Inconspicuous

Volume 3
Issue 3
April, 2008
 How to be Conspicuous - p.2
Ode to the Thunderdome - p.3
Not Really Rants - p.3
IB Requirements - p.4
Emo Poetry - p.4
I’m so Angry All the Time: Chapter the Fourth - p.5
Bars of Freedom - p.7
Skies Unmarred -p.7
Here I Am - p.7
Mythbusters: Special Attendance Edition! - p.8
Stop Grade Addiction. Now! - p.9
Graffiti - p.10
Zombies: Day Two - p.11

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1
 How to Be Conspicuous
by Ezra Rex
In order to better answer the question of how we re-
main inconspicuous, we shall show you how not to
be inconspicuous. This also makes our jobs easier:
when conspicuity becomes more common, even our
conspicuousnesses will be inconspicuous.
Appearances:
1. Be Invisible – This violates the “blatant” part
of “blatantly subtle.” When someone bumps
into empty space or hears steps coming out of
nowhere, they start to get suspicious. A much
more inconspicuous alternative would be dis-
placement. Be somewhere you’re not. Or be in
two places at once. That’s the perfect alibi.
2. Wear Camouflage – Unless you have purple,
white, and prison-y camo, it probably won’t
work in South. The idea is to blend in, but for
those purposes, jeans and a center-leftist shirt
would work much better.
3. Wear Anything Rightist – Well, you might blend
in, but only because after the mob starts, no
one will actually know who’s in the centre. If
you’re lucky enough to get trampled, you would
surely be very inconspicuous, though.
4. Wear Anything Leftist – And I’m not talking
about “Buck Fush” or “Troops Out of Iran”
shirts (those are obviously inconspicuous). I
mean radically left shirts that promote revolu-
tionary economics and criticize “democrats”
for being too far right. Eugene’s leftist culture
remains stagnant, so anything that bubbles
away from that which is explicitly endorsed by
MoveOn.org is utterly obvious.
Actions:
1. Don’t Say Anything Suspicious – In fact, don’t
say anything. Everyone is clearly “normal”
with no planned activities, so when you say that
you’re doing “nothing” no one will be the wiser.
Seriously, though, it is easy to blend in with the
cover of an obviously fake club. We thank the
Chemistry club for providing a cover for In-
conspicuous’ activities; it doesn’t actually exist,
and anyone who claims they are going to it is
probably ditching you to go somewhere else.
Do you really think that South’s administration
would let someone like Moor Xu have a big
2
vat of liquid nitrogen and explode thermite? If
they don’t let the teachers do those experiments,
would they really let the students?
2. Always Check Before You Go Around the Cor-
ner – Someone might be watching you. That
is, someone is certainly watching you when
your back is turned to them, and they are also
watching when you look around the corner. If
you really wanted to be sneaky, you would have
extra-sensorial perception or otherwise know
what was around the corner already. We recom-
mend hacking into military satellites. That way,
you wouldn’t have to give others intelligence
when you are gathering intel.
3. Don’t Read Inconspicuous – Everyone is read-
ing Inconspicuous except for the authors of
Inconspicuous (who know every issue by heart).
Not reading Inconspicuous is a surefire way to
get people gossiping about how you’re an author
(well, unless you’re part of the administration).
Since you’re reading this article, you’re already
on your way to being inconspicuous. Good job!
4. Use Good Grammars – If you correct the gram-
mar of commercials (you don’t want to be one
less; you want to be one FEWER), speech, or
writing, you are one of few people who knows
anything about the English language. Being one
of the few is bad. Look at the president: if he
started speaking correctly, the top headline on
every paper would be “President Replaced by
Alien Pod-Person.”
Aptitudes:
1. Have Charisma – You know who has silver
tongues? Moses. And movie stars. And look
how inconspicuous they are: not at all. The less
glorious, more deep-in-the-mud you are, the less
chance of people knowing who you are, and if
someone doesn’t know who you are it’s a lot
harder for them to point you out.
2. Know Your Way Around a Computer – Some-
