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Grade
10

            Arthur A. Arthurson woke up in his cozy room, and he lifted the heavy covers off his

 

body. Outside it was a cold winter day. He took a look out the window, and saw the Christmas

 

decorations in the neighborhood. Then he looked at the scattered decorations inside his own

 

house.

 

            He walked over to his calendar, and filled to the brim with excitement, read the date

 

out loud.

 

            “January 3! Yes! Finally!” Arthur started dancing around. “I’ve waited all season for

 

this.”  He walked over to a box sitting in the middle of his room, and opened it. “All these

 

damned fruitcakes, I hope you guys like being thrown into a giant pit of fire.” He said, staring at

 

the box full of fruitcakes.

 

            January 3rd, also known as National Fruitcake Toss Day, was Arthur’s favorite day.  He

 

hated everything about the season that came before. Every December, he contemplated killing

 

himself so he wouldn’t have to listen to Christmas music, or watch Christmas movies and

 

specials, and worst of all, receiving those dreaded, horrid smelling, ugly, and disgusting

 

fruitcakes.

 

Fruitcakes were the bane of Arthur’s existence, but all he could do every season was

 

pretend he actually liked Christmas, and those freak of nature cakes. He hated everything about

 

those cakes. The taste made him want to vomit, even just a piece falling on his tongue would

 

invoke that feeling, the smell invaded his nose, and made him feel violated, and the sight of a

 

fruitcake would make him boil with anger.

 

            As a child, Arthur was always forced to eat the dreaded food by his family, a family of

 

fruitcake fanatics, and he would feign liking it, because otherwise his family would punish him,

 

due to their almost cult-like devotion to fruitcake, but deep down, he hated every second of this.

 

When he looks back on those days, he considers it abuse.

 

            His worst memory from childhood was one fateful Christmas morning. His mother had

 

devoted her entire night to baking a plethora of fruitcakes. He awoke to the smell of it, and he

 

could feel his stomach churning already. He walked downstairs, and saw piles of fruitcakes

 

sitting there. There were no presents under the tree, instead there were only fruitcakes. It was

 

then that he realized how his day would be spent. All day, for every snack and meal, he had to

 

eat fruitcakes. Instead of drinking eggnog, his mother made fruitcake smoothies, and instead of

 

toys, he was forced to play with fruitcakes.

 

When he moved away for college, his family would send him a box of fruitcake every

 

year, and he would shove it into the back of his closet, until the smell would seep into his dorm

 

room. When this would happen, he would gather his friends, go to the woods, and make a

 

bonfire with the rotten fruitcake. Around the bonfire, they would play guitar and sing.

 

            Then, one fateful day, Arthur was drunk and searching Google for random things. He had

 

seen it was Lost Sock Memorial Day. Because he was drunk, he held a makeshift memorial for

 

all the socks he had lost over the years. He took a small shoebox, wrote Viking Longboat on it,

 

and lit it on fire in his yard. Promptly after, he fell asleep next to the fire, and it died out when

 

the sprinklers went off.

 

In the morning, he remembered what he did, and the decided it would be funny to look at

 

all the other national holidays. That’s when he found it: National Fruitcake Toss Day. He was

 

ecstatic when he found out that enough people hated fruitcake, and now there was a national

 

holiday devoted to them.

 

            On the first year after he discovered this, he threw the whole box off a bridge, but he

 

threw it into the freeway, so he ran away. The next year, he threw it off a bridge in the park, and

 

when fruitcakes rained down, it fell on a few people. Most of them were knocked out, and one

 

was left with a concussion. After he saw the cakes hit people, once again he ran away. On the

 

third year, he threw off a bridge. This year, the snow faded early, and the river was running, but

 

it was still extremely cold. Two lovers were rowing their boat gently down the stream, and the

 

fruitcakes bombarded the vessel. One broke a hole into the bottom of the boat, and it sank,

 

forcing the lovers to swim in the nearly ice cold water.

