Nonsense 4 Kidz

Nonsense 4 Kidz

Editors-in-Chief

Heather “My Coke Rewards” Levinsky Zachary “Facebook Basketball” Johnson

Head Writer

Matthew “Freshly Showered” Tanzosh

Design Director

Gillian “Baking Bad” Pitzer

Art Director

Hayley “Rabbit Jacket” Blomquist

Treasurer

CONTENTS

Front Cover by Zachary Johnson and Matthew Tanzosh

Page 2

“MOMA” Ad

By Jesse Saunders “Like Us On Facebook” Ad

By Zachary Johnson

Page 4

Editorial

By Heather Levinsky and Zachary Johnson

Page 5

Mail Bag

By Nonsense Staff

Page 6

“Adoption” Comic

By Peter Soucy “Backpack Must Haves”

By Nonsense Staff

Page 7

“How To Get Your Teacher Fired”

By Spencer Charlotte

Page 8

Word Search

By Matthew Tanzosch and Zachary Johnson Maze

By Jesse Saunders and Trevor Parrish <3

Page 9

Crossword Puzzle

By Zachary Johnson

Peter “Ladies Man” Soucy

Assistant Editor Ashley Granola

Design Assistant

Jesse “Free Pizza!” Saunders

Video Head

Courtney “Bureaucracy” Richmond

Video Board

Dakar “Screen Time” Morris Mack “Number One Car Driver” Caldwell Twitter Parrish

Page 10

“Choose Your Own Adventure: 4 Kidz Edition!”

By Veronica Toone

Page 12

“Clown Poem”

By James Sweeney Art by Heather Levinsky Premade Handwritten Notes Ad

By Jesse Saunders

Page 13

“The Truth Behind Blues Clues”

By AJ Leal

Page 14

Connect The Dots, Word Scramble

By Zachary Johnson

Page 15

“The Kid Being Picked Up Last”

By Ashley Vernola

Page 16

“Growing Up With Parents Who Are Together And Love Each Other Very Much”

By Peter Soucy “What To Do When Mom Makes A Shit Lunch”

By Nonsense Staff Art by Heather Levinsky

Page 18

“Healthy Eating With Ben: A Freshen’s Review”

By Ben Fletcher

Page 20

“Heroes Among Us”

By Solange Luftman

Page 21

“An Open Letter To All The Kids Out There”

By Quin Asselin

Page 22

Game Answers

Page 23

“M.A.S.H”

By Ashley Vernola “Club Penguin” Ad

By Spencer Charlotte

Copy Board

James Sweeney Todd

Faculty Advisor

Amy “Prof K” Karofsky

Contributors:

Ariel Leal Talk Elana “Use The” Schwartz Spencer Charlotte, Private Investigator Ben Fletcher? I Hardly Know Her! Zach Klebaner? I Hardly Know Her! Solange “99 Luftman Balloons” Choose Your Own Veronica Toone Aust Vance II Kyle “Easter Sunday” Mas Kyle “Who?” Bohringer Patrick Koholic, B+ Brian “Life of A Pigeon” Stieglitz Joseph “Kolbert Report” Jason “White Privileged” Levy Quin “Quigley” Asselin Aaron “Leatherman” Ramjit Willow “General” Vanpatten HanBin “Lotion” Baik Suzie “Mac De” Marco Nonsense Humor Magazine is Hofstra’s only intentional humor magazine. Please don’t take any advice from us, because we don’t know what we’re talking about.

The views expressed herein do not necessarily represent the views of Hofstra University. Any likenesses to people existing or fictional are purely coincidental.

Nonsense Humor Magazine is not responsible for any non-non-toxic crayon accidents, professors fired for unjust reasons, poopy pants, playground bullying, or snot rockets. Don’t do drugs and stay in school!

Back Cover by Heather Levinsky

What do you call a zoo with one dog?

Editorial (Drum n bass intro) (Verse 1) My name is Snuffy and I’m here to say Drugs are bad in a really big way!

Don’t do drugs because if you do, Jesus will come after you.

(Verse 2) Ayyyy!

My name is Jesus and i’m here to say, I just rose up on Easter Sunday!

I had enough strength to break out of my tomb, So I better not find any weed in your room!

A

n Open Letter To Our Beloved Readers:

Hi everyone welcome to this issue of Nonsense Humor. I’m sure you’re just as thrilled to be reading this as much as you usually are. Thanks again for supporting us and thinking we are so funny and good. And beautiful.

Anyway we wrote this issue specifically with the thought in mind that one day, a real life child would read it. With that being said, you should not, under any circumstances, show this to a child.

We’ve taken the liberty of splitting up this editorial into 2 sections; one rated for “Gchildren,” and one rated for “Radults”. This way, the kids still get something to read, and it’s fun for the whole family.

Liike the naughty jokes in Fairly Odd Parents, or a Friendly’s that also serves beer.

Okay so here’s the one for you kiddies!

(If you’re reading this KidzBop, give us a call!)

4

(Chorus) Stay in school! Keep your body safe!

You’ve got nothing to lose if you just play sports!

Ride a bike! Swim in a lake!

Do anything besides things that are bad!

Hofstra Summer Camp: Enroll now!

Christ....out!

(Record scratch) Okay, so now that we’ve got that shit out of the way, you kids can fuck off now.

We’re serious. If you read the mommy and daddy section of the editorial, I swear to god we’ll find out.

Now for the boring grown-up shit.

Nonsense is pretty much the same as it ever was, and by that we mean we are still suffering the slings and arrows of misfortune directed at us by the bureaucratic mess that is Hofstra’s administration.

This time we deadass got censored by Res Life for “promoting a culture of negative self-esteem in the dorms” That’s hilarious, because there is no culture in the dorms, unless you count the ones growing on all the gross ass food that Matt leaves sitting out in his little rat’s nest of a bed area.

Unbelievable.