times it seems as though the authors of Incon-
spicuous are the only ones who know how to
use computers. This is how we know that the
computer programming club is real: no one
would use it as a façade because it would be
readily apparent that you either don’t know
about computers and thus are not going to com-
puter club, or you do know about computers and
you simply stand out.
3. Be a Ninja – If you are a ninja, then no one
should know of your existence. That you exist
as a ninja would be contradictory – ninjas are so
well hidden that they have portable black holes
surrounding them at all times to prevent anyone
from seeing, hearing, or bumping into them. If
you’re reading this, however, you probably do
exist, and the laws of physics apply to you, so
being a ninja would only result in getting your-
self on YouTube.
4. Be Ready for a Zombie Attack – Despite our
numerous warnings of the impending zombie
apocalypse in the previous issue, people have
not been taking our advice. If you are ready for
a zombie attack, you will stand out. There are
too few chainsaws and shotguns in lockers. The
only reason that the science department was able
to survive was by creating some napalm, apply-
ing it to genetically modified flies, and shoot-
ing it all out of a cannon. The choice, then, is
between living and standing out. Hard choice.
Ode to the Thunderdome
by Leah Wode
The sun hangs in the sky like a giant caramel scoop
of Prince Puckler’s ice cream
Its light brings out the sparkle in the dewy grass (it
rained last night)
The lawn balances upon a foundation of gooey mud
And, O!
I see Andrew Meyer creeping around like
A giant, anthropomorphic, dreadlocked bush.
Mary O’Connor’s Spanish students peer with
wonder out of their windows
As he clambers into Mr. Smith’s window
Like so much moss attacking a tree.
The rampant foliage glistens,
Welcoming,
“Come here!”
But alas,
I am stuck in history class.
3
Not Really Rants
by Felix Falkasius
Rather than looking at all the bad things in the
world and applying more signal to the positive feed-
back loop of negativity in my life, I have chosen to
be happy. By looking at the world as a good thing
rather than as something bad I get all giggly and
smiley. Instead of ranting this issue I’m going to
remind you guys about all the amazing things in the
world.
1. Sunny Days:
Frolicking in the radiant warmth of a sunny day is
absolutely perfect, but there is always the possibil-
ity of getting sunburned. A nice greasy coating of
sunscreen can usually prevent that, so you should
always remember to coat yourself to the point of ac-
tual measurable weight change to ensure maximum
efficacy.
2. Friends:
Friends are always great. They’re there when you
need them. They never abandon you to hang out
with their boyfriend or girlfriend. A good movie is
never more interesting than you. They’re never too
busy with homework to help you with a problem.
They don’t make excuses for why they didn’t invite
you to a party. Friends are awesome!
3. Lasers:
Does anybody else have any idea how disgustingly
awesome lasers are? I don’t mean little laser point-
ers that Officer Z takes away when you shine them
in his eye. I mean the awesome kind. Israeli de-
fence scientists built a laser to shoot down missiles,
but it spewed toxic gas so it was shut down. Now
the town that had the laser is suing the government
to get the laser back. They’re suing to get a FUCK-
ING LASER GUN!!! ISN’T THAT AWESOME?!?
4. Rickrolls:
We’re no strangers to love. You know the rules,
and so do I. A full commitment’s what I’m think-
ing of. You wouldn’t get this from any other guy. I
just want to tell you how I’m feeling. Gotta make
you understand. Never gonna give you up. Never
gonna let you down. Never gonna run around and
desert you. Never gonna make you cry. Never
gonna say goodbye. Never gonna tell a lie and hurt
you.
 IB Requirements leaders as Leah Reis-Dennis and Tatum Sohlberg fi-
nally decide to start taking school seriously. Lack of
by Justin Kayce
lunchtime will pull students away from their need-
lessly well-rounded, balanced lifestyles and suck
Man, am I relieved. It was touch and go there for them down the drain of solid academia. Success!