           

            Despite almost getting in trouble every year, Arthur still loved the holiday. “At least I’m

 

not the only one suffering from fruitcake related troubles.” He would think to himself as he ran

 

away, and he was filled with mischievous glee.

 

            Eventually, Arthur found a group of people that held a giant bonfire every year for that

 

day, and they would all throw their fruitcakes into the fire, and then join hands in prayer, as they

 

sacrificed the fruitcakes to the Dark Lord.

 

This year it would be held at 12 P.M. sharp, and he checked the clock to see the time.

 

            “9 A.M., I think I have time to stop at the bank.” He said to himself. This year he had

 

gotten a few checks for Christmas, and he would have to pass by the bank on his way to the

 

bonfire anyway, so it wouldn’t hurt if he stopped there for a few minutes.

 

            Arthur put on his winter clothing, and trudged out to his lawn.

 

            “Why does everyone still have their Christmas decorations up? This is absurd! It’s

 

January damn it!” He started walking down the sidewalk. “What a horrible holiday. Hey, Bob!”

 

he yelled to his neighbor, who had gone outside to gather his newspaper. Arthur could see that

 

Bob had a piece of fruitcake in his hand, and was eating it.

 

            “Morning, Arthur!” Bob yelled back, with his mouth full of fruitcake.

 

            “Stop supporting that consumerist devil holiday! You’re just feeding the corporations!”

 

            “The kids are fine, thanks.” Bob said, not listening to his neighbor.

 

            “I hope you like the corporations controlling you!” Arthur said, and kept walking,

 

carrying a box full of fruitcakes.

 

            Before Arthur arrived at the bank, a windowless van rolled up. A group of four men with

 

masks and guns piled out, and ran into the bank.

 

            “This is a hold up! No one do anything stupid, and we’ll be out of your hair in no time!”

 

A tall man, with a gruff voice yelled, and some people started screaming. He fired off some

 

rounds, and everyone shut up.

 

Some crooks came around with a bag and started collecting people’s wallets, and the rest

 

went up to the bank tellers.

 

            “Where’s the fucking safe?!” A tall man yelled to a teller, and the teller led him and

 

one more crook, a short and stocky man, to the safe, while the others collected wallets, or money

 

from the tellers.

 

            “Can you crack this Joe?” The tall man asked his colleague.

 

            “I don’t know Rick, I uh, I probably can. This is my first time.”

 

            “I told you to call me boss!” Rick yelled at Joe.

 

            “Oh uh, sorry, forgot.”

 

“As for cracking the safe, take it slow, show that you care.”

 

            “What?”

 

            “Don’t be afraid to make it feel good, but don’t get attached.” Rick said, getting off topic.

 

            “It’s a safe, what are you talking about?”  

 

            “Just crack it.” Rick said, and he went back to the lobby. He saw someone walk

 

into the bank, blissfully oblivious to the robbery.

 

            “Hey, no line! Sweet.” Arthur wasn’t looking at the bank robbers, he was too entranced

 

in joy to notice, and walked up to the counter. He saw all the tellers curled up in a corner. Then

 

he looked at everyone on the floor, and the masked men with guns. “Wait, is this place getting

 

robbed!?” He realized.

 

            “Good job Sherlock!” Rick  said. “Now get on the floor and give us your wallet.”

 

The crook aimed his gun at Arthur, and Arthur complied.

 

            “What’s in the box?”

 

            “F-fruitcakes.”

 

            “Why’d you bring fruitcakes to the bank?” One crook looked at him. “You can’t deposit

 

food into a bank.”

 

            “I know. I-I was going to burn them.”

 

            “Why would you waste perfectly good food?” Rick asked. “That’s just evil, we’re

 

bank robbers and we wouldn’t do that.”

 

            “Have you ever eaten a fruitcake?” Arthur looked at the masked men.

 

            “Duh, I don’t live under a rock.”

 

            “Do you like it?”

 

            “Yeah, I like it.” Rick opened the box, and saw that Arthur was telling the truth.

