A. MACDONALD MURPHY SHORT STORY CONTEST

2023 Runner Up

Entropy

Lilly Baumfeld ‘23

Noun

Gradualdeclineintodisorder.

…

It startswithanegg.Well,five eggs. Five eggs thataresupposedtobe six, seven dollars and thirty-seven cents in change, and one extremely convenientlyplacedsewerdrain.Anda sidewalk. More accurately, a crack in the sidewalk. Well, two cracks to be specific, though Sophie would argue thatitisn'tveryimportant(eventhough Aaron would argue thatitis),butthat's really neither herenorthere.Okay,you knowwhat?Itstartswithadog.

…

The most complicated day of Aaron O’Reilly’s life starts at exactly 6:07 in the morning in twenty-seven degree weather, under the comforter that used to be his cousin’s aunt’s brother-in-law’s, with exactly two things out of place. Well, if you want togettechnical, three,butthat’snotthe point.

One: he is wearing his socks. This should not be happening, seeing as Aaron cannot fallasleepifsocksare on his feet, as learned the hard wayon the Thursday before the twenty-seventh of February on the second to last leap year ofhislifetime, but that is a story for another time. More concerning than the Thursday before the twenty-seventh of February on the second to last leap year of his lifetime is the fact that hedoesn'tquite remember putting on socks the night before when he got into bed. Nowthat he thinks of it, he doesn't quite remember falling asleep the night beforeatall.

The second thing thatisoutof place is the egg. Well, eggs plural, to be specific, but it’s really just the one egg at the moment. And, well, technically, the third thing has to do with the second thing, and the third thingisthedog.

Larry the Lord of theLobsters the Third, who is, in fact, the first in his line contrary to popular belief, was the closest thing toacatAaron’sfather could find on the Saturday before Christmas six years ago. (Unimportant but very related: apparently, it is very hard to hide a live animal for more than twelve hours from two of the nosiest sort of homo sapiens, which is to say, children that are just young enough to know that shoelaces should be tied, but not how to tie them, but that’sneitherherenorthere.)

So yes, Larry the Lord of the Lobsters the Third the dogisabigpart of the most complicated day of Aaron O’Reilly’s nine-year-old life, because the not-quite-a-cat that is actually (rather unfortunately) a dog, who just coincidentally also has a nose thatgets into the majority of things it doesn't belong in, has followed his nose and dragged Aaron right along with him. And unfortunately (but rather conveniently), his nose is a problem that was discovered very early on in the life of the unfortunately-not-a-cat-but-the-next -best-thing.

For example, the day before the last Tuesday of November two years ago (which just happened to be Aaron’s seventh birthday), when Larry the Lord of the Lobsters the Third’s nose was the reason the cake was cupcakes, the green frosting was purple, and the rainbow sprinkleswere sunflower shaped. But that’s neither herenorthere.

But the egg. Yes, the eggs plural,becausethoseareimportanttoo.

So to the point: Aaron should have, in fact, gone through all the inconvenient trouble of maybe, just possibly, reading the chapter that detailed what to do when your dog (that is unfortunately not quite a cat) gets into more trouble than you do of The Handbook to Man’s Best Friend that conveniently seemed to also come in the box that Larry the Lord of the Lobsters the Third leapt out of about forty-seven and two-thirds minutes beforehewasactuallysupposedto.

Some things to note at that point in Aaron’s life: inconveniently (and totally related), Aaron could not tieashoelace.Alsoinconveniently(but totally unrelated), he also could not read.

Aaron peeks over the covers and wiggles his toes. Yes, those are definitely socks, and those are also definitely his feet, which somehow is more of a cause for concern than if he hadn’tevenseenanyfeetatall.

This is when he notices the egg.

Well, eggs, to be specific. Six in total, and five whole and undamaged, but therein lies the problem.

Aaron shakes his head, because thisisn’tright.Hecountsthem again, and furrows his brows. There are eggs on his bed,which(contraryto popular belief)isnottheissue,because the issue is actually that only five of themarestillthere.

So in other words: this is bad. This is a disaster in progress, because thereareonlyfiveeggs;becauseoneof them is half gone and leaking as though crying tears of mourning for Aaron himself. No, this is bad bad. Mega bad; disaster of the last Tuesday of 1997 bad, which is to say, category five disaster bad. An asteroid could make impact with Earth two and seven-tenths miles and fourteen feet away, and it would not compare to the disaster of waking up to five eggs instead of six, which is ratherthemost vital part of today. This is a Larry the Lord of the Lobsters the Third kind of bad,whichistosay, catastrophic.

“Mom is gonna kill me!” Aaronshrieks.

(Yes, Larry the Lord of the LobsterstheThirddisaster indeed.)

He kicks off the covers and tumbles to the floor, cradling the salvageable batch of five insteadofsix eggs in his arms, as Larry the lord of the Lobsters the Third (who is definitely not a cat) licks his face with all the supportive ignorance of a dog who has just caused the apocalypse by eatingthesixthegg.

“Oh, Larry the Lord of the Lobsters the Third, what have you done?” Aaron says in horror, the remnants of this atrocity drip from the decidedly-not-a-cat’s mouth, and Aaron wishes he could drip down into the rug just the same as the yolk on Larry the Lord of the Lobsters the Third’schinstainsthecarpet.

Aaron puts his head in his hands and mourns the loss of his egg.

The half that Larry the Lord of the Lobster the Third has spared stares up at him with a gaping hole that isn’t quite big enough to hold the enormity of his guilt at this situation, butretains thesentimentallthesame.

This is very much bad indeed. He drops his hands in despair. What is hesupposedtodonow?

“Oh, Larry the Lord of the Lobsters the Third, I told youto watch the eggs, not eat them!” he groans. Larry the Lord of the Lobsters the Third wags his tail in excitement. Aaronshakeshisheadingrief,because he’sreally,trulyscrewedupthistime.

Larry the Lord of theLobsters the Third nudges Aaron with his uniquely troublesome nose, and Aaron reluctantly straightens up. Larry the Lord of the Lobsters the Thirdisright; there is only one thing left to do now. Unfortunately.

Aaronsetshisjaw;heneedsto consult his twin for this. Sophie O’Reilly willnodoubthavetheperfect solutiontothiscalamitousproblem.

Aaron looks to the twin bed across the room from his own and gulps, because this is just the first adversity to endure in what is to be a long, herculean journey. They always say the first step is the hardest, but Aaron believes that this certain task mightjustbeimpossible.

Nobody wakes Sophie O’Reilly, otherwise they risk a repeat of the seventh Sunday of their sixth year alive, and that is something no one wantstorepeat.Noteventhedog.

So when consumed by memories of the seventh Sunday of their sixth year alive, Aaron hesitates; but he looks down at his five-instead-of-six carton of eggs, and decides the onus misfortune of possibly facing the histrionic tendencies of his sister is far outweighed by the five eggs in his hands. In other words: this must be done.

And anyways, as the saying goes: with five instead of six eggs comes a great responsibility, or somethinglikethat.

Saturday Night

Victoria Liu ‘24