#by the request of the school fam namely Haze and Soph

[loving-jack-kelly]

I Live in Nightvale

Reasons why my town is actually Nightvale:

One time somebody stole a bowl of soup. We know this because my family came home to a dirty bowl in the sink and our crock pot lid off. We don’t know who stole the soup or why, but nobody had been home all day.

A moose fell in an old well and couldn't be saved. A local family took it home and ate it, we think.

I have a cousin who disappears into the woods with nothing but a bear skin sometimes and reemerges after a few days.

The same cousin has such a high pain tolerance that he fell fifteen feet out of a tree onto a bucket and slipped three disks in his back and yet wasn't in enough pain to go see a doctor for three years.

 “Do not go into the woods next to the playground, unless you are on the path. Only enter the path with a teacher. Do not ever leave the path. If you enter the woods and get hurt, it’s your fault.” (A message from the teachers of the only school that was given the first day of school every year)

 “The birds fly into the windows often, it’s okay. Ashton, go put the bird in the woods, but keep yourself out.” (eighth grade english)

 There’s a carnival every year. All the same people run the same booths and same rides in the same spots every year. One year the swings didn't come. Now nobody mentions the swings. One time I mentioned how much my older sister used to love the swings and she looked at me blankly. We literally don't talk about the swings anymore.

 We have a first selectman instead of a mayor. Wade Cole has been our first selectman for literally longer than I’ve been alive. Nobody runs against him. Last year somebody ran against him and lost, and now he’s moved out of town. Wade Cole is still our first selectman.

 We have as many churches than other public spaces combined. Three churches. One restaurant, one post office, one public library. The library barely counts, as it’s open four hours a week.

 Mr. Welcome has always been the social studies teacher. He teaches math once in a while. He used to keep a pig’s brain in the freezer. Or maybe it was a cow’s brain. The story changes every time we ask.

 One school, pre k to eighth. 200 kids, just about. And yet, nobody’s parents are in the PTO. Who is in the PTO? Not my mom, who’s also a teacher. Not my dad, either. Not any of my friends’ parents.

 There used to be a store and a gas station. It burned down. Now nothing is there. There is grass and then a church on one side and a cemetery on the other. Nothing but grass where the store used to be though.

 The bears wake up every spring. Most people take their bird feeders down so the bears don’t get them. Aunt Liz leaves hers up, bears are common on our road.

 Everyone is Norwegian, and everyone is related. We have the norwegian festival every winter to celebrate how Norwegian we are. One time a man got up and sang in Swedish at our Norwegian fest. He’s not allowed to sing at the Norwegian fest anymore.

 Mr. A drives a fifteen passenger van with tinted windows. Mr. A gives rides to schoolchildren in his van. But Mr. A is a beloved member of the community, loved and trusted by literally everyone. The van is a symbol of his large family, also loved by the community. Mr. A is my favorite person.

 Plays I participated in in middle school:

  “Joust” (King Arthur but with boomwhackers instead of swords. Boomwhackers are hollow plastic tubes that play a note when you hit something with them. We harmonized with the boomwhackers. I was a knight called Sir Prize)

  “Attack of the Killer Grasshoppers” (A skin cream turned members of a school science fair into giant grasshoppers. Potatoes painted green turned them back into people. I played a deaf old janitor named Mr. Stardrifter)

  “Magic Tree House” (Actually normal. I was Jack. It was awesome.)

  “The Ever After” (A talk show reuniting and reconciling fairy tale heroes and villains. I was the sleazy talk show host. By far my best middle school role. My name was Monteray Jack Chesterfield Williamson III)

 “One time I saw Hunter C. in the woods. He was eating a tree. Hunter C. is cRaZy!” (one of the many Hunter C. memes. Hunter C. was strange)

 Crazy hair day equals most people use washable hair dye, one person per grade is Pippi Longstocking, somebody does the bottle up do thing. At least one boy does a Mr. Welcome hairdo. One person doesn't do anything and is ignored all day.

 Candy on Fridays except when there wasn't school unless it was a good friday and then you get candy anyway because after all, Candy on Fridays.

 In the summer the swing mats from the school playground always go missing. One end up in the orange math game thingy that nobody uses. Nobody knows who’s doing it, but it happens every year.

 The Lego Man who lives in the brown house. Nobody knows his name but sometimes he leaves packages of Legos on his driveway for the kids. He works for Lego. We aren't sure who he is.

 There’s these little wooden houses? Everyone has at least one, usually of the Coach and Four? But like? Nobody I’ve ever asked has been able to say where they come from? But everyone has one.

 Last winter every town around had at least six inches of snow. I spent Christmas in a sweatshirt. No snow. Usually we get way more snow than the surrounding towns. We were in a weather bubble or something.

Also weather related, driving up from the town I go to high school in, there’s a corner. One specific corner. If you watch your car’s thermometer, when you go around the corner, the temperature drops a least five degrees every time.

 I’m related to literally half the town. Of the around 1000 households in town, 500 of them are related to me. My grandpa counted.

Uncle Arnie man. My Uncle Arnie died when I was like six and then I replaced him. With some random guy who went to my church. I called this man Uncle Arnie for years. Literally until I was like fifteen. I found out Uncle Arnie died last year. I’ve been calling Ray, Uncle Arnie for nine years, and nobody corrected me. I found out because he spoke in church and his name is Ray. Not Arnie. His wife is not my Tante Ruthie. I don't even know who she is, but I’ve been calling her Tante Ruthie. Nobody corrected me. For nine. Years.