a while, and at some points I thought I might actu- I don’t know why people are so upset about this.
ally have an entire lunch period next year, but I Sure, it probably makes no sense to force IHS re-
think we’re finally in the clear. I can’t tell you how quirements on Classic South students. Sure, taking
appreciative I am that the head honchos over at the away lunchtime is probably a blatant violation of
International Baccalaureate Secret Headquarters First Amendment rights. Sure, we’ll probably see an
of Doom have forced the Science Department to increase in nervous breakdowns next year. But IB is
shorten my lunch period. Seriously, it’s unhealthy willing to overlook these little kinks to help us reach
to give teenage delinquents all of fifty minutes to our full potential as chemistry students, whether or
relax and not think about school. So this whole sci- not we’re even going for an IB diploma. And, really,
ence requirement thing is just a huge weight off my what more could we ask for?
shoulders.
Next year, I’ll finally be able to focus all my
energies on school and academics. It’s unfortunate Emo Poetry
we’ll still have twenty minutes to eat and talk with by Maynard James Ferguson XII
friends. (um, shudder?!) But I don’t think it’ll be
that big of a problem, because the delightful stu- Oh fingernails
dents taking AP Chemistry (oh, I’m sorry, AP/IB Why must I always
Chemistry) aren’t the sort to take a bunch of free cut you
periods anyway, so they’ll likely be using those Once a week?
twenty minutes to their advantage. They’ll be hur- You have such self-destructive
riedly talking with teachers about assignments, or tendencies
swiftly nattering with their counselors about gradu- When you make me cut you
ation requirements, or chitchatting at superspeed I think of:
with the Career Center inhabitants about the Senior darkness
Project, or dashing to the doctor’s office for a five- misery
minute checkup on that annoying ulcer. suffering
Okay, so the twenty minutes will probably etc.
be taken care of. Phew. Some students will likely so sad.
complain that they can’t make it all the way to and the filing
Tin Lizzie’s and back in twenty minutes’ time, but ohhhhhhhhh the filing.....
honestly, is food really that important? Sure, we’re
still growing, but isn’t pleasing the IB Gods more the battle in my soul
important that reaching our full heights? South puts between forces of light and darkness
out a really short graduating class. So what? We’ll is like the one
be stunted, sure, but we’ll know our chemistry! between
And a few students fainting in the halls from link and
lack of nutrition isn’t that big of a deal. And sure, Ganondorf
maybe a few students will be tempted to munch on only
the delicious-looking chemicals in the lab. Fine! Ganondorf is winning
Ambulances aren’t that expensive, people. And the setting me violently on purple
school we miss while we’re in the hospital can eas- with his Smash attacks
ily be made up at lunch or something! Oh…wait…
Oh! And the lunch-shortening will also lead to a Continued on page 9.
decrease in club involvement! Harry Potter Club’s
lunchtime meetings will dwindle as such prominent
4
 I’m so Angry All the Time
the perpetually dramatic adventures of
Harry Potter, boy wizard
by Maynard James Ferguson XII
Chapter the Fourth:
In which Harry’s hormones get the best of
him for not the last time
One fine autumn day, Harry was walking moodily
along through Hogwarts with his bff, Hermione, and
his ex-boyfriend, Ron, thinking about biting people
he liked, when along came Cho Chang. “Hi Harry,”
she said, her terrible haircut waving seductively in
the strong indoor breeze.
Harry was inexplicably annoyed (it couldn’t have
been because of her hair since he had such terrible
hair himself). “Cho, do you want to be with me,
or with Roger Davies? Make a decision! And stop
complaining about Cedric Diggory, for the love of
god!”
Cho began to cry. “Harry, you used to have Ron on
the side all the time. Why can’t I go out with Roger
Davies sometimes? Asshole!” she yelled, then ran
away crying miserably.
“That was successful,” Ron said sarcastically, avert-
ing his eyes. Hermione performed the awkward tur-
tle, and was about to launch into an explanation of
