My Cardboard Balcony

I Made Rings by Belinda Roddie I made rings out of tiny forks, the kind you'd use for appetizers, like olives, at dinner parties. I would slowly wind and bend them 'round thumbs and fingers. Cursive I'd etch into the metal, and I'd hot glue beads and cheap gemstones to add a flare to the stainless steel. At first, no one bought the things I peddled at the Old Town Square, but one day, a young girl came up to me and asked to try on one utensil ring, and as I coiled it against her skin, she lit up and paid double for the darn thing. Who knows if she'll start the trend one fall day - I'm bending forks forever, anyway.

"Stencils again?" whined Carlos. "When can we do something different in art class for a change?" "When Mister Reinhart gets his head out of his butt and buys some paintbrushes and stuff, I guess," his friend Lisa replied as she grabbed an Elvis portrait-shaped stencil from the box. From the teacher's desk, they could hear a harsh, judgmental snort. "Think he heard you?" Lisa shrugged. "He can hear. He just doesn't listen."