I first saw her in English class. After a quick forty-minute search of Google, I found out that she had been an equestrian since middle school. My first thought was to immediately enroll in an eight month long equestrian program. I went the extra-mile and completed it in nine. Now more confident than ever, I&rsquo;m taking my horse Klaus to school and finally asking my crush out. The cars honk at us as we merge onto the highway. We make it two miles before we are pulled over by a police officer. He tells me that Klaus&rsquo; tags are expired. I check behind Klaus&rsquo; tail. He&rsquo;s right. God, that&rsquo;s so embarrassing. Thankfully the officer lets us off with a warning. He was young and in love once too. When we exit the highway and enter my school&rsquo;s campus, we are stopped by security. They tell me that I can&rsquo;t go any farther because Klaus is the most beautiful horse they&rsquo;ve ever seen. They reach out their hands to pet him, but I wave them off. Klaus isn&rsquo;t some common animal, he&rsquo;s a goddamn horse. I take Klaus into the building. We pass Principal Sullivan, and he points to the no-horses sign on the wall. He tears it down in front of us and gives Klaus an approving nod. When we get to the classroom, I find my crush sitting alone. Our teacher and classmates are in the hallway still celebrating Klaus&rsquo; arrival. I tell my crush I love her. That&rsquo;s when I remember that equestrians don&rsquo;t love other equestrians. They love horses. She locks eyes with Klaus and then kisses him. Klaus whinnies uncomfortably. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s fine,&rdquo; I tell him. &ldquo;You deserve it.&rdquo;

I first saw her in English class. After a quick forty-minute search of Google, I found out that she ...

Horses

It&rsquo;s Monday in Morrison County, and that means the courthouse is open for&hellip; business? No, justice. The jurors are about to exonerate the defendant when Stevens appears at the door. He isn&rsquo;t on the roster. He&rsquo;s not even an American citizen. &ldquo;Who are you?&rdquo; asks the head juror, Peter-Paul. Stevens blows a cloud of smoke into his face. &ldquo;The solution.&rdquo;
Stevens strolls into the room, and each juror moves to give up their seat. Stevens opts to sit on the center of the jury table instead. &ldquo;What are we deciding on today?&rdquo; he asks, gesturing to the junior-most juror to get him two steaks and a bottle of jack. He&rsquo;d been sober for 16 years, but if there&rsquo;s any shot of solving this case, he&rsquo;s gonna need a little help from ol&rsquo; faithful. &ldquo;Pass the evidence here, son,&rdquo; Stevens grunts at Peter-Paul, who is 20 years his senior. After Peter&ndash;Paul hands him the evidence papers, Stevens lets out a rye chuckle. He stares at the bundle momentarily, then lights it on fire. He wasn&rsquo;t going to waste his time reading a silly little packet. &ldquo;Guilty.&rdquo; Stevens takes a swig of the jack, smiling sadly. The defendant was clearly innocent, but Stevens was just too good. He didn&rsquo;t want to convict. But he had to. That&rsquo;s the thing with justice. Either you play the game, or the game plays you. And Stevens knew this fact all too well. After the jury officially declares five-year-old Carly Phillips guilty of an upgraded first-degree-murder charge, the judge pulls Stevens aside. He tells Stevens about Carly&rsquo;s big dreams and her even bigger heart. The judge begs&mdash;pleads&mdash;for Carly&rsquo;s life. Stevens simply pats the judge on the head, and without a word, strolls out of the courthouse. Carly got the electric chair three days later.

It’s Monday in Morrison County, and that means the courthouse is open for… business? No, justice. Th...

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Triage

Typically, presidents near the end of their term are worried about how they’ll be remembered.I’m much more worried about finding my next job.
It’s my fault, really. I was dumb enough to take a position that had neither long-term security nor
opportunities for advancement, and why? To network? My entire cabinet will also be out of a job after inauguration day.
The scary part is that presidential success has little bearing on post-presidential job prospects. In fact, 100% of people who don’t get elected president go on to do something else. The same can’t be said for men like FDR and JFK, and they were some of the finest to occupy the White House. At this rate, I’ll be on the street, wishing I hadn’t cut unemployment benefits so severely.
Picture this. I’m applying for a sales role at Walmart, and all the manager sees on my résumé
is eight years in the highest office in the nation and zero retail experience. When she asks how I’d handle a difficult coworker, I recap the lessons from my
nuclear standoff with Russia. “Sorry,” she says. “The right answer is to go to HR.” See how stupid I’d look 
Reporters ask me when I’ll bring the troops home. I tell them never, it’s hard enough finding work without extra competition. Though Congress writes hundreds of bills, they won’t write me one letter of recommendation. I’vethought about going back to college, but I could never get in these days—I’m only the president of one organization.
Besides, in this recession I’m responsible for, it’ll be tough to be jobless when the aliens take over. Yes, you heard that correctly, the generals have told me that aliens are real and they’re coming, and when
they arrive, I’ll be lying to people at parties about being an “entrepreneur.” Hopefully our extraterrestrial overlords will keep me on as a lab rat.

Typically, presidents near the end of their term are worried about how they’ll be remembered.I’m much more worried about finding my next job...

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Caden Heiser-Cerrato