by Chris Conroy

Xavier Michael Roberts (aka "X" to his classmates) had great big ideas running through his ten year old brain. He would imagine these ideas, these things - vivid blood reds exploding off shiny swords swung by muscled heroes and toothless villains riding fire breathing winged monsters over great mountains and crashing seas - while staring out the window of his fifth grade glass run by the sweaty, overweight, bushy-eyebrowed Mr. Hoffman: Xavier... Xavier... XAVIER the fat bastard would yell, snapping X from his world... When did... What has... Who was... How does...? But X never knew the answers, he never heard the questions. His classmates would laugh and then Peter Danko or Sue Wong or one of the other "normal kids" would blurt out the correct answer - 1776, Martin Luther King, Hexagon, Osmosis - and X (confused/frustrated/embarrassed) would turn with a speedy leg back to the window until the bell rang. X's parents had a conference with Hoffman and then, a few days later, X had to sit and talk with Doctor Chybicki - you can call me Doctor C - who, after just one visit, diagnosed X with ADD/ADHD. Xavier Michael Roberts now eats a focus pill (addconstasalmethylfindynomite) once in the morning and once before bed and his classmates call him Michael, Mike, instead of X, and should Michael, Mike, happened to now look out the window, he would see a packed parking lot of cars, all empty inside but full of gas.


Chris Conroy, maker of Toast, writes after breakfast and before lunch.