What would you do if it were your last day? I’d gorge myself on marshmallows. I don’t particularly like marshmallows, but maybe it would make people stop and think for a bit. “Why marshmallows,” they would ask. “What did they symbolize? Did they symbolize his hopes and dreams, so soft and delicate, so prone to melting when near flames? Was he afraid fire would be the end of his dreams? Why were his dreams flammable- did he want to build a giant castle out of straw, perhaps? The story of the Three Little Pigs should have taught him better than that. Did he not read enough as a child? Is this whole thing some statement about the state of education in this country? Wow, he’s really deep. What a tragic loss. Ahead of his time.” And then marshmallows would slowly become a symbol of the plight of students in this country, and people will carry around marshmallow sculptures at rallies and protests, in my honor. Then, a decade later, somebody will find an old book of mine under the floorboards, that says simply, “The marshmallows are meaningless.” And everyone carrying marshmallow sculptures outside of the capitol building would feel kind of silly.