 

“What’s your name?” Rick asked.

 

            “Arthur Arturo Arthurson.”

            “Well triple A, why not give these perfectly good fruitcakes to some homeless people or

 

something?” Rick asked, and Arthur stood up.

 

            “No man should have to eat fruitcake. No one deserves that torture, and today is National

 

Fruitcake Toss Day. I live for this day, because today is the day where humanity joins together to

 

overcome the evil bestowed upon us by the devil.” Arthur started giving a speech. “After Adam

 

and Eve fell from Eden, the devil came and gave them fruitcake. He saw that it was bad, and was

 

pleased.”

 

“I’m out of here, you’re batshit.” Rick said, and a slightly overweight robber came

 

over to him.

 

            “Hey man, tell me more.” The crook told Arthur.

 

“With pleasure! He convinced Adam and Eve that they must feed it to their children, but

 

they only fed it to Cain. That was why Cain got so jealous, and killed his brother. Lucifer came

 

back up at that moment, and replaced the rock with a spoiled fruitcake. Do you know what

 

Stalin’s favorite food was?”

 

            “Pierogi?” The crook asked.

           

“Nope.”

 

            “Borscht?”

 

            “Nope. Try again.”

 

            “Vodka!” The crook said again.

 

            “NO! Fruitcake. The crusades started because the leader of the Caliphate sent the Pope a

 

fruitcake. The pope was so enraged that he sent a whole army down to the Middle East. Every

 

problem in history was caused by fruitcake, and on this day, we free ourselves, even if only

 

temporarily, from the tyranny of it.” Arthur sat back down on the floor.

 

            “Hey! Get away from him. He’s an absolute wackjob.” Rick looked at the robber,

 

and then yelled at Arthur “You have no concept of reality at all.” He walked away from Arthur,

 

and went to check on his colleague next to the safe.

 

            “How’s it coming along, Joe?”

 

            “Pretty good Boss, I think I only need like uh, another hour. Maybe two.”

 

            “An hour!?”

            “Yeah, uh, this is a pretty tough safe. It’s like uh,

 

            “There’s some weirdo that hates fruitcake. He gave a whole speech, I think he was

 

talking to Lester when I left.”

 

            “How can someone hate fru-” Joe was interrupted by a high pitched ringing.

 

            “Someone hit the alarm!” Rick said, and he ran upstairs. There was a dead teller

 

sitting in the corner, as well as a tall, and muscular crook whose gun was still smoking.

 

            “La idiota hit the alarm, I couldn’t get her in time. boss-man.”

 

            “Goddamit Alejandro! Our first bank robbery and you’ve already killed someone!”

 

            “It’s not my faut, boss-man!” Alejandro said.

 

            “Damn it all! Barricade the doors! Try to find a place we can escape from!” Rick ran to

 

lock the doors, and Alejandro and another crook moved potted plants in front of it. Joe came out

 

from the safe area.

 

            “Hey boss, uh, this safe is sort of uncrackable.”

 

            “Joe, come here.” Rick motioned Joe over to him.

 

            “Yeah boss?”

 

            “How hard am I on you?”

 

            “Not that hard at all.” Joe said.

 

            “I’m going to be less strict for a second, you can call me Rick.” Rick said.

 

            “Alright, Rick.”          

 

            “Now Joe, I don’t press you hard, I think we’re good friends, but we have a bank full of

 

hostages, one of them is a complete maniac, the cops are outside, probably trying to make their

 

way in,” Rick said calmly, and then he burst “and we still don’t have damn money! Get your

 

dumb-ass back in there, and try to find a way into that damn safe! How can a first robbery go so

 

wrong!”

 

            “Yes sir.” Joe was scared, and he ran back downstairs. Rick started walking around, and

 

he passed by Arthur.

 

            “You should be nicer to your lackeys.” Arthur said, holding his box of fruitcakes.

 

            “What?” Rick turned to him.

 

            “You should be nicer to them. It’s not polite.”

