I'm writing this postcard as a sort-of apology. I'd rather not do it in person, in case you're wearing that unicorn sweater and someone sees us together. Sorry, but that's the truth. I find that most people appreciate my honesty. I'm a real straight shooter, you know.
Remember that time, not long before I ditched you, when you said I was psychotically obsessed with the environment? And, I tackled you and tried to stuff that peanut butter log down your throat? And, Maggie's dad had to pull me off you? And, your mom called my dad and it turned into a big thing? Well, I wanted to let you know I'm willing to take some responsibility for that incident. I mean, you pretty much deserved it and everything, but in a way you were right. Sometimes I do take my environmental causes too far. Sometimes I do get a little "psychotic". And, no matter how often it all comes back to bite me in the a$$ I never learn my lesson. Until now.
Love and Sunshine,
Dawn
P.S. This doesn't mean we're friends again. Unless you've stopped wearing that unicorn sweater.
Suzanne, Johanna, Vlad, and I had been planning the Big Night for days. Everything was set. We'd considered every angle, every possible hitch. We were ready. Nothing could go wrong.
Finally, the day arrived for all of Amsterdam to recognize the deceit and destruction of the fast food industry.
I knew our meticulous planning would pay off. I grinned to myself as I dressed Monday evening. I was bursting with excitement. I, Dawn Read Schafer, was about to make history. I was going to single-handedly (well, almost) bring down the chain of murder that is McDonald's. I couldn't wait.
Suzanne instructed us to wear dark clothing. I'd chosen an outfit that was both functional and symbolic. I wore black stirrup leggings and black Reebok sneakers with a black and navy t-shirt. What's so special about that? Well, the front of the t-shirt, that's what. It had the face of a wolf and a profile of an American Indian. Above them were the words: Born To Roam. I bought it at Whiskey Pete's Hotel and Casino on the Nevada border. It spoke to me then and continued to speak to me that night at Verbruggenhuis. I'm a huge championer of the rights of wolves and American Indians. I think I'm like one-thirty-second Osage or something. That night, I could definitely feel some red man running through my veins.
I tied my hair back with a thick black ribbon and snapped my new navy blue canvas fanny pack around my waist. Then, I was on my way.
Even though it was nearly eight, it was still light out. I suspected that had something to do with the hole in the ozone layer. I made a mental note to bring that up to Suzanne. As I was leaving Verbruggenhuis, I noticed an old pickup truck sputtering down the street. Tons of black smoke billowed out the exhaust pipe. I was appalled and disgusted. The worst part was the truck bed was filled with fat, fluffy sheep. No doubt being lead to slaughter. I considered throwing myself in the path of the truck in protest of the cruel treatment of hoofed animals. Before I could act the truck pulled to a stop right in front of Verbruggenhuis. The two grizzled old men in the front seat stared at me blankly. I opened my mouth to give them a piece of my mind when a raven-tressed head popped up between the many fluffy sheep butts.
"Thanks for the ride, Johan, Fritz," yelled Claudia, hoisting a leg over the wood railing of the truck. She dropped a couple pails over the side along with the biggest chocolate bar I'd ever seen in my life. A plastic wrapped cavity, if you ask me. "See ya around, Sheepies," shouted Claudia, tumbling over the side of the truck.
Huh. I thought I hadn't seen her around for a couple days.
Resisting the urge to throw all her disgusting processed sugar in the canal (although that would be littering) and wanting to avoid having to actually speak to Claudia, I hurried off to catch the tram. We were gathering at Johanna's apartment, as usual. Mainly because her grandparents were old and didn't ask questions like Suzanne's parents did. That, and we needed to steal their car.
Of course, none of us had a license. Suzanne, Johanna, and I were too young and Vlad said something about expired works permits and possible extradition. I don't know what that had to do with driving a car, but whatever. Live and let live, I say. Besides, just because he didn't actually have a license didn't mean Vlad couldn't drivethe car. We neededthe car to successfully execute our plan. We couldn't carry all that - well, you'll see - on bicycles.
