The Lies that Mimi Told

This is Danawell, my home freshman year:

Please note that Hallowell, the building to the right, is all but missing from the photo. It's ok, it's not a very nice dorm anyway, and it looks exactly like Dana, the one on the left. It is in the basement of Hallowell that I shared a room with Mimi Hanaoka. And it is here that our tale begins.






Now then, Mimi took this class a few years ago. Long after she had written her little story on her little web page, I was allowed to see it. You can imagine my horror when i found that her story was all LIES. That's right. Something about me "burning down" Hallowell...things about "fire trucks" coming. So, once and for all, I would like to set the story straight.

I did, however, burn a poptart.

Here's what really happened:

So, I like poptarts. Conveniently for me, the kitchen is located in the basement of Hallowell. So one night, I pop one of those tasty little suckers in the microwave. Not having grown up in a home with microwaves, they often baffle me (you can imagine how I am with computers). Anyway, I'm not really sure what happened, but one thing led to another, and pretty soon the sugar frosting is smoking. So I open up the microwave, take out my burning poptart with some obscenities on the side, and curse the fact that I have lost a perfectly good poptart.

So the fire alarm goes off. There's flashing lights and loud noises and many people on the floors above me, fearing the worst, evacuate the building. My RA that year was a very nice girl whose sweet, little, Japanese-speaking mother had flown in from California to visit her. Woken by the alarm and the smell of burnt poptart, and perhaps also fearing that the building is about to go up in flames, she gets out of bed, gets dressed, and comes out into the hallway to tell us that her daughter is studying in the library. Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, it is possible that a public safety officer was there too. But they're always around. No fire trucks, Mimi. Please. Just a poptart and poor Amy Phillips' mom. I've been waiting years to take this class and show her up. (By the way, if you follow the link on her name, above, just make sure you scroll down.)