 

            “Well thanks for the advice, Sherlock. Got any more?”

 

            “Robbing banks isn’t good; you should make an honest living.” Arthur said.

 

            “As if I’m going to take advice from a guy who hates fruitcake like it killed his family?”

 

            “He has a point, you’re not very nice.” one hostage said.

 

            “Thank you, random hostage. I never would have figured that out.” Rick said, and the

 

rest of the hostages started murmuring.

 

            “Hey boss-man, we found an escape route.” Alejandro came over to him.  

 

            “That’s fine and dandy, Alejandro, but we still don’t have the money, and now this loon

 

is causing a ruckus.”

 

            “Want me to put him down, boss-man?” Alejandro raised his gun.

 

            “I’m starting to consider it.” Rick said, and Joe came up from the vault.

 

            “Boss, it’s uh, taking too long, we’ve got the money from the uh, tellers, and people’s

 

wallets. If we escape, we can probably hit up another bank soon. Maybe.”

 

            “Ugh.” Rick contemplated to himself. The police were outside, and it was only a matter

 

of time before they would get in, and there was obviously no way they were getting into the safe

 

if they couldn’t blow it up. And then there was Arthur. Arthur hadn’t said a lot, but what he had

 

said was enough to get under Rick’s skin. “Alright, get whatever else you can, and then we

 

leave.” The crooks went around, seeing if anyone had phones or watches that they could take.

 

            Arthur watched, and he realized that these rude, fruitcake loving criminals would get

 

away, he had to stop him.

 

            “These rude, fruitcake loving criminals will get away, I have to stop them.” He said to

 

himself, and he reached into the box of fruitcakes. There were at least ten fruitcakes in there, and

 

he pulled one out. It felt as hard as a rock, and he decided it was perfect.

 

            “Hey, you, Jose, right?”

 

            “Joe, my name is Joe.”

 

            “Come over here. I’ve got a, uh, um, a million billion dollars for you.” Arthur said, and

 

Joe came over. That’s when Arthur hit Joe over the head with the fruitcake. Joe was down on the

 

floor, and with the fury of one thousand lions, Arthur kept beating Joe with the fruitcake, until it

 

broke. Joe was down for the count, and Arthur took another fruitcake out of the box. The crook

 

with whom Arthur discussed fruitcake looked over at Arthur, and aimed his gun, and Arthur

 

threw his fruitcake, and it hit the gun the crook was holding, knocking it out of his hands. When

 

the crook tried to pick up the gun, Arthur threw another fruitcake, and it hit the crook on the

 

head. Arthur grabbed the box, and found Alejandro. He started throwing fruitcakes while

 

Alejandro wasn’t looking, and then left him there.

 

Then he found Rick, who was waiting for his crew to show up.

 

“What do you want now?” Rick asked, and looked over Arthur’s shoulder.

 

“I want justice, and to go toss my fruitcakes into a fire.”

           

            “You can leave once we’re gone. Where is everyone?”

 

            “Dead.” Arthur said, and he looked into Rick’s eyes.

           

            “What the hell?! How?!”  Rick asked, and shock spread on his face.

           

            “Well, I mean they might be; I didn’t really bother checking if they were breathing, I just

 

beat them up with fruitcakes.”

 

            “What is wrong with you? Jesus Christ, how did you do that?”

 

            “I threw them, I felt like Captain America.” Arthur said, and Rick raised his gun at

 

Arthur.

 

            “Alright, well, I’m going to leave, if you try anything funny, I will shoot you.” Rick

 

started backing away, and once he turned around, Arthur picked up a fruitcake, and threw it at

 

Rick. The cake hit Rick in the back of the head, and it sent him flying forward. Arthur then

 

grabbed his ankles, and dragged him back into the lobby. He then went and let the police in.

 

            Arthur didn’t want to stick around after saving the bank, he was never one for public’s

 

 

attention, and he just wanted to burn his fruitcakes, and that he did.

State
Florida
Zip Code
33138