But, hey, the good news is we’re printing this out on paper! The Chronicle might have told you in its club spotlight about us that we want your jokes, but we like to think we’ve done a pretty good job on our own. We’ve managed to include some cute little popsicle stick jokes on each spread and because we don’t need to bore you with more long, drawn-out articles, we’ve even got some games in this one. Zach also tried out their hand at drawing some portraits of us after the wonderful job that Heather did last time (let’s see if they compare!). If that shit isn’t enough, we’re even handing out 250-some complimentary packs of crayons with this issue. Our students are just so creative!

Moral of the story? Fuck, I don’t know.

Don’t do drugs and then maybe end up with a real major, doing real things instead of writing for a college humor magazine?

Also if you write for the Odyssey Online get a real internship because I’m tired of seeing everyone’s wrong and bad opinions online. Jesus.

Enjoy, Zach and Heather <3

MAIL BAG

For this special issue we asked kids across Long Island to send us their questions. Here’s what they wanted to know! If you’ve got any questions you want to ask us, shoot them over to nonsensehumor@gmail.com during recess on the iPad your parents bought you for your 7th birthday, because that’s just how things are now I guess. k Nonsense should be writing for Do you really thing kids?

How do I convince my parents to buy me a puppy?

Yes.

Catch your father in the mailroom with Tina. Google blackmail.

Where do babies come from?

I’m scared of the dark, what can I do?

Ask your parents—no, fuck that, ask Siri

Stare into the void and accept your fate.

Why does this girl always draw horses in my class?

My teacher said if you smoke a cigarette you turn gay. Is this true?

Validate me.

How do I get my son to play catch with me?

Nice try, Matt

Teach him how to pitch first ;)

I’m really scared about middle school. What can I do to be less scared?

Why do I always get picked last to play kickball?

Jesus Christ, stop asking questions about things and just ostracize her like all the other kids.

Siri, what is kickball?

Buy a gun.

Am I the horse girl in my class? What should I do?

Pray

No Jeremy. Never.

I just graduated from Hofstra with a degree in English, I have no idea where my life is going and I don’t think I’m a child anymore. Do you have any advice?

No, but thanks for playing.

A Shitzu

Hopscotch and chill?

What happened to the thief who stole a calendar?

By Peter Soucy

Backpack Must - - - -

-

6

Smackers Lip Gloss Gel Pens Small sack of plums Whole pocket of Cheez-Nip Crumbs (Niplets?)

Those hair-ties that go click clack click clack when you run. I see you.

Haves

- Dunkaroos - A portable CD player - Eminem Mix CD - A gun (because it is my 2nd

Amendment Right) - Cryptic Mom Notes - The schmutz

How to Get Your

r e Fired h c a Te

By Spencer Charlotte

14% of elementary school educators get accused of sexual harassment at some point in their teaching careers. Here’s how you can get yours! Follow these ten simple steps and you too can earn a life of no homework and no worries.

2 3 4 5 6

Make eye contact. Bitches love eye contact and your teacher is definitely a bitch. Stare her down like you’re trying to see those saggy nips. Hopefully she’ll return the favor.

Fake an illness. “Miss Jones, my dick and berries are feeling a little sore.” Sure, she’ll be weirded out, but you’re nine and you need help.

Start wearing shorter and shorter clothes to school. When your mom says, “Jimmy, those are your four year old sister’s shorts,” hit her up with some gender conformity shit. Make your liberal mom feel bad for hindering your journey.

Spend your recess indoors. ;)

Ask her about her recent divorce. Make sure to call her Missus Jones each time so she HAS to correct you.

Write her long and unnecessarily personal cards each week using the writing skills you’ve been developing in class. Fuck Ms. Jones for segregating your class by level of intelligence.

I belong in Writing Level Three with the rest of you nerds! I read all of Harry Potter in two weeks. I COULD FUCKING READ YOU OLD HAG I TOOK HOOKED ON PHONICS I GOT THIS FUCKING SHIT FUCK YOU OH SHIT I HAVE A FUCKING TUTOR TRUST ME MY MOM REMINDS ME EVERY DAY THAT SHE’S SPENDING SO MUCH FUCKING MONEY LET ME PROVE TO YOU HOW SMART I AM.

7 8 9

Since your teacher thinks you’re a fucking idiot anyway. What’s two plus two? Seven, bitch. “Jimmy, I think you need to stay after class.” Good. I’ll stay after class. I’ll stay all night.

Don’t tell your parents to pick you up. Give them a vacation to Cancun to relive their college years.

Someone’s gonna have to give you a ride home.

Take pictures of yourself. All of yourself. Use your gym stretches for inspiration.

10 Here we are. The last step. Take all the hate

you have for your teacher and march into the principal’s office. Hand in the envelope of pictures and say it’s for Miss Jones. Your principal will call a class assembly and all your classmates will verify that you’re her teacher’s pet. After all, you two are always making weird eye contact and she does always keep you for special help. After three to ten short interviews with the cops and therapists you’re on your way to getting that hot sub to fill in for the entire spring.

He got 12 months

1

Why did the nurse go to the movies?

h c r a e s d Wor idz!

4K Maze 4 Kidz!

Being a kid sucks! You have to follow rules, and go to school and live a life mostly free of the soul crushing anxiety that plagues many in modern times. What.

A. Bummer. Escape childhood, lose your innocence and rush into responsibility in our totally grown up maze!

8

G a me s !

Answers on page 22

Crossword 4 Kidz!

ACROSS

2 4

7 8 10 11 13

1 3 5 6 9

12

The kid in your bike squad that nobody wants around uses these.

Your elementary school cafeteria and Hofstra have this in common!

You and your friends think everything is this. As it turns out, you’re this too ;) The only fucking worthwhile brand of crayons.

Sorry to break it to you, but you can’t sit with us. Horse girl has some room at her table though.

The kid who grew up to look like a school shooter always pretended to be one of these during recess.

To escape

DOWN

Learn how to do this or never pass notes with the cool kids.

The D.A.R.E officer told you not to use this, but if you don’t, how will you ever be one of the cool kids?

You use this space to put your shit during school hours.

The best art class snack for future fuck-ups.