I reached Johanna's apartment around eight-thirty. We wouldn't put our plan into action until much later. While we waited for the cloak of darkness to descend upon Amsterdam we made a delicious vegetable lasagna. Nothing says social liberation like a good vegetarian meal.
At ten after eleven we slipped into the night. Johanna couldn't find her grandfather's keys, but Vlad told us not to worry. He hot-wired the car with ease. That's a very handy skill for a social activist. After winning two out of three rounds of Rock Paper Scissors, I sat in the front seat with Vlad. I was oddly attracted to him, even though he wasn't blonde or from California. He was just so mysterious and silent. There was something so dark and forbidden about Vlad. If only Abby would stop calling him Vlad the Impaler.
Sigh. The many burdens I bear. But, really, I digress.
We pulled into the alley behind the McDonald's. Johanna, Vlad, and I hunched down low in the car while Suzanne tiptoed around the alley. I held my breath and crossed my fingers. Then, I heard it. A single clap. The signal for us to follow. Quietly, we slipped out of the car, supplies tucked under our arms. Quick as an expert cat burglar, Vlad picked the lock. We kept our flashlights pointed low to the ground as we filed into the dark and empty McDonald's.
"The freezer's back this way," whispered Suzanne.
I pushed past her, so that I would lead the way.
"There it is," breathed Johanna, as the gigantic freezer came into view.
Still in the lead, I pressed down the door handle, pulling the door toward me. The freezer light clicked on, illuminating the carnage inside.
Suzanne sniffled. "Such a waste of such beauty,"
"Like soldiers on the battlefield. The frozen reminders of a war long lost. A war they never had a chance of winning," I said.
"Let's have a moment," said Johanna. The four of us stood very still, contemplating the lives lost in the unbalanced war man waged against the kind and gentle cow.
"Don't worry," Suzanne whispered, patting a stack of the frozen hamburger patties. "We will avenge your deaths. None of you will have died in vain. Your end was only the beginning. The people will know. They'll know."
We set to work. Vlad and Johanna held open the pillowcases while Suzanne and I filled them with the frozen patties. We worked quickly, filling all ten pillowcases. Leaving no patty behind we checked each corner of the freezer. On the way out, Johanna kicked over the soda dispenser with a single swift, graceful swing of her leg. Suzanne and I cheered. Imagine, the four of us bringing down a corporation like McDonald's. It really made me appreciate how truly amazing I really am.
We drove to the outskirts of Amsterdam and parked behind a church. We'd been there earlier that day. The graveyard behind the church was part of our plan. A very big part. We'd spent a lot of time there the last few days, surveying the area, checking for local busybodies, and finally, digging all the individual graves. It had been quite time consuming, but we managed to dig two hundred and ten tiny graves, each just big enough for a frozen hamburger patty. While Suzanne, Johanna, and I dug the holes, Vlad made tiny white crosses to mark each grave. It was all so beautiful and symbolic. In the morning, we would pass out flyers, inviting everyone to come pay respects to the lives stolen by the cold, calculating murderers at McDonald's. People would be so shocked and appalled they would never allow a grilled cow carcass to pass their lips again.
We placed a patty in each grave, carefully covering them with a generous mound of dirt. Vlad followed behind us, driving the crosses into the soft soil. Tears fell from Suzanne's eyes when the final cross went into the ground. Brushing the soil from our clothes, we formed a circle of love, friendship, and vegetarianism. Clasping hands, we prayed that the souls of the murdered cows be released from their frozen prison, so that they may finally discover eternal peace.
We drove back into the city in silence, contemplating what we'd done, imagining all the good it would do. When people saw that mass burial, they'd know. They'd care. I smiled at Vlad, a small, shy smile so that he might think me humble. I reached for my fanny pack to take out a tube of chapstick. But - oh no!
