Assignment 12: Brave Little Toasters--Amir Abou-Jaoude

A few weeks ago, my English folder snapped it two. The folder, made of cardboard, featured an illustration of the Justice League on the front flap. It cost only fifty cents. Its breakdown was gradual. In late September, the edges of the folder began to tear. Then, the pockets became worn. Its spine slowly fell apart, the two parts of the folder separated by an ever increasing rift.

I was partly responsible for its demise. I should have cleaned it out from time to time---I should have removed the packet of timed writings, the endless photocopies, the storyboards for my film class, and my useless notes. Alas, I failed in this task. Every time I opened it and stuffed it full of more papers, I would hear a groan--the pockets of the folder bulging as they couldn't contain the workload. As it became more and more full, it would whisper to me when I opened it. "Amir," it would say as I rifled through the papers, "why are you doing this to me? Why are you doing this to me?" I would ignore its cry, and the folder would be further doomed to misery.

I could see that the folder was making an effort to hold it together, to continue to be used in my day-to-day routine. The five heroes of the Justice League--Superman, Batman, Green Lantern, Wonder Woman, and the Flash--they tried to hold in the stack of papers. I could see a shift in their faces. As each day wore on and as more papers polluted the folder, their smiling expressions turned sour. Superman's brow furrow as he tried to bear the burden of English class, Batman seemed ready to retire, and Wonder Woman glared up at me, echoing the folder's incessant call.

Finally, the fateful day came and the last piece of the folder's spine gave way. Now it was not one folder but two broken halves. The papers had finally outsmarted the folder. The Justice League had failed to complete its mission. It was over. In the aftermath, I finally completed the task of taking the old papers out of the folders. I could hear a faint cry as I did so--"Amir, why didn't you do this when I was still healthy?" I chose not to answer. The papers emptied, I took the broken folder and dumped it into the garbage can. The faces of the Justice League stared up at me.

I replaced that folder with another folder, this one featuring The Avengers. It fulfills the function of the old folder. And yet, sometimes I still hear the voices of the Justice League, calling back to me. The folder is now at the bottom of a distant landfill, languishing below scores of rotten banana peels and broken laptops. Its cry is now too faint for me to hear, but I can still see the disappointed faces, peering up at me.