why people are sad when their boyfriends die, when
a short, thin, black-haired man wearing a horribly
over-starched suit materialized out of the crowd.
He looked, if that was possible, even angrier than
Harry, and teetered slightly as he stopped drunkenly
before them, a bottle of vodka clenched in his fist.
Upon closer inspection, he was squinting severely.
He teetered for a moment longer, then grabbed the
front of Harry’s robes in his non-vodka fist, drunk-
enly snatched the boy’s glasses, and punched him in
the face. Shouting in Russian and gesturing wildly,
the man stormed severely away.
“Shit almighty! What was that?” exclaimed Ron
excitedly. He thrived on conflict.
“Dunno,” mumbled Harry, angstier than before.
5
Hermione sighed impatiently. “*THAT*,” she said
in her I-swallowed-a-textbook voice, “was Dmitri
Shostakovich, a Russian composer of the Soviet
period whose complex relationship with the social-
ist government, among other factors, led to a musi-
cal style of colossal emotional power, and *appar-
ently*, he thinks you stole his glasses and broke
them.” (she paused for breath) “I don’t know why
you two don’t know this, we spent all last week on
it in History of Twentieth Century Modernist and
Post-Romantic Music! And why aren’t you taking
notes?” By now she was shrieking irritably.
Ron and Harry looked at each other bemusedly.
“Obviously Ron wasn’t paying attention because
he’s the mildly idiotic faux-rebellious sidekick,”
said Harry angstily, “And I wasn’t in class because I
was busy making out with the Bloody Baron. A real
bff would know this kind of stuff!”
Just then, the prettiest and most well-endowed
Slytherin at Hogwarts walked by, her seductive
black hair also waving in the non-contextual breeze.
Her name was Moonshine Lestrange, but her friends
called her Raven, or Absinthe, or xXdarksoul666Xx
for short. “Has anybody seen my pointy-featured
boyfriend?” the girl asked nobody in particular.
Suddenly Hermione was overcome with what had
previously been a merely vague lust for Draco Mal-
foy. She wondered momentarily what she should
tell the girl, searching her thoughts for a statement
thoughtless enough to be totally out of character,
and severe enough to be hilariously unbelievable.
“I’ve seen him,” she said. “In my dreams!” With
that, her eyes filled non-sequitorially with tears, and
she ran away sobbing tensely (there was always a
lot of sexual tension at Hogwarts).
Moonshine was momentarily stunned. Other people
had feelings for her boyfriend, who was portrayed
in films by British actor Tom Felton? Just then,
her slightly less-well-endowed sister, a Hufflepuff,
walked by with her group of nice but otherwise
useless friends. Her name was Magma, and she had
no sinister-sounding or alcohol-related nicknames.
“Hi Moonshine,” said Magma in an un-Hogwartsly
cheerful tone.
“Oh... Hi, Magma, I guess,” frowned Moonshine.
She disliked the color yellow.
“Hey, do you want to go to the Three Broomsticks
later?” Quipped Magma, not picking up on her sis-
ter’s inner anxieties regarding the Hufflepuff house
colors.
“Not really. I had plans to spend the evening being
sullen and thinking of gothic nicknames for myself.
Also, since I’m a Slytherin, our parents favor me,
creating awkward and difficult sibling dynamics.
And I don’t really like you anyways.”
Magma seemed surprised, as if she had never spo-
ken to her sister, or to their parents, who were Death
Eaters. “Oh. I’ll just go with Percy Weasley, then.”
“Percy Weasley? WTF! I totally used to make out
with him in the back of math class during middle
school! He’s MY boyfriend!”
“But we didn’t even go to middle school!” protested
Magma. Then, for little apparent reason, the sisters
simultaneously decided to attack each other. Within
moments, plaintive cries of “witch fight” could be
heard echoing in Hogwarts’ oldish, tapestry-covered
halls. Neither of them thought to draw their wands,
which was odd, because they were attending magic
school. Instead, they went at each other Muggle-
style, with fists, feet, teeth, toenails, claws, and
tentacles. The fight lasted for a long time, with most
of the spectators standing around helplessly, even
though they were, as stated above, in magic school.