The color of your sheets when I kick your ass.

Failed gradeschool? It’s okay, this college will still accept you.

If you had these as a child, you’ll undoubtedly grow up to be the douchbag who wears a bowtie every day.

What did the pig say to the little boy?

Well howdy there, boys and girls! It’s time to GO INSIDE OUR NOGGINS and create a wonderful adventure before we’re

inevitably theand CRUEL SETOUR OF NOGGINS CIRCUMSTANCES AND PAIN we’lladventure call the rest of our lives!

Well howdythrust there,into boys girls!AND It’s UNFORTUNATE time to GO INSIDE and create a wonderful before we’re youinto ready get started?

No? Tough! Life hard, Timmy, and theAND sooner youwe’ll comecalltothe realize inevitably Are thrust thetoCRUEL AND UNFORTUNATE SETisOF CIRCUMSTANCES PAIN rest that, of ourthelives!

Are appreciate you ready to started?light No?ofTough!

Life isIMAGINATION! hard, Timmy, and the ready, soonerkids, you come to realize the this sooner you’ll thegetflickering your DYING So get and STRAP IN, that, because sooner you’ll appreciate the flickering light of your DYING IMAGINATION! So get ready, kids, and STRAP IN, because this week’s fun-tastic fun-tastic adventure adventure is: is: LITTLE LITTLE TIMMY TIMMY AND AND THE THE MAGICAL MAGICAL EMPTY EMPTY BAG BAG OF OF DORITOS™!

DORITOS™! week’s

CHOOSE CHOOSE YOUR YOUR OWN OWN FREAKING FREAKING ADVENTURE: ADVENTURE: JUST FOR KIDZ EDITION! e Veronica Toon

JUST FOR KIDZ EDITION! e Veronica Toon By

By

PARAGRAPH 1

PARAGRAPH 1

PARAGRAPH 2

PARAGRAPH 2 PARAGRAPH 3

Your name is TIMMY JOHNSON. You’re an eight year-old with the intelligence level of the average comic book eight year-old. You live with MOM AND DAD, two confused caricatures of generic middle-class adults with a child smarter than they are combined. You like SpongeBob SquarePants and Minecraft.

It’s a Tuesday afternoon. You’re sitting in a classroom full of your friends and they all love you. You’re wearing youris favorite Teenage Mutant Turtles shirt,with and the you’re happy aslevel can be!

Youraverage teachercomic calls on Your name TIMMY JOHNSON. You’reNinja an eight year-old intelligence of the you to answer the question, but oh no: you weren’t paying attention! “Timmy!” she bellows, with the force to book eight year-old.

Youknees, live with MOMmake ANDmeDAD, caricatures generic adults bring an elephant to its “don’t asktwo youconfused a third time: what is of seven plus middle-class two?”

smarter than they are combined. like aSpongeBob and Minecraft.

Ifwith youa child decide to answer correctly because You you’re good boy SquarePants who never touches his no-no square, go PARAGRAPH 2. You’re sitting in a classroom full of your friends and they all love you. You’re It’stoa Tuesday afternoon.

Ifwearing you can’t go to Mutant PARAGRAPH 3. shirt, and you’re happy as can be! Your teacher calls on yourremember, favorite Teenage Ninja Turtles

you to answer the question, oh inno:your youuncomfortable weren’t payingplastic attention! she bellows, with the(which force to “Nine,” you retort, slouchingbut back chair.“Timmy!”

The teacher nods, satisfied bring an elephant to its knees, “don’t make me ask you a third time: what is seven plus two?” means she’s happy! Good job! Gold star! Big sticker!), and moves on to harrow some other prey. You pull out yourdecide CRAYONS and begin to colorbecause a super you’re duper fantastic picture something totally cool, like If you to answer correctly a good boy whoofnever touches his wicked no-no square, you a superhero or2.something. “Attention, class,” your ambiguous teacher calls, “there will be a D.A.R.E. go toasPARAGRAPH meeting today after snack time. Be sure to be ready to ask some questions!” A collective groan rises from If youpeers, can’tbut remember, go toabout PARAGRAPH your you’re excited this news.3.A D.A.R.E. meeting? They have all kinds of helpful knowhow. The bell rings, and the sound of fourteen plastic chairs scooting across linoleum echoes through the room. to retort, SNACKslouching TIME! back in your uncomfortable plastic chair. The teacher nods, satisfied (which “Nine,”Goyou means she’s happy! Good job! Gold star! Big sticker!), and moves on to harrow some other prey. You pull

You can’t remember what seven plus two is? It’s in the paragraph right above this. Golly gee, you’ve been out yourdown CRAYONS and “special” begin to color a super duperyou, fantastic picture of something totally wicked cool, like chowing on those gummies, haven’t Timmy?

you asdarn: a superhero your ambiguous teacher calls, “there will be a D.A.R.E. Aww, you’re orin something.

TIME OUT!“Attention, Go back toclass,” PARAGRAPH 1.

SNACK TIME

PARAGRAPH 3

10

SNACK TIME

meeting today after snack time. Be sure to be ready to ask some questions!” A collective groan rises from

You Mighty Morphin’ Rangers lunch box and retrieve one all WARM OF GOGURT, yourreach peers,into butyour you’re excited about Power this news.

A D.A.R.E. meeting?

They have kindsTUBE of helpful knowone bag of CRUSHED-UP GOLDFISH CRACKERS, and one POUCH OF CAPRI SUN (now equipped!). Nice. After how.

The bell rings, and the sound of fourteen plastic chairs scooting across linoleum echoes through the a brief trade of with a sad-looking boy named Matt, you get a pack of DUNKAROOS in place of your warm room. GoSucker. to SNACK TIME!your snacks and throw out your garbage like a good boy who never touches his GoGurt.

You finish no-no square. “Line up, boys and girls!” shouts your teacher, spraying spit across the room like a damn sprinkler.