"My fanny pack!" I shrieked. "It's gone!"
"Did you leave it at the graveyard?" asked Johanna.
"I don't think so. I don't remember having it there," I replied. Actually, the last time I remembered feeling it hug my tanned, slenderhips was... "I think I left it at McDonald's,"
"Why did you take it off?" Suzanne asked, irritably.
I bristled. I did not approve of her sudden attitude. " I didn't," I snapped. "It must have slid off or something. Maybe the clasp broke. I don't know. We have to go back,"
"No way!" cried Johanna. "Everything's gone so perfectly. We can't risk getting caught now."
I turned in my seat, regarding them with a look of stoic grace. Why were they making this so difficult for me? "Well..." I started. "My wallet's in the fanny pack. In the wallet are my SMS and Vista I.D. cards. And, my video rental card for Mega Video,"
Suzanne slapped her palm to her forehead. What, had she never made a mistake before?
"Back to the Leidseplein, Vlad," groaned Suzanne.
I bit my tongue, so not to say something I might regret later. I was being very diplomatic about the whole thing. Very generous of me considering how stale Suzanne was acting.
Vlad pulled around to the alley again. I was about to step out of the car when a bright light shined in through the front windshield.
"Oh man!" I shrieked. "The fuzz!"
"Floor it, Vlad!" screamed Suzanne.
Vlad put the car in reverse, tires squealing as we roared back out of the alley. The policemen ran for their car. I saw them dive into the front seat just as we peeled out onto the street. As we turned the corner, two more police cars joined the chase. I gripped the door handle with a white-knuckled fist, prepared to jump at any moment. As I held onto the door I noticed something down by my feet. Something dark and...oh. I guess I hadn't lost my fanny pack after all. Very discreetly, I clipped it back around my middle.
In the backseat, Suzanne sobbed uncontrollably while Johanna continuously declared that she wasn't afraid to die. Beside me, I thought I heard Vlad mumble something about "never going back to that place again". We neared the Leliegracht with the police still in hot pursuit. How would I ever explain this to Shannon's mother?
"Why are we slowing down?" asked Johanna, much too calmly.
"We're out of gas!" I yelled.
"The one thing we didn't think of!" Johanna shouted.
"That and Dawn leaving her damn fanny pack at McDonalds," spat Suzanne.
I'd had enough. I didn't need to take their abuse. The car was still moving pretty fast, but I didn't care. I opened the door and jumped out. I rolled to the sidewalk, then sprang to my feet and took off running. Behind me, I heard one of the police cars screech to a stop. The officers were now pursuing me on foot. I still had two blocks to run. I didn't know if I could outrun them. All I did know was that I didn't want to go to prison. I didn't want to be some woman named Hildegarde's bitch.
Then up ahead I saw it. Saw it and heard it. The low creak of a rusty old bicycle. On that bicycle was a girl with long, frizzy hair. "Gerhild!" I screamed, running faster. The policemen couldn't keep up with me. I'd left them far behind. "Gerhild!" I screamed again. Never did I think I'd be so thrilled to see anyone associated with Mallory Pike.
Gerhild Gegenhuber stopped her bicycle and turned her head toward me, appearing shocked and confused. I didn't have time to explain. I didn't have time to ask what she was doing out so late. All I could do was jump on the back of her bicycle. "Pedal!" I shrieked. "Pedal, pedal, pedal!"
Miraculously, she obeyed. For such a small, thin girl that Gerhild Gegenhuber sure can pump her legs. We flew down the street with the wind in our hair and the distant calls of the Amsterdam police following far behind us. I stood awkwardly on the back of Gerhild's bicycle, halfway standing in the basket, halfway straddling the back wheel, the rusty spokes slicing into my ankles like razor blade kisses. I didn't care. The yells of the policemen were dying away in the warmair, fading into the night. The welcome sight of Verbruggenhuis rose before me and I knew I was safe.