Harry Potter, in particular, seemed to be trying extra
un-hard to stop the fight. It even appeared that he
was enjoying it. In fact, he was, as he had a fetish
for girls with fangs and suction cups. Presently,
however, Severus walked in gloweringly. “All right,
enough of that, you bunch of hooligans. Potter,
Magma, come with me. And Weasley. Weasley
should come too. Moonshine, run along and be a
good girl.”
The four proceeded down a lot of stairs, into the
darker and more below-groundish parts of Hog-
warts. In Severus’s office, the children sat down
very un-suggestively across his desk while he paced
sullenly back and forth a few times. “Kiddies,”
6
he said in his usual batlike tone, “I can’t have you
starting fights with Slytherins like that. It’s bad
business. A kajillion points from Gryffindor, half a
kajillion from Hufflepuff, and twenty to Slytherin.”
“But Severus,” protested Magma, “We both started
the fight, Moonshine and I, and Ron and Harry
didn’t have anything at all to do with it.”
“Liar liar, pants on fire!” observed Severus cun-
ningly.
“She’s not a liar, you’re the liar, you two-bit Death
Eater dropout!” accused Harry in an uncontrollable
burst of hormones.
“Yeah, Severus,” agreed Ron in an uncommitted
way.
“Hmm.. I think I’ll blame ginger this time, just to
change things up. Weasley, into my inner sanctum.
And for the love of God, stop calling me by my first
name!”
Ron the Ginger followed Snape bemusedly through
a door in a bookshelf. He was vexed, but decided
to comply anyways. Meanwhile, Magma and Harry
were left in Snape’s formaldehyde-smelling office
to be awkward together. It didn’t take long before
they discovered that they had the same astrologi-
cal sign and both enjoyed long walks on the beach
while the sun was setting; as was inevitable, this
led to a prolonged make-out session. It wasn’t long,
though, before none other than Cho Chang burst
into the office, an occurrence which signaled a
rocky segment in the plot.
What will happen next? Will Cho and Harry break
up for the tenth time? Will Magma reveal her true
feelings for Ron? Will someone DIE? Tune in next
time to find out!
Dumdum DUM DUM dum dummmmmm.....
 Bars of Freedom The third time risen daffodil
Again, behind the pane of windows
by Sumt Ingnu
Peer dimly squinted eyes
“yep” they say, “spring has sprung
Bars of freedom bound me skyward
And green wears red and yellow”
Held aloof with steely vice
“Grand” they say, “summer comes
Heart string song sung metallic
With ice and air-conditioned joy
Rhythm scything silent silver
Cooling pools of languid blues
Air awash in warbled sheen
Crisp-cut tiles sing aquamarine
Shining blind in earthless night
Ever clean with chlorine clouds
Warping waves illuminate
Nice as sunshine skies unmarred
Every pulse unleashed
In echoes distilling solitude
Here I am
Finally gleaming freedom steel by Sumt Ingnu
Forged and beat in vicious pride
Twists blackly bent in passion fire Here I am
Freedom twisted tame Single soul kept company by solitude
Single sanguine sphere blushed golden
So I slip speedy past Lost in gilded sunset surf
Lowly freedom deemed unclean Caressed forlorn by morning glow
Receding clouds Shimmering waves of hope
Flows up fast Sighing sadly sandward
As freefall winds wind Every sunkissed tear
Around my silent scream Frothing, drowning downward drawn
Toward depths embracing chill
Skies Unmarred Till numb with shade
Shades from boundless fathoms
by Sumt Ingnu
Cast by lucid souls writhing skyward
Every blending bend transparent
It is the throb of suburbia
Every drop pulled thin as sanity
It is that incandescent virulence
Sobbing lonely orbs entwined
White walls, white fences, faces
Terrified lawns lapping, grasping,
And here I am
Worm rebellion muttered down
Quivering breathless
Gasp, blades beat, sweep hope clean
Azure sphere fazing
Cropped shag rug bleats blood
Fading unseen
Pooling on yards in stare-bright green
Frantic at a glance
Rhythm punctuated screams
Peripheral unbinding
Polyethylene parrot paramour
Free to evaporate
Twolips wailing cacophony
At the echo of a whisper
Lips full fat, waxed with water
Pumped like botox faceward
Spewn from hoses’ serpentine emulation
Coiling in cancerous patience