You jostle what your way the front the in line, likeright a general his gee, foul-smelling, poorYou can’t remember seventoplus two is?of It’s thestanding paragraph above leading this. Golly you’ve been ly-dressed kid troops into battle, and make your way to the GYM.

chowing down on those gummies, To pay attention, go to“special” PARAGRAPH 5. haven’t you, Timmy?

Aww, darn: OUT! goGotoback to PARAGRAPH To zone out you’re during intheTIME meeting, PARAGRAPH 6. 1.

You reach into your Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers lunch box and retrieve one WARM TUBE OF GOGURT, one bag of CRUSHED-UP GOLDFISH CRACKERS, and one POUCH OF CAPRI SUN (now equipped!). Nice. After a brief trade of with a sad-looking boy named Matt, you get a pack of DUNKAROOS in place of your warm

Stop resisting.

If God exists why does he let cruelty happen?

There are a few phrases You’ll hear all your life If you are so inclined to spread laughter and light

From families of fortune and families of plight: “Why the hell’s my son crying?”

Get your hands off my wife!”

“I’m a clown!” you might shout, “It’s my job to have fun!

No need to get hostile, but I too have a gun.”

And on the Clown’s neck a tattoo, freshly drawn: “The 2nd Amendment Keeps the Clown Army Strong” With a honker like his, and those shoes, flat and long?

A half-balding scalp and a half-scalped schlong?

Why, it’s clearly no wonder His smile’s painted on Yet for all the Clown’s trials, his oppression unseen The heart of the Clown is a curious thing

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Clown

A Poem by James Sweeney

For it aches still for love and the tenderness earned from a boy whose just witnessed his whole family burn Now the Clown’s got a camera and he’s sifting through weapons For a fun little movie he’s planned on directing Of a man with a gun, who teaches a lesson Filming’s begun and its time for a close-up The boy’s found his spotlight while holding back throw-up “Now repeat after me so they never forget it...”

“I’m Ted Cruz and I approve this message!”

H

Truth Behind

ey there little buddy, sit—sit down. Good ole Grandpappy wants to feel your weight on his lap. That’s nice.

Sometimes Grandpappy needs to be reminded that his male heir is strong. You wanna hear some shit?

Everyone knows that our beloved forefather Steve Burns left the truth-seeking industry that is Blue’s Clues because of an uncontrollable cocaine addiction.

What I bet you didn’t know is that the false prophet that led us astray soon after was actually just a genetically engineered anomaly created by splicing the DNA of partially renowned actors Michael Shannon, Joaquin Phoenix, and Jonah Hill (after he got skinny).

Why would they do this? Grab a tight hold of Grandpappy’s lap lap Johnny, because the shit hit the fan years ago and I’m still wiping a couple flecks off my upper lip from time to time. It’s fucking disgusting. Years ago, the FDR administration purposely began leaking fluoride into the national underground water supply complex. Now as we all know, Blue is a boy because blue is a MASCULINE color that is BOLD and STRONG and NOT weak like,

say, an ovary or something. It is MENACING and has a PENIS and SCROTAL SUPER STAMINA. TESTOSTERONE. Trucks.

GRILL. GEORGE FOREMAN. Calling Blue a girl is a plot devised by none other than our least favorite shoe-slamming Marxist, Nikita Kruschev. (Notice how he also has a name that can belong to women ONLY). ARE YA LISTENING JOHNNY BOY? Blue is a seasoned veteran turned private eye that we must respect. Ever read Johnny Get Your Gun? Yeah.

Except Blue isn’t a pussy. Now get my gun. I’ll wait.

I don’t care if I’m scaring him, JOAN. He’s gotta learn. Where was I? Right.

How strange it is that soon after a failed Nazi experiment, Donovan Patton (his last name lulling us into a false sense of security considering classic American war god George S. Patton) entered the show, a newcomer dog was created to compete with the suave and sexy Blue; Magenta.

What exactly is magenta?

Sounds kinda like vagina doesn’t it? And yet they lead us to believe that Magenta is male. They are

By AJ Leal

trying to promote the image that masculinity is fragile and pink.

Estrogen.

Magenta is basically just another word for pink, and what is pink?

Pink is just a lighter shade of red.

Are you seeing it yet? That’s right, Magenta is a filthy fucking Commie, attempting to seduce our hero to betray the very ideas that our forefathers stood for; truth, justice, and unprotected sex. Raw. It makes me sick.

It’s just like my Grandpappy always told me, “Better dead than red.”

And, while I gotcha on m’lap, what’s the deal with the Salt and Pepper being together? I want answers. What are impressionable young Americans like you supposed to think? You know what we would have referred to Paprika as back in the day? Do ya? DO YA JOHNN—wait no, Joan, w-where are you going with the kid? I’m your commanding officer goddamn it! They’ll be back.

Has Grandpappy’s sack lunch been out this whole time? What do we have here - tuna?! No! Not since Maewha-San, I haven’t - I can’t. The memories live on like dreams that haunt my days.

¯\_(シ)_/¯

The

What is the perfect paper towel substitute?

More

G a me s !

.34 .35 .36 .37

.33

.32 .31 .30 .29

Answers on page 22

s t o D e th t c e n Con ! z d i K 4 .3 .4 .5

.2

.1 .42

.6 .7 .8

.41 .40 .38 .39

.28

.27 .26

.9

.10

.25 .24 .23 .22 .21

.11

Word Scra mble 4 Kidz!

.12

.20 .19

.13 .14

.18 .15

.16

.17

See if you can use your noggin to unscramble these mixed words and phrases! This puzzle may require your full BRAINPOWER!

Make dot to dot puzzles at picturedots.co

1) Goerge Bush ____________________________ (hint: Nothing says childhood in the early 2000’s like this presidential administration!)

2) Blaancde Bearkfast ______________________ (hint: you might have wet the bed last night, but this will start your day right!)

3) Carck Ccoaine ________________________ (hint: see scrambles 1 & 2) 4) Sunfyf ______________________ (hint: Nonsense’s super-friendly mascot, smokes with the older kids during recess) 5) Dviisoin fo Studnet Afafirs _____________________ (hint: Nonsense’s very own baby sitter!)

