Two Search-Bars Walk Into A Bar

SearchBartender: What can I fix for you two?

Jenny’sSearchBar: Can I search a cocktail menu?

Search-Bartender: Certainly. There are 26 million results for ‘cocktail menu,’ including: ‘Top Ten Cocktail Menus in New York;’ ‘How to Order the Perfect Cocktail for You;’ ‘Morton’s Steakhouse Bar Bites;’ and ‘Do Roosters Have Tails?’ But here’s our drink-list.

Jenny’sSearchBar: Thanks! Ken’sSB, what’re you feeling?

Ken’sSearchBar: Lucky! (Pause for laughter). But actually, I think I’ll get a Negroni: one part gin, one part vermouth rosso, one part Campari, garnish apérìrif with orange peel.

Jenny’sSearchBar: Oh, yum! Jenny just turned me onto ordering a Dealer’s Choice: style of poker where each player may deal a different variant. So, I think I want something with Vodka: distilled beverage composed of water and ethanol; most popular spirit in the US for a reason that’s Fruity: of, resembling, or containing fruit.

SearchBartender: I know just the thing.

Ken’sSearchBar: So, how’s Jenny?

Jenny’sSearchBar: Up to her usual antics! Stayed up pretty late last night doing some Cute Jumpsuits and Sexy Rompers shopping.

Ken’sSearchBar: Any Luck: success or failure apparently brought by chance rather than through one’s own actions; “it was just luck that the first kick went in”?

Jenny’sSearchBar: I mean, what do you think? Lost At Sea Romper, Size M, $45.00 plus Shipping and Handling, Tracking Number IZ00034267895477 will arrive to AutoFillJenny’sOffice in 6-8 Business Days: official working days of the week.

Ken’sSearchBar: Geez, she really has an addiction: condition that results when a person ingests a substance (e.g., alcohol, cocaine, nicotine) or engages in an activity (e.g., gambling, sex, shopping) that can be pleasurable but the continued use/act of which becomes compulsive and interferes with ordinary life responsibilities, such as work,…

Jenny’sSearchBar: I think she’s just trying to get over Justin.

Ken’sSearchBar: Still?!

Jenny’sSearchBar: Oh, totally. The other day we searched Lose Five Pounds in Week: If you want to lose weight faster, you’ll need to eat less and exercise more, How To Be Single: Official Trailer – Official Warner Bros. UK… (2016) – IMDb, Microwave Cake: Microwave Mug Cakes For Grown-Ups, and Death By Expired Milk: Six die after drinking sour milk all between 12:06 A.M. and 1:52 A.M.

Ken’sSearchBar: Whoa, that’s heavy: expression used frequently by Marty McFly to mean a situation that was very ponderous or serious.

Jenny’sSearchBar: Tell me about it.

SearchBartender: Here ya go, Gang: group of recurrently associating individuals or close friends or family with identifiable leadership and internal organization; Gangs in America; Gangrene; Gangnam Style; Ganglion Cyst.

Jenny’sSearchBar: Thanks! So, how’s Ken: one’s range of knowledge or sight; metrosexual toy doll introduced by Mattel, Inc. in 1961?

Ken’sSearchBar: Such an enigma. He had us up searching Fixies For Sale: Price Up to $250, Brands All, Type Cyclocross, Department Boys, Mens, Does Frozen Pizza Go Bad: Five frozen foods you shouldn’t eat past their expiration…; A five year old pizza, is it still okay?-General Discussion, and Anna Carinina Cliff Notes: did you mean Anna Karenina CliffsNotes? until nearly 3:00 A.M. I’m exhausted.

Jenny’sSearchBar: Sheesh!: used to express disbelief or exasperation; ‘sheesh’ is what a person would say if they invited ten people to a dinner party and only two people showed up.

Ken’sSearchBar: You’re telling me: phrase of tell! I worry about him sometimes. Like does he think it’s normal for people his age to search Amount of Days In A Year: Julien Calendar: 365, 366 for Leap Years, Days Without Food Survive: The duration of survival without food is greatly influenced by factors such … India’s independence, survived 21 days of total starvation while only…, and Albino Animals Pictures? I don’t mean to judge him – all folks are entitled to their own searches – but I’m only 2.5 years old and I know better than that.

Jenny’sSearchBar: You better be careful there, Ken’sSB. You don’t want him to go on Private Search Mode: You will only be in incognito mode when you use the incognito window again like he did six months ago.

Ken’sSearchBar: I know, I know. You’re right. Say, maybe he and Jenny should get together.

Jenny’sSearchBar: That could be fun! I’d love to see those searches. Maybe I’ll put Ken’s LinkedIn-photo in an ad for Match.com when Jenny is taking Buzzfeed quizzes between 2:00 PM and 8:30 PM today.

Ken’sSearchBar: That’s genius! I’ll bring Jenny up on Ken’s Tinder, Bumble, and Hinge so he knows she’s legit: legal, conforming to the rules.

Jenny’sSearchBar: That’s perfect.

SearchBartender: Hey lovebirds: one of nine species of the genus Agapornis, I gotta start closing, so holler if you need anything.

Ken’sSearchBar: Oh, thanks man: a male human. We can go ahead and settle up. Do you take eChecks?

SearchBartender: Normally, yes, but tonight our system keeps buffering – our RoutingConnection went home early so our Encoder and ServiceProvider are experiencing technical difficulties.

Jenny’sSearchBar: Don’t worry Ken’sSB! I’ll treat. I owe you from last time, plus Jenny’s Dad just slipped her a few Bitcoins: Overstock.com, now accepting Bitcoins.

Ken’sSearchBar: Hey, wanna go check out that new SearchEngine down in Chrome? I think Anna’sWikiHow and Scott’sBing are there.