Buttered yellow bloom

Margarine gleam, refined sheen
Full-flesh fat sulking sulfurous
Standing row grows cultured
Smog smothered sun rose again
7
 Mythbusters: gram for the purpose of hunting down skippers. The
dinosaurs were rumored to have been kept in a pit
Special Attendance Edition! underneath the band room, where they were fed in-
by Maynard James Ferguson XII frequently to increase their bloodthirsty tendencies.
Obviously those rumors are unconfirmed, due to an
The staff of Inconspicuous thought it was a understandable lack of witnesses, but we’ll just put
pretty awesome idea from the administration to do it this way: many orchestra students we’ve talked
Don’t-Skip-School day in the style of the Discov- to remain unconvinced that Karl Elliker actually
ery Channel’s Mythbusters. What’s next? Deadliest moved to Indiana.
Catch: Freshman Hunt? Dirty Jobs: Vice Principal? Anyway, the point is, you should be thankful
Anyway, it was a great rhetorical strategy for get- that velociraptor punishment is now illegal, because
ting in touch with the kids, with just one problem: Axe Body Spray is known to be irresistable to them.
they didn’t actually test any of the myths! As your
most reliable news organization, we decided it was Myth 5: If you don’t fill out the pre-arranged ab-
our responsibility to personally test some of the sence forms, John Wayland will come to your house
rumors we’ve heard circulating. and kick your dog.
Status: This one turned out to be true... Awkward...
Myth 1: If you skip class under the new policy, your
head will explode.
Status: Definitely busted. We tested this one until
our GPA’s withered away like unwatered Magic
Beans under the cruel Hylian sun. Justin got a tingly
sensation and some ominous-looking smoke, but
that’s it. Our research suggests that it might take
skipping Mr. Stewart’s class until the day of the Ex-
istentialism essay and then trying to write it to make
your head actually explode.

Myth 2: POWERTHIRST will prevent your grades

from going down if you skip.
Status: Sorry, Grace Kouba. We know how much
you like skipping, but no energy drink, even one
that’s fashionable at sweet rave parties, will keep
teachers from failing you if they feel like it.

Myth 3: The new policy doesn’t prevent the kind of

skipping that’s really a problem, because chronic
skippers don’t care about school anyway.
John Wayland makes puppies sad.
Status: Bourgeois-elite lies! The will of the state is
the will of the people! Success for all!