14

The Kid Being Picked up Last Monday, 2:23 pm The elementary school gym.

It’s Monday; Mom works late tonight. I write this from the corner of the jungle we call our gym. I sit in our aftercare program, the program for kids with parents like mine who thought keeping their job was more important than raising their child. I am left here with all of these nauseatingly enthusiastic counselors who want me to color or play basketball or do something “more productive than just sitting there”. “NO,” I tell them. Go bother someone else. There are plenty of kids on this battlefield.

There’s Julie over there sprinting around, trying to avoid the volley of dodgeballs being flung in her direction. She shields herself behind the brush with Ethan.

Ethan just sits, sobbing; he isn’t meant for this war. Elyse, stationed at the singular desk in the corner, drafts up our plans on construction paper. If there is a god, I pray he shows her the way out of this place. Of course, if there was a god what would he be doing in a place like this?

Eating boogers, probably. Tyler and John tag team the basketball court and defend it from any invaders. Plenty of people these counselors could be bothering, but of course it’s me they choose. Just leave me in this corner all alone. Leave me as I wait to see if the prophecy will fulfill itself, if I will once again be the last kid left in this gym.

Monday, 3:12 pm Good men fall every minute. I watch as they make their escape. They cannot take this warzone anymore, and must retreat to their barracks, where life is normal again. I direct my gaze at Elyse’s desk.

With every man we lose—men with families, AquaPets—her writing becomes more frantic. Whatever she’s working on, I pray she’s done before it is too late.

I envy our dead. Ethan is the first to go.

His sobbing echoes in my ears long after he is gone. I have yet to move from this spot. The counselor keeps offering me a juice box but I refuse. It is not 100% juice that I crave, but Oblivion. Or like, the ability to head home. Whichever comes first. My thoughts drift to my mother, at her desk job. Does putting those papers

in their folders occupy your mind, mother? Lost in your expense reports and accounts receivable, blissfully unaware while your son deteriorates out in this abattoir. I am done with my homework; they keep asking me if I want to play a game, but I don’t. This is not a game. I don’t know what they don’t understand about this. I hope my mom is happy, because I certainly am not.

Monday, 4:16 pm The gone (but not forgotten) now outnumber those that remain; the parents leaving work at 4:00 are rushing to the school to pick them up. Julie emerges from her hiding spot to sprint towards the door one final time. Elyse leaves her plans to emerge from this war as if nothing happened. “Bye,” they taunt. “See you tomorrow!” I’m pretty sure I’ve been sitting in my own filth for hours. I can’t remember the last time I got up to use the bathroom. My mouth is so dry and water is nowhere in sight. The counselor with the juice box has stopped visiting me, I almost miss her company. I almost miss the prospect of a juice box. I regret snapping at her the last time she came around; I responded with a sharp pencil held menacingly close to her body. I screamed at her beautiful, young-ish face, “IF YOU ASK ME ONE. MORE. TIME.” I wish she knew it was just the cost of war. I miss her. My legs are weak. I don’t even think I could get up if I tried. There are so few of us left. God, I can still hear Ethan sobbing.

Monday, 5:34 pm There are only five of us left. Tyler and John have been defending our territory for hours now, and the sound of the ball hitting the gym floor grows louder in the depths of my mind. I try not to think of anything except for how my face feels on this scuffed, icy floor. I still haven’t moved, and I have no plans to, I don’t even think I could if I tried. I wonder what life would be like if my mom never went to work, how it would be if I was home right now with a nice, cold juice box, on top of the world. I cannot let my own sense of self-pity drive me to surrender! Thinking of Tyler—never one

By A shley Verno la

to quit when the chips are down—and John, always eager to follow, I heave myself off of the vulcanized floor. Barely managing a crawl, I work my way to the desk which still bare’s Elyse’s plans.

Could it really be so simple? Rising to my feet I snatch the Crêpe-like paper. I am triumphant. A tear wells in my eye’s corner. Freedom awaits. I turn the paper over and—it’s a horse. Just a drawing of a horse.

Splayed about once more on the hardwood, I hold back tears and some sniffly-snots. God, I wish my mom would come home from work. The counselors call to Tyler and John. It’s about time for them to get discharged. They’ve fought the good fight and now it is time. But what about my time? I only feel myself falling deeper and deeper into the abyss.

I can hear Julie and Elyse saying goodbye to me as they leave. It plays over again, the taunting tone in their voices. Heh, I got out earlier than you, sucker.

Monday, 6:12 pm The very last counselor has made her way over to me. Her disappointment can be felt from across the room, as can the state of her breath. She shakes my shoulder to make sure that I am conscious, though I feel only the emotional shrapnel in my veins. I’ve been praying for a forever sleep. My comrades have left and I’m all alone. I’m always all alone. I miss their company. I miss the sobbing and the sound of shots fired. I miss Juice Box, the only name by which I now recall the other counselor. Now that I’m so close to the end, I only wish I would have taken a sip of that juice.

I emerge from the darkness, from the abyss of my mind, and raise my head from this frigid floor to face the counselor hovering above me. She doesn’t even try to smile, and in the same tone that I’ve heard every week since school has begun, she asks me, “Are you sure your parents are supposed to pick you up?” The war lives on only in my heart.

What’s the difference between a pizza and a writer?

Growing Up With Parents Who Are

Together

Love Each Other Very

and

Much

By Peter Soucy

March 6, 2034 Did you ever ask yourself: why are mom and dad still together? Why do they continue to love each other and our whole family so much? If you ever asked yourself these questions, you’re not alone. Today, more than 25% of parents are happily married. I used to blame myself for my parents togetherness. I would ask my sister: Are we such good children that we’ve caused our parents to stay together? My older sister would slap me hard and look me dead in the eye: “Don’t you ever repeat that. It is NOT our fault. It’s just something between mom and dad that has made them stay together. Don’t let me ever hear you blaming yourself for their enduring and ultimately perfect love again.”

wanted to say congratulation on you and Susan finally tying the knot after all these years! I know mom and dad would have loved to see this, and I’m sure they’re proud of you up there. Talk Soon! Nicole.

