Weird Allergy
by Joseph
Szalinski
Hives began to
consume the body of Clarice, her typically clear
skin had become infested with red, itchy
splotches. Her teacher kept talking, on and on.
No matter how much she tried to distract herself
with memories and entertaining thoughts, her
subconscious wouldn’t let her forget that
name: James K. Polk.
Oh, what
poison it was for her! She detested that name
more than anything else. Not to mention that it
was an affliction which was unknown and
unaccepted. Her friends thought she was a lunatic,
her parents thought she was on drugs, and her
hope was dwindling.
It began,
innocently enough, when she was a young girl. Her
parents had tasked her with remembering and
reciting the presidents, in order. She breezed
through the first few with relative ease. That is,
until she got to Polk. “Please,” she’d
beg, “let me name the others.”
But her
parents would not let her continue until they
heard the name, James K. Polk.
Her tongue
would swell, her body would start shaking, and
she would even lose consciousness. “She’s
just stupid, or stubborn,” her parents would
argue.
Clarice was
sent to a speech therapist, but to no avail. The
problem persisted. Subsequently, she was forced
to seek further help, with similar results. Her
parents were puzzled but ultimately out of
options. With little left to do, they gave up and
things got better for a while. Every now and
again, in some history class, with the mention of
his name, either verbally or in writing, she
would begin to feel uneasy. Pictures of the man
made her dizzy, while simply studying his
accomplishments made her vomit.
Pencils stuck
to her sweaty palms as she anxiously waited for
class to finish. Her fidgety feet began to treat
the floor as a percussive instrument of torture,
annoying everyone within earshot. “Clarice,”
Ms. Whittingstone chimed, “since you seemed
to be so enthralled by the material, why don’t
I assign your project first? I’ll have you
give a presentation on James K. Polk, how does
that sound?”
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