Myth 4: The new attendance policy is far more dra-

conian than the old one.
Status: Also busted. Under the old policy, teachers
were free to mete out whatever punishments they
felt were appropriate to students’ misdoings. Of
course, some teachers were more lenient, but some
were just as harsh, or even more so. Several teach-
ers were even rumored to have participated in an
underground (literally) velociraptor breeding pro-
8
 Stop Grade Addiction. Now! white, feeling time flow slowly past. We who know
that ideas, no matter how well intended, how noble
by Sumt Ingnu
in effort, are only as good as the actions they in-
spire. Any obstacle no matter how leviathanic can
Although we must credit our education
be overcome by the action of united individuals.
system as a valiant effort with only the best of
And so, we too can fell the current stagnant dol-
intentions, one cannot help but notice that effort
drums of academia, and breathe animation into the
and intent alone will not always suffice. Many long
slumbering seeds of potential. Liberate the Addicts!
years have passed; first grade, second, third, each
new level piled upon the previous like a dilapidated
Disclaimer: the flaws present in this argument can
stack of alphabet blocks, stiff wooden facts, ines-
only be attributed to the fallacies of the education
capably intractable in their fine cut definition. The
I used to write it. Any weakness should serve as
day to day impersonal and unexplained plethora of
further support.
isolated informational regurgitations excreted by
Disclaimer: the flaws present in this and the
bewildered teachers puppeted by the administrative
previous disclaimer can only be attributed to the
bureaucracy of standardized requirements, is con-
flaws in my education. All flaws are strengths.
ducive only to the mechanical whirr of rote memo-
Disclaimer: Even the obvious
rization removed from ‘reality’ by its inapplicable
strengths are weak and therefore strong.
factual purity.
Disclaimer: disclaimers are
Accomplishments are then measured and
weak. They strengthen the aforementioned article,
rewarded by alphabetical denominations, simple
which makes it weak, which makes it strong.
black letters on white pages, cherished beamingly
Any confusion experienced demonstrates the
as symbolic incarnations of success. Teachers dole
inadequacy of your education. You should seek
out grades like they’re opium, sedating addicted
help for grade addiction immediately.
students, while keeping everyone passive and con-
formist for fear they will lose their next grade fix. A
good teacher in a healthy class should leave at the Emo Poetry
close of day wrung out beyond coherency and brain by Maynard James Ferguson XII
picked to the point of satisfied exhaustion. There from p.4
should be no room for wasted efforts of arbitrary
grading. Besides, once freed from grades, who will If i were a fish
lead us on with sweet words of hollow compliment? inside of a fish bowl
Our motivation would have to come from some- i wouldn’t write poetry
thing other than the need to satiate grade addiction. i would just >stare
It is time at last to shatter the ancient creak- all
ing structural cubes of academia and raise from the day
splinters the raging flames of a real education. An long
education where students have the knowledge and out
internal drive to seek for themselves what infor- from my poorly-oxygenated sphere
mation pleases them. Where any pupil can fluidly and wish
outline the true relevancies and frames of reference that i had
of any ideal, the precipitation of personal opinions some more fishy flakes
naturally forthcoming, impending oceans waiting
behind every drop in baited support. An education
which births the divine spark of humanity: creativ-
ity, and equips each potential world changer, each
student with the tools to share these blazing flashes
of revelation.
We are the communicators of this idea. We
who gaze down at these simple words, black on
9
 Graffiti Another advantage of a “freestall” is that all of the
grey-minded folks, who didn’t feel the need to see
by Sumt Ingnu
art at any given moment, would be welcome to sim-
ply choose another stall. The administration could
Graffiti is becoming a serious problem. Innocent
have no argument because one of its effects would
south students gripped in flashes of artistic revela-
be to concentrate the graffiti so that all those boring
tion are being reprimanded for their generosity
walls could stay that way forever!
in placing their works or words in public spaces.
Otherwise perfectly blank and bland walls and
bathroom stalls, desks, and more, bloom with viva-
cious hues while otherwise perfectly bland lan-
guage is bursting with color. By some monumental
misunderstanding authority figures everywhere
seem squinty and disgruntled at these thoughtful
redecorations. The artists naturally, as any true phi-
lanthropist should, don’t even seek recognition for
their contributions to society; in fact, they willingly
maintain scrupulous anonymity. The dignity to be
found in inconspicuousness of course is admired by
the administration. Why else would they only pun-
ish those who lapse into discovery?
I have even seen artists discretely initialing what
could be none other than invisible murals painstak-
ingly painted with such care that even the work its-
self is inconspicuous. It is such a small indulgence
to initial ones works visibly, especially with all that
care taken to make the rest of it invisible. Graf-
fiti has been made a problem even for these gentle
givers, however. The problem of Graffiti must be
addressed. Those that have a problem with it need
addressing.
One solution that would satisfy all is the allowance
of a “freewall”---a designated space where graffiti
was not only allowed, but encouraged. Naturally
the artists that were so confused and misinformed
that they accidentally included mislabels for whole
groups of individuals, would be allowed to use the
wall despite the woeful lack of quality in their work.
It would simply offer them a chance to enjoy the
embarrassment of exposing their foolishness and
ignorance for anyone to see.
The space should obviously be the insides of the
first bathroom stall in every bathroom. For one
thing, while other aspects of the body are occupied,
it seems the temptation to create art with the hands
is almost reflexive. Just look in almost any stall
if you don’t know what I mean. I suppose while
one thing is being produced on one end, another is
produced on the other---It like a law of physics or
something---And art is that other thing.
10
 Zombies: Day Two
by John Nedry
Zombies: Part 2
At the end of the 300 Hall, the mass of
zombies disintegrated amidst a rain of gunfire and
shrieks, mutilated corpses flying in every direction.
The gunpowder smoke cleared, leaving behind it a
crescent of dead infected, encircling the dark silhou-
ette of Officer Z.
He stood there, motionless, listening for any
sign of the infected. Z epically removed his sun-
glasses and turned his head each direction, survey-
ing the back hall. Sensing no immediate danger, he
stepped over the pile of the newly re-deceased. As
he stepped over the bodies, his ankle was pulled
into an immensely bone-crushing grip. Without a
hesitation, Z nonchalantly aimed down, and blew
out the zombie’s face.
and put every last ounce of energy he had into
one… enormous… push! Useless. As the monster
launched in for the bite, Z closed his eyes, when at
that moment the beast was hurled from his chest
and into the air. It crashed against the ceiling and
dropped lifeless to the ground, revealing the mass
of a tremendous figure. Undoubtedly something far
more terrible than what had just threatened his mor-
tality, Z quickly made a reach for his weapon, but
was stopped in his tracks before he made it halfway.
Brad Jungert, panting, clad in an inappropri-
ately cheerful purple vest, stared down at him. He
extended a hand, and pulled Officer Z to his feet.
“You were a bouncer, huh?”
“Event Security.”