Kristofferson immediately started crying and, true to his nature, crapped himself. “NO!” he thought “First Jimmy’s parents and now mine! When will it end!” Just then, as if by some ironic twist, his dad called him into the kitchen to have a special talk. Kristofferson already knew how this would play out. He’s never shared the dirty details of their conversation, but it’s well-known that Kristofferson now lives in a loving, nurturing family environment. He still dreams of his parents one day separating again.

It was hard for the first couple of years that my parents were together. I mean, they fell in love before I was even born! My whole life they were together and that’s hard on a young kid. For many nights they would keep me awake arguing over who loved the other more—like my sister and I couldn’t hear them!

What were they thinking? Young children shouldn’t be subjected to that, it will only cause them to be as loving and caring when they grow up. I think all that clearly playful fighting is what made me start seeing a therapist in my early teens. I hated when they made us eat meals as a real American family, sitting around the table my grandfather built for them on their wedding night. It’s weird as shit. I just wanted to eat in my room and FaceTime my boyfriend while he watched without blinking like all my friends did!

And then there were holidays and birthdays with together-parents. Picture this: your mom and your dad celebrating holidays and birthdays at the same house, buying you joint gifts carefully chosen with the combined and thus complete knowledge of their child’s interests. Gifts only an unbroken home can bring. The whole time they’re touching each other and kissing each other, telling my sister and I how much they love us. They wink at each other as often as normal people blink. Who wants that shit? My friend Sarah got two of every holiday, AND she got double the presents on Christmas and her Birthday. Her mom got her the “Naked” makeup kit, and her dad got her the “Naked” makeup kit! They had a 30 minute fight over who had to return it and get something else. Sarah said she even saw her mom cry! My dad has never made my mom cry. What a dweeb!

I mean, I guess it is better that my parents got together before I was born—unlike my friend Kristofferson.

When he was 12 he wanted to use the family computer to play online Catan with his friends. What he found open on his computer was his dad’s email, and an open message from his auntie Nicole: Hi Dmitri, I just

My friend Samuel didn’t even see his dad at all for the first sixteen years of his life because, thoughtfully, his dad was in jail. Don’t worry, his dad was only running an underground slave business, so he just got the maximum 20 year prison sentence. (No, really, that’s the maximum sentence for slavery. Look it up.)

16

When his dad did get out, he bought Sam a brand new car to make up for lost years (the prison-based slave economy is surprisingly fruitful). Now Sam and his Dad run a 7-Eleven together. My dad only offered for me to take over his multimillion dollar financial firm.

The gall on that man!

Then there’s my friend Steph. Her dad died 3 years ago and left her all this money. Steph paid off all her college loans, and our high school created a scholarship in honor of her family. Kinda makes your Carnegie Medal of Philanthropy and inclusion in the Forbes 400 list look a little silly, doesn’t it, Dad? Both your parents died in their forties of heart complications and you’re still kicking at 63. Why? When am I gonna have to have my sister and mom murdered so I can inherit your vast fortune?

Well, this underground bunker is getting awfully lonely, I’m almost out of cocaine, and John Goodman is starting to act really strange. I might have to hit him in the neck with a bottle and make my escape. Maybe this time my return will shock my dad into a heart attack. Or, at the very least, an annulment.

*https://www.justice.gov/usao-edpa/pr/brotherssentenced-20-years-running-violent-humantrafficking-enterprise

What to Do When Mom Makes a Shit

Shit Lunch

Figure out where dad lives now Toss back a whole bottle of Elmer’s glue for attention. And a wild ride. Seriously.

Subtly hint to teacher that mom doesn’t love you enough

Change your child custody testimony.

Maybe just eat it? She works two jobs. She weeps for what she can’t give you.

A pizza can support a family of four.

Leave school. Become homeless.

Go on welfare and eat well off the backs of hard-working Americans like your mother.

Why did the limousine driver buy a gun?

E

Healthy Eating With Ben!

at your veggies!” That’s what your parents always say. It’s just so hard, isn’t it?

Parents stink sometimes, but I found a place that sure doesn’t!

Freshens will make making it a nice day easy and fun! And ever so tasty.

I began my flavor adventure by hiking to the student center. There, to the right of the main entrance, like a boy’s only club treehouse of on fleek cuisine (it’s okay, girls can come too!) sat Freshens! I day dreamed of the cool, crispy feel of iceberg lettuce as my fork crunches through it. No teacher was there to stop me! Homework stinks, doesn’t it?

Walking through the café, I found my perfect gal, her cherry tomatoes still not popped (like a good girl!), but with just enough crouton residue to suggest that she was definitely dirty. I stuffed some ranch dressing packets in my pockets for later, because it would be embarrassing to finish so soon after getting acquainted, and went to join my fellow classmates in the line. It moved fast, and soon I was on my way, Naruto running (he’s my favorite cartoon character! Who’s yours?

Be sure to mail us your responses at nonsense@gmail.com) all the way back to my dorm to enjoy my delectable dinner.

I barged into the doors guarding my residence tower, throwing my keycard at the RSR and telling her to swipe that shit. She tried to explain to me that that wasn’t how the doors worked, but I ignored 18

By Ben Fletcher

her and kicked the entry turnstile in, and began wall running to the elevator. Once home with the blinds closed, I sat down on the floor, my little green princess nestled in between my legs and my bare crotch.

“Never fear, daddy’s here” I whispered, licking my two fingers and easing the lid open, presenting my lovely lady in full beauty. I pulled out the ranch dressing, prepping myself for the grand finale, when suddenly the door came flying across the room, narrowly missing my head and knocking down every last FUCKING ONE of my Sword Art Online posters (what posters are on YOUR room, kids?) off the walls, as well as my Fathead of Levar Burton. I spun around, dick and salad still both in hand, to see what had dared interrupted my “silly willy” time, when I saw the darndest thing I have ever seen. Looking at me dead in the eyes was a bright pink fuzz ball of a creature, which looked like a cross between a baby, a gumball and a juggernaut bomber jacket. Come to think of it, it looked kind of like a giant clitoris, because I have seen a clitoris before and, trust me, I know what it looks like.