Jenny’sSearchBar: Oh, I heard that place was kind of janky: inferior quality; “We tried to pick up these honeys at the DQ, but they just wouldn’t have it ‘cuz I was driving my dad’s janky Hyundai”.

Ken’sSearchBar: Who’d you ask?

Jenny’sSearchBar: … John’sAskJeeves.

Ken’sSearchBar: Ugh, what does he know? He’s ancient.

By: Sophie Korchek

Go Find Her

I am just a place. Chile is family but I'm just a place. Don’t look at G-d, He is by your side. You're looking at Him but you need to be looking at her. Yes, her. The little girl you abandoned before she could pee alone.

You came to me and I gave you a dream, but what did you achieve, Maya? Your mother is dying and now you’re saying you need to go to India. You’re not going to find anything in India. Not if you keep running away from what is already yours. Your mom took care of everything while you were gone, but now, she's dying, Maya. She is dying and she wants to see you but she can’t wait forever.

Don’t look at G-d, look at her. Do you realize what she’s done for you so that you could be with me? Can you look into her eyes after looking away for so long?

Your mom is more with G-d than she is with you. Your mom never needed you, Maya. It’s too late for that but it's not too late to say goodbye and send her off in peace. She’s been waiting for a long time but she can’t wait much longer.

Look at your daughter. There is nothing in India and I'm not going anywhere. We’re done here, there’s nothing happening anymore. I'm just a place and places don’t die but people do, Maya. You can find India in Chile. Go find her.

By: Laura Moreno Saraga

A Thin Ray Of Sunshine

Amelia woke up as the strong smell of pine trees and dirt became pungent in her nostrils. Slowly, she became aware she was starving and freezing, despite the long wool socks on her feet.The snow was falling thick covering the pine trees with white dust, all the while Amelia was in her comfortable bed, thick blanket on top. She stayed still, trying to recall her dream, but her growling stomach insistently reminded her it was hungry. It was still early, and only a thin ray on sunshine covered the isolated, agricultural village.

This is definitely the worst winter I’ve had, she thought, as she pushed the blanket away, shivering. 

It didn’t look good for anyone. The snow and ice would not begin to melt for another two months. Hunting was no longer an option, never mind the growing of crops. People were struggling and, in worst cases, fleeing to nearby towns. Amelia was starving and with her the whole village.

This morning in particular, Amelia was trying to stay positive, even though she knew it was part of her body’s automatic self defense mechanism of survival. She was terrified of dying and lately had been thinking way too much about death and loss of consciousness.

A loud banging on the door interrupted Amelia’s thoughts. Her father opened the door babbling about other village men practicing cannibalism out of desperation. Some cut flesh from other people’s cheeks and facial muscles, while others removed the tongue with a knife while others extracted the brain through a hole in the skull. 

Hunger brings the worst out of people. You need to be extra careful, he said as he closed the door.

After hearing this, she decided to go on an expedition to the nearby forest to look for something to eat. Maybe I'll get lucky, she hoped. She walked for hours until she saw a light. The light led to a wooden cabin with smoke coming out of its chimney. The door was slightly opened and Amelia entered without any hesitation whatsoever.

A tall and skinny old man with a long, black cloak was standing in the room with his back to her. He chose to completely ignore her, though it was clear he’d seen her standing there, frozen. He began gathering all sorts of spices like a wizard preparing the ingredients to make a potion.

The man suddenly turned towards Amelia and looked at her straight with his big brown eyes and said, I don’t think eating me is a good idea. 

She was trembling with fear and amazement for she had already considered different ways to kill this man who was looking so appetizing. He had read her mind. Then, in a blink of an eye she woke up in her comfortable bed. It was a sunny day in New York City and her mom was screaming breakfast is ready!  

By: Susana Toro

Dear Grandma Hilda

I still remember your honey apple pie like it was yesterday, Grandma Hilda, the one that smelled like cinnamon and cream. You refused to give me the recipe, though I was old enough to bake and you were old enough for a discount at the movie theater.

You picked me up in your old pink 1953 Corvette, the only one I ever knew. On sunny days, the top was always down, our wild hair flying behind us. Yours was white and spare, mine was dirty blond and wavy. You said the best movies only came out when summer was gone. It was the world’s way of telling us to play outside while we still could. On nice days we went to the Boston Common, where you always let me eat as many popsicles as my age. We sat on the blue blanket you made me before I moved away and we watched the dogs and the ducks and the college kids getting stoned.

I regretted growing older because I never got to spend as much time with you as before. Weekends were for friends, and daddy sold your pink Corvette once your cataracts made you a safety hazard on the road.

Still, through winter storms and blizzards we stayed together in your living room and kept the fireplace lit from sunrise to sunset. We knitted blankets so long we could both snuggle our feet inside. Mine were always slightly crooked, never perfect like yours.

But even our winters got divided once I graduated and went off to school in D.C. Each month, you’d send me a honey apple pie in the mail, saran wrapped so delicately that not a single inch was out of place when I opened it. That pie made me feel close to you, even though we were far apart.

One month I didn’t get your pie in the mail and that’s when I asked you for the recipe again. You said you would send me pie any time I needed it, you said you would make it for me whenever I wanted. You sounded tired that day, but I asked you for pie and five days later it came, like you said.  

That honey apple pie was extra sweet, a little better than the rest. It tasted heavenly; I remember keeping it in my dorm room longer than I kept the other ones, eating a tiny slice each night right before going to bed.

When the pie was finally gone, I felt my childhood had withered away, gone to where I could no longer taste it.

 That was the last honey apple pie you ever baked for me, Grandma Hilda. You could have given me the recipe, but I doubt it would have tasted the same.

By: Laura Moreno Saraga