“Stubborn bastard, aren’t you?”

He chuckled to himself, and began to make

his way down the 300 Hall. Z had made himself
a promise that should the Science Department’s
serum ever be released into the South populace,
he would not leave the building until every per-
son within was either unexposed or destroyed. He
moved slowly, listening for the ungodly shrieks and
moans of the plagued, keeping alert for a creature to
launch out at him at any moment. Weapon aimed, Z
moved down the hallway, one step at a time, check-
ing through the door of each room as he did, but
never wavering from the center of the corridor.

As he neared Room 307, Z came to a dead
stop. Up ahead of him was a noise: A shuffling.
Something which either meant somebody with an
unfortunate leg injury, or more likely, the living
dead. Assuming the latter, Z listened more intently
as he slowly crept his way towards the door. He was
within feet of the doorway now, and would be in fir-
ing range just… about…

Z’s weapon discharged and he was on the

ground, pinned beneath the blue rotting flesh of a
screeching face. He glanced into its cloudy eyes
11
 For those of you who choose not to follow the advice in our “How To Be Conspicuous” article…

(INCONSPICUOUS) Staff Application

The first issue of Inconspicuous was distributed January 19th, 2006. The vi-
sion of Inconspicuous was of an outlet for students to publish their thoughts and
ideas outside of a classroom setting and the restrictions imposed on writers of
the Axe.

Today, we follow that tradition and extend that vision to you. Inconspicuous
wishes to give all unheard student voices the opportunity to write about what-
ever they desire and to silently watch as people appreciate their hard work.

If you want to be a part of Inconspicuous, email InconspicuousLit@gmail.com

with the subject “2009 Application Request,” and we will reply with an appli-
cation for you to fill out. Each member of Inconspicuous also has a facebook
account, if you would rather message us (and tell us your email) there. Keep in
mind that, because you may be writing for Inconspicuous next year, wall posts
requesting applications are discouraged.

All applicants should send in their applications as soon as possible. We want to

talk with next year’s staff before school is out – some of us have full summers.
Try to get your applications in by May 19. This means that you should request
an application soon. If you suddenly desire to be a member of Inconspicuous
after the deadline has passed, check in with us. We may still choose to accept
you.

Tell your friends.

-The Inconspicuous Staff

12
 Dear Readers
Inconspicuous is an independent publication. This means that each is-
sue we print comes straight from the contributors’ pocketbooks.
Please do your part and pass this issue on to someone else, or leave it
somewhere inconspicuous for the next reader to find.
Thank you for your help keeping us alive.

--The Inconspicuous Staff