It blinked twice, staring me down like a giant, fluffy cow. A deafening silence filled the room. I readied my actually hulkingly large and not depressingly mundane penis, in case the Inbred Teletubby decided to charge and I had to defend myself.

The silence continued to deafen.

Suddenly I heard a high pitched and muffled “BOOOOHBAHHHH”

A Freshen’s Review

come from where it looked like it’s mouth should be. My brain began to try to make any logical sense of what it had just heard, when it was cut short as I saw the creature literally launch itself at full speed, directly at my body. “FUCK-CAKES” I shrieked, narrowly dodging the balloon baby from hell, causing it to smash through the window panes and fall 11 stories full of Hofstra Pride straight into the concrete, ending with a loud *POP* as rainbows gushed from the broken sides, complimented with the smell of puppies and Yankee Candle.

I hobbled out of my dorm with my pants still by my ankles to catch the next elevator. I waited, hearing the ding as it arrived. But when the door opened out popped two more of those fuckers, one blue and one yellow. I fell back startled, trying to scoot my bare, sweaty ass away as fast as possible, as the Fucktubbies let out a roaring “BOOOOHHBAHHHHHHHH,” charging me like the first one had. Out of pure instinct, and hand having been on my cock the entire time, I swung my fleshy sword like Zorro, smacking one of them in the head and bludgeoning the other in its fuzzy torso. Both popped much like the first one, leaving me covered in what appeared to be unicorn cum,

se ? Plea n e B ed yy Heyy e us, we ne d se come – Zach an to talk r e Heath

having seen. Ben’s seen a lotta clit, kids. Halfway there, so far so good.

I continued slithering around, making quick, decisive movements through the infinite fuzzy ball pit of torment, until suddenly I heard the snap of a twig under my foot and 200 pairs of big ass Boohbah eyes turned directly at me. A simultaneous “BoohBAAAAAHHHHH” shook the earth and 200 of those fuckers came charging at me. I acted quickly, swinging my miraculously still hard dick a full 360 degrees at a rapid pace, or what some people might call “helicockter”. Boohbahs went flying left and right, exploding on impact. Then I felt a giant fuzzy round object press against my back, as two fluffy hands went up under my armpits and onto the back of my head. It felt like I was being put into a headlock by God’s recently shaven testicle. Head down, arms wailing, I was defenseless. The Boohbah Army came marching toward me, and began to remove the turtleneck that was covering their mouths, revealing nasty pairs of gnashing teeth. Their heads turned downward and I came to the realization that they were suddenly looking at my head…of my donger.

“Wait, what are you doing. No. No DON’T LOOK DOWN THERE,” I screamed as the Boohbah’s moved toward my dick slowly and sinisterly. Then, in a flash, they began to tear my dick clean off, gobbling down the rest of my limbs, there is no god, everyone dies alone. There’s always a healthy option for lunch kids! That’s all for Ben this week! I would rate the cancelled PBS television show Boobahs 4 radishes [note, ad a graphic of 4 out of five radishes]! Stay safe, lovelies!

Why does he need a reason? It’s his second amendment right goddammit!

as I scrambled my way back up on my feet and started sprinting down the stairs.

Each turn was met with a gaggle of Boohbahs, charging head on at my majestic frame as I continued to defend myself with my D-Blade, dick slapping Boohbahs left and right. “How many of these bloated demon fetuses are there” It’s okay to talk to yourselves sometimes, “and where are they all coming from?” I was surprised, boys and girls, that I was able to make it to the courtyard in one piece, but the usually empty and peaceful college courtyard too, was filled with Boohbahs, skipping around and falling over each other like a bunch of drunk toddlers.

Some were hugging, others jumping rope, I swear I saw one huffing glue under a tree. You could feel the love and care in the air. It made me want to vomit. I knew I couldn’t take them all at once, so I would have to use my super silent ninja skills that I sometimes use when I sneak into the laundry room at night and smell people’s underwear (boy or girl, I don’t discriminate).

I began to weave in and out of the Boohbah army, attempting to keep below their gaze. The aroma of cookies and pine needles filled my lungs as I trekked along, clouding my vision as visions of sugarplums danced in my head like I was an extreme virgin. Weird, considering all of the clitorises I just mentioned

What do you call it when Mondos talks shit about you online?

By Solange Luftman

A s m e s o o n r U g e H

This week on Hero’s Among Us, we’ll be spotlighting three Awesome kids in the U.S. that are doing Awesome things! As always, if you know a kid you think should be spotlighted next, write to our magazine! Maybe you can be our next Hero Among Us!

L J

immy Germain, 10, of Hummelstown, Pennsylvania, is a wise lad who understands the complexities of life and death. Jimmy had been taking care of his elderly neighbor Sandra Livton, who was on life support for 2 years. Though she could not talk, Jimmy found a way to communicate with her by blinking. One blink was “yes,” two quick blinks was, “no.” Through their communication Jimmy learned that Sandra was depressed and wanted the torment of merely existing to finally be over. Jimmy has stated that he was “almost positive” that Sandra blinked once when he asked if she wanted to die so, on February 3rd, Jimmy unplugged Sandra. Jimmy is a true Hero Among Us, and like many True Heroes, will be controversially tried as an adult.

20

ittle Suzie Heifer, 11, a Girl Scout from Indiana, is a hero, or shall we say, heroine, among us! During her yearly scout cookie sales, she decided to modernize the age old rite of passage and bring some money into her community!

