl's father? No need to come a-knocking on this door! Nothing but pure intentions on my part!) This is merely a paternal word of advice. Awkward Teen Girl, you'll be totally hot in fifteen years.

Now, I know, you don't believe it. The popular boys surely have no use for you, and you've already gotten used to that. But what you're realizing
now
is that even the barely cute geeky ones, like I used to be, don't like you either! Well, they don't know what they'll be missing in fifteen years. The Pretty, Not-Awkward Girls have figured out their look at age fifteen and it's all downhill from there. Trust me, I know all too well. Having no originality, because it is not required of the Pretty, Not-Awkward Girls, they rest on their aesthetic laurels and cling to that one trashy look that worked so well for them in high school. Well, by thirty, that ain't looking so great anymore.

You, on the other hand, Awkward Teen Girl, are already struggling to distinguish yourself from the Pretty, Not-­Awkward Girl and this is making you stronger! By twenty-five you'll have given up your adorably funky glasses for something more professionally appropriate for your challenging and exciting career. You'll be getting your hair, nails, and toes done and feel great inside and out. Look to Tina Fey—and see your bright, Not Awkward, Totally Hot future.

Believe me I wish I could shake those boys who spurn you and say, “Don't make the mistake I made!” But that's how life works, as you probably know already, because precocious wisdom is surely one of your signature gifts. Sadly, that's just one of those talents that alienates or threatens teenage boys, but is utterly charming to a forty-year-old man. So I just want to assure you that in fifteen years, I'll probably still be here, rooting for you in a nonsexual way. Now you know where I live, if you want to wave, please do! And it's true what the gays say, sweetie, it really does get better!

Santa Asks Child for
New Liver for Christmas

Suburgatory, USA—Santa Claus, the giver of joy and delight to children the world over, today asked a four-year-old local boy to wish for a new liver for Santa, and gave the back-story on his cirrhosis diagnosis, along with other maladies.

“Hi, Santa!” said Nick Gardner, as he leaped onto Santa's lap at the town's high-end Northway Mall. Gardner lives with his parents in the affluent Westgate neighborhood.

Santa:
Why, hello boy. Merry Christmas! What's the name. Oh, Nick? Hey, don't bounce too much, boy, got some stones I'm passin'. Wha-chu want for Christmas, little man?

Nick:
Um um um I want the Power Rangers Operation Overdrive Mega Mission Helmet . . . and the . . . and the . . .

Santa:
You know what I want, Nick? I want to kick this infernal cirrhosis. Let me tell you a little story, Nick. Back in the '80s, my woman, Mrs. Claus, had a little problem with a very dangerous game, let's just call it “smack.”

Nick:
Smack, smack, smack!

Santa:
My lady and I, we were travelin' 'round this great big country—you know, when we're not at the North Pole—parking our RV at whatever KOA we could find, takin' in whatever life brought our way. KOA is Campgrounds of America in case you don't know. . . .

Nick:
I've never been camping! I swim in the hot time at the Club! You know what else I want?

Santa:
. . . and Mrs. Claus couldn't stop playin' that smack game. And there was a whole passel of people at the campgrounds who played that game, too. And then Santa started playin' that game, too. Again and again and again.

Nick:
That musta been fun, Santa!

Santa:
Well, I'm not gonna lie, Nick, Santa loved the game and so did Santa's lady. Those were some crazy times for your ole Santa. Matter a fact, I think about playin' that game all the dang time. But now I got a little something called cirrhosis. And now somethin' real important inside Santa—Santa's liver—well, it's shot.

Nick:
Oh gross! I hate liver! Mommy tried to give me that because she said, she said, she said it's got a lotta good iron in it! It makes me grow important like Daddy to make big money! It grows my brain! [Nick put both hands to his head.]

Santa:
Well, Nick, you wouldn't like my liver at all. It's all scarred up and spent and hard like the coal we give bad little boys, not like you, the bad ones I'm talking 'bout. Santa's got his own list you know, a list for a newfangled liver, all fresh and shiny and red and tied up with a bow. But, well, it's in God's hands now.

Nick:
But aren't you, aren't you, like God, Santa? Could you call him on your Santa phone?

Santa:
Ho! Ho! Ho! That'd be a real kick in Santa's big red pants if he could! Santa would get a brand new liver for Christmas and maybe even get rid of that sweet blood, too. I shouldn't make it sound all that bad, Nick. That darn cirrhosis is why my tummy is so puffed up and that's how I got to be Santa here at the mall. And this year, Santa needed work. Santa needed it real real bad.

Nick:
You're a silly Santa, Santa! See you next year!

Santa:
Well if you are a very good little boy, and wish for Santa to get that new liver he was tellin' you about, you just might see me next year and I'll have lots more silly stories 'bout me and Mrs. Claus to tell you.

Nick:
Bye Santa! Merry Christmas!

And with that, Nick and his mom, who was on her iPhone during the whole discussion, left for last-minute shopping at Bloomingdale's.

Dad Forcibly Removed from
Mall Massage Chair

Suburgatory, USA—An unemployed, reluctant stay-at-home dad has become an unwelcome regular at the Brookstone within the struggling Atrium Mall. Yesterday he was forcibly removed from the Ultimate Robotic Human Touch Massage Chair.