Vaycay

Great question! And my answer is "No, I’m not disgraced councilwoman Chrisanne Martee, I’m Sand Isle Resort Activities Director Chrisanne Martee, and you guys are in for one zinger of a three day weekend!" I know what you’re thinking: “Chrisanne, how can you show your face in the light of day!” First of all, another great question. It’s simple; with the cool help of my Sand Isle ShadeBrero. It’s patent pending and - get this - you lucky twenty will get five of them to share free of charge for the entire weekend.

Sand Isle didn’t earn its star by not having the most luxurious à la carte amenities. “What are they?” you ask? Again, three for three on questions! Step one is to reach into my ShadeBrero. In it, you will find excursion vouchers - and my room number for you barely legals! If you draw the blue card, grab your tankini because you’ll be cruising through Saturday in the Lazy Tub. The green card will score you a free trip to our “no seconds” salad bar. If you draw the red card, then say “Bonjour!” because it's tango time. You're also legally entitled to ask about the whereabouts of thousands in misappropriated homeless shelter funds, but why spoil this warm front with Chrisanne's oopsies? Hey! Now I’m the one with the questions!

Some of you may have noticed that we are unfortunately double booked this weekend. Blame that on the Big CM over here, though I promise I will personally make it up to you. I just so happened to come across a number of defunct homeless shelter cots. Don’t worry, no one was ever allowed to sleep in them. To make it a little more fun, I’ve peppered them all along the grounds. You guys will have to work together to find out where they are. If you look closely, you’ll notice clues to their locations. Hint: check your ShadeBreros!

Now there is no such thing as a “mini” bar at Sand Isle Resort, so if at any point the energy of the weekend becomes a bit too much, chillax in our beautiful, beachside Kickback Lounge. Hold up, did Chrisanne just say kickbacks? Don’t worry, I’ve checked and there aren’t any crooked union reps in there. Except maybe bartender Frank. He's been known to shell out a free Roy Rogers for a wink. But don’t tell my husband! Trust me, with the amount of guns he has, none of us want him to know about my side wink hustle! And if you’re thinking “Chrisanne, is there any way I can forget this entire three day weekend completely?” Then I’d like to answer your question with another question, “Where did you learn to ask such good questions?!”

Batman

Hey Chris, it’s your pal Batman. I heard that you want to quit tap-dance? What’s the deal man? Tapping is cool and it’s really cool for boys. Why would you ever want to quit? Is it because your mom thinks that tap is the perfect activity for a star like you? I hope not, because I think tapping is really awesome too, and if there’s one thing you can count on, it’s that I’m Batman.

Did you know I tap-dance? It keeps me active and in shape. I guess I could do that by playing football like all the other boys, but if I played football I would probably get lots of boo boos. And I couldn’t use my special Bat-Wings to fly around New York if I had a boo boo.

Tap is useful too! I keep my tap shoes in my utility belt, and one time when I was shot at, a bullet hit my tap shoes, but it hit the metal part, so I was fine. Robin didn’t have tap shoes in his utility belt because he wanted to try Karate, so he’s dead because of that. His mom is really sad now.

I could never think of making my mom sad like that. You know how those Cub Scout leaders killed my parents on my home planet? I’ll never forget that night. I remember standing next to them as they died, and my mom, choking on her own blood, gurgled to me: “Never stop tapping, and remember to keep your ankles loose in the lindy-hop because you sometimes tighten up too much!” I can’t let her down!

So that’s why I stuck with tap and why I think you should too. Also, I think driving to tap would be an awesome time to hang out with your mom’s friend Jerry. I know he’s not your dad (and he’s not trying to be!) but he’s a cool guy, and I think you should talk to him more. Plus, I heard a rumor that if you quit tap the Joker will take your dog and sell it, and it would basically be your fault.

Love,

Your Batman

Chapter 1, The Morning

Brenda peeled her eyes open and ghosted her way into an upright position. Raymond was still asleep next her. His cold, expansive stomach lifted the blanket off of her own legs, depriving her of the warmth she so craved in the morning. She was awoken, like she was every morning, by the sound of his snoring machine.

Brenda looked at Raymond. He looked tired in the way a knotted oak stump looks tired, and like a robot in the way a snoring machine looks like a robot. It wasn't always this way. When he was eighteen, football forged Raymond's torso into hardened steel, like a steely fighter robot. His laser stare penetrated through every girl at South Neck Performing Arts High School. For Brenda, a once-young, once-talented acting student, it went straight to her loins, and caused a radiation of pure sexual energy and pregnancy that drove the two into their hasty, teenage wedding.

The two oozed out from between their polyester-blend sheets. Brenda hated them but of course, with Raymond’s job, that was all they could afford. They entered the kitchen and began their daily routine. Raymond sat at the kitchen table. Brenda lazily burned toast for him. Raymond took one bite, and crumbs jumped down his body, like Brenda’s idiot sons doing their idiot parkour. One of the crumbs landed in between Raymond’s legs, in the place where his old high school penis used to be, but Brenda hadn’t seen it in some time, and she doubted that he had either.

It was once said that a woman’s uterus floated around inside her body. While her own dusty womb was firmly in place, Brenda wondered if Raymond’s penis had been floating around in the leather skein of flesh that he called a body. Perhaps that is why she had not had sex with him in years. Perhaps they were merely waiting for the moment when Raymond’s hysterical penis would pop out of his shoulder. "Ew," Brenda shuddered. 

The two lazily kissed each other “Goodbye,” and they each got into their cars. Raymond’s car screamed “I am living outside our means,” while Brenda’s simply murmured “I am sad and red.” Raymond drove off to “the office.” Brenda neither knew nor cared where Raymond worked, or even what his job was, only that he had a whore secretary, and that he wasn’t important there. Brenda was going to visit the one man who always brought her satisfaction. She pulled up to Bryan’s flower shop and walked in the door. The little bell on the door fluttered, and so did Brenda’s heart when she saw him. Bryan looked at her with that certain twinkle in his eye, that Brenda knew meant he had what could satisfy her. Brenda took Bryan’s hand and the two pranced into the back room like wicked school tots. It was there that Bryan gave Brenda what she truly needed.

Old, old drugs.