She did this by running a backdoor discount marijuana business, out of her very own stand! “Buy a quarter, get an extra box of Thin Mints free!”, the fledgling entrepreneur has been heard to shout in front of the Rite Aid. Local teenagers say that Suzie has really helped the community. Bradley Donner, a junior at Washington High said, “Everyone’s so much more, like chill now, ya know?” Jeanine Wilder, a mother of two, agrees. “I don’t feel the urge to yell at my kids so much anymore and PTA meetings are so much more bearable.” America loves a crafty businessman, and we here at Nonsense Kidz love you. Suzie is a primo quality Hero Among Us for helping her community. No shake.

F

or our last (but certainly not least!) Hero Among Us this week, we will spotlight Henry O’Connell of Austin, Texas. Henry wants to be a detective when he grows up, and he’s sure on the right path! In the past month, Henry has spied on different families in his neighborhood and uncovered 3 cheating scandals, hundreds of mosquito murders and more!

Although Henry uses unethical practices to spy on his victims, such as sneaking into homes and installing keylogging software on his subject’s personal phones and computers, Henry is simply in the pursuit of truth, and that’s one thing we LOVE here at Nonsense Kidz! Great job Henry!

An Open Letter

To All The Kids Out There

R

emember that time in Forrest Gump when he pulled down his pants and we finally got to see Tom Hanks’ cherub-like ass? Well do ya? Of course you do, I know that I certainly do!

I miss that. That beautiful feeling of child-like innocence. To be a young carefree boy picnicking in a lush green field with a friend, playing tag on the moist jagged mulch of a playground, or staring up into the clouds and seeing the soft white cushiony buns of a certain simple-minded Alabama boy.

I think you’re a kid as long as you yearn to be an adult, and only when you’re of age and no revelation has come. You look back on those times in youth when you heard the slow strung out tones of “Jen-Kneee” whispered into your ear in a teetering southern drawl. All I hear now as I sleep is my dumb cat snoring as the vastness of the eternal void beckons me.

About four months ago, I was feeling this emptiness and lack of fulfillment in my life, (something that you happy go lucky younglings wouldn’t understand) and it prompted me to try to rekindle that ember of youth burning in me. So I decided to reenact my favorite scene from a certain, notable film, and winner of Best Picture at the 67th Academy awards (I’m not bragging we all know it’s great).

So I took my mother’s 1996 Honda Odyssey out to the old dirt road by my house, got out of the van, threw a my Nike Cortez shoebox filled with

rocks on the gas pedal, and dashed in front of the car to out run it as my Jenny on the cassette tape I made said “Run Forrest Run!” Boy did I run.

Though unlike that stoic, slow-witted paragon of athleticism, I was not fast enough to outrun a car. Just the same as Icarus, I flew too close to the sun and promptly fell beneath the front axle of a sporty yet versatile hunk of metallic defeat.

That’s when I knew I had no chance to get back that spark of youthful whimsy, or use of my left leg. While I do now wear those stylish leg braces that Forrest sports as a boy, I lack the grace and sheer animalistic power to break free of them via running. That’s why I urge you kids, please, hold onto that joy in your heart as long as you can, because once you let it go it’s gone forever. If my life has taught me anything, it’s that only children have the gift of surviving running in front of cars and making their way out unscathed. As I always made my momma say, “Life if like a box of chocolates” and only a huge dick would try and kill a kid with chocolate.

- Quin “Quigley” Asselin

A subtweet

Dear Kids,

Where did the cow go with his friends?

G a me s !

Word Search, page 8

Answers maze, page 8 Lol.

Crossword, page 9

Wow, I can’t believe you had to look these up.

Oh come on it wasn’t that hard.

Connect the Dots, page 14

Choose Your Own Adventure, page 10 Stuck? Well I guess, this page is here to save you from yourself.

Go in this order: 1, 2, 4, 6, 7, 7 again, 3, 9, 0, 1, 134, 2, 16, 5, 8* *Answers may vary

Word Scramble, page 14 1) George Bush 2) Balanced Breakfast 3) Crack Cocaine 4) Snuffy 5) Division of Student Affairs

22

Glad you were smart enough to figure these out without help!

This one was super tricky wasn’t it? It’s a stove.

om’s House

A

There was always that one fucking girl in your class who was OBSESSED with MASH. Girls like that love to try and tell the future. Where were you when I was choosing schools, Shelly? You’d just be sitting there, eating the PB&J your mom packed before she was like, “Let’s play MASH so we can find out how terribly subpar and mediocre all of our futures are going to be!!” in her incredibly squeaky pre-pubescent voice, a voice you couldn’t even say “no” to since you couldn’t even hear afterwards. For those of you who never had to deal with this girl, consider yourselves lucky, but for all you MASH newbies, here’s how you play: draw a swirl and count the rings, that’ll be your number. Then, count to the number moving through every choice (M is 1, A is 2, S is 3, H is 4, etc.) and cross out the choice you get to on the number of rings (if you had 4 rings, you would cross out H.) Keep going until you have one choice per category.

“Ready?????!!!!” she’d say, and damn right, you are. Let’s go.

By Ashley Vernola

Spouse

kids

•

• • • •

• • •

The lady who bags your groceries who always winks at you Your banker at your local Chase bank That weird guy who always orders the same drink as you at Starbucks A friend of a friend

•

• •

• • •

• • •

1 bratty kid 2 ½ bratty kids 3 bratty kids 6 bratty kids because you have nothing left to lose

Pet

Used Car Your mom’s old 2005 Honda Accord A 2004 Toyota Camry already named Cami A 1999 Pontiac Grand-Am that breaks down more often than it is on the road A bike because you’re better than that.

Or you can just stick with that little red wagon, I guess. You like that wagon? Sure, it can hold its fill of snacks but can you take the stares from the punk teens hanging out in front of the CVS that mom says are just “trying you out”? No. It was always the wagon.

ouse

A cat that hates you but not everybody else A Goldfish that dies in three days A rabbit that JUST WON’T DIE A dog with an under bite that some people think is weird but you find endearing

Living location • • • •

Somewhere in Maine – no one lives in Maine Above a 7/11 Convenience Store Under a bridge Surrounded by public schools

The slaughterhouse

M

H

S

, this counts as a house partment You Can’t Afford ure