Andrew Martin Robinson enters the Capitol Building (his dad’s house where he’s living “temporarily”). He strides down the aisle (the thin strip of carpet without dog toys and charger cables). Andrew stands behind the lectern (sits on the toilet).
Andrew: The State of the Andrew is strong.
His audience of empty shampoo bottles and wayward mustache hairs erupts into silence.
Andrew: This year, I won the inaugural Shore Scripts Podcast contest and am currently in talks about getting it professionally produced. I also won the Crystal Lake Publishing Flash Fiction Contest in the Month of March (or CLP-Double-F-CitMoM, for short). Prose has always been a challenge for me, so this victory meant a lot. Also, after overcoming many hardships and punching many walls, I finally managed to make my website functional. I do not appreciate my web builder describing my site as the “Sahara Desert of the internet,” but, hopefully, in time, more people will visit. The state of the Andrew’s writing life is strong.
Two wayward mustache hairs catch a breeze from under the door and briefly touch. Andrew counts this as rapturous applause.
Andrew: Not everything this year has been a success. My decision, in early February, to convert all my dollars to Rubles turned out to be unwise. In hindsight, there were a lot of red flags surrounding my financial advisor. Literal red flags with hammers and sickles. I fired my financial advisor, Olga Gorbachev Lenin III and have since taken my investments into my own hands. I have high hopes for ObsoTech, the world’s #1 producer of floppy disks, phone booths and asbestos.
The state of the Andrew’s finances is strong.
The mustache hairs blow into a shampoo bottle. Andrew counts this as a group hug in his honor.
A loud, angry knock on the door.
Brother: Who are you talking to in there? Have you lost your goddamned mind?
Andrew: I’m talking to my friend. On the phone.
Brother: Your phone’s on the dining room table. I just walked past it.
Andrew: Please don’t do this to me right now. I’m going through a lot. Just let me have this.
Andrew’s brother groans, though that doesn’t quite capture it. It’s more like a volcano erupting, but instead of decades of pent-up magma, it’s red-hot, molten disappointment.
Andrew: I’m sorry for that interruption. With a speech of this magnitude, there’s bound to be hecklers and protestors and people insisting you’re not speaking to Congress, you’re in a bathroom and we’ve talked about this before, they’re called delusions and you are unwell and I care about you and I love you, but you need to stop this now and I can’t do this anymore and stop calling me your brother, I’m your court-appointed therapist. Luckily, security is dealing with the crazed lunatic right now.
During a brief silence, some words can be made out whispered between Andrew’s brother and father.
Brother: …lost what was left of his mind…think he’s having conversations with his piss stains…
Father: …I know some people…take care of it…familial embarrassment…Do you know the story of what they did to Rosemary Kennedy? We should-
Andrew: The state of the Andrew’s mental health is strong.
I’m now entering my third year with my beautiful, talented, illustrious girlfriend, Anna. When the numbers go down, I hope we’ll be able to see the bottom half of each other’s faces for the first time. During Covid, I moved back home to my dad’s house, as did my brother. The Robinson family reunited. It’s much like being a kid again, except now when I’m done with my chores, I drink a lot more whiskey.
The State of the Andrew’s liver is strong.
The State of the Andrew, as a whole, is strong.
We are stronger today than we were a year ago. And we will be stronger in a year than we are now. We will overcome the challenges of the enemy, Life. That’s right. Life itself has declared war on the sovereign state of Andrew. Raising the prices on Oreo Thins. Angering him with music blasted from personal speakers in public. Expecting him to have the time to both work and maintain basic hygiene.
But obstacles are only there for one reason: to be overcome. And we will.
As one series of interconnected bones with skin on it.
As one collection of bodily systems working in tandem to power the brain.
As one brain that definitely doesn’t look like Swiss cheese under an MRI.
We will prevail.
We always do.
We will defeat Life itself. We will conquer it. The prize is too great: no alarm clock. Can you imagine it? Having the means or circumstances to wake up whenever we want without a care in the world. That’s all we’re asking for. That’s all we want. This goal is a hard one, but it is attainable. We have to be steady. We have to be patient. We have to be realistic and not give into our egos with outlandish self-aggrandizing statements.
2020 was the year of the rat.
2021 was the year of the ox.
2022 will be the year of the Andrew.
Unknown Person: I don’t know, Officer. He just broke in, said he had important business to attend to and locked himself in my bathroom. He’s using three voices, but the other two are like bad, stereotypes of other races. Kind of offensive, really. And I think they’re like father and brother characters. But, if they grew up together, why would they all have different accents? I don’t think the voices are fitting the narrative. I think he needs to work on that and-
Officer: The answer to my question?
Unknown Person: Oh, sorry. Yes, I want to press charges.
Andrew: Thank you! Thank you so much! The State of the Andrew is strong.
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