Table of Contents

FICTION 2

NON - FICTION 9

SCREEN 13

POETRY 20

1

ISSUE .5

II

IX

XIII

XX

Artwork

D. Mullins Galactic Gondola 8 Maui Wowie 12 Symbiosis 19 Tangerine 21

K. Garagan Haida Gwaii at Dawn 4 Something About Paradise 11 The Gardener 22

C. Dom The Devil Herself 3

MAR. 2 ‘16

MAR. 2 ‘16

Some FridayAdam Chan

As I sat over the toilet seat I wondered just exactly how I got there. Was it the tequila? Or maybe the weed? Probably the tequila. I sit there, trying to recollect the night, discover-ing memories inside memories like an alcoholic babushka doll. Mmm no more shots tonight, I conclude. Then I feel some pressure ascend my chest, and in that split second I question - Should I choke it down? Or puke a little more up? And in that instant the decision is made for me as I discharge just a little bit more of that night’s five-dollar burrito. Yum. I lazily flush the toilet and rest my head in the cushiony space of my elbow. This wouldn’t be a bad place to sleep, I think. But my midnight nap is interrupted. “You okay in there?” Someone asks through the bathroom door. “Yeah I’m good” I’m fairly certain I say. “Okay, just checking.” The voice responds.

Deciding that the show must go on, I attempt the complex maneuver of standing. The floor sways slightly, but I trust in my veteran sea-legs. I rise. Without grace, I make it to the sink, and examine my face in the mirror. Lookin’ good, the tequila assures me, and I give my mouth a thorough rinse.

Out of the bathroom and into the light, I return to cheers and laughter. No one was expecting a resurrection. Excitedly, I’m ushered into the next beer pong game, and miss every single shot. Oops. I’m quickly ushered out.

Walking away from the game I find a group of my friends sitting in a circle and plop down beside them. Without even hearing the joke, the laughter of the group infects me and my lungs burn for air and my cheeks hurt from smiling.

The next morning I emerge from my slumber and peer out into the post-party carnage. It looks rather like someone dropped a ‘fun-nuke’ on the house, overturning red cups and producing mysterious stains. That’s not blood, right? In the faces of friends I spot the signs of bad decisions and worse hangovers, and smile. I lie back down, groggy, thirsty, and eager to do it all again.

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Colten Dom

The Devil Herself, 2014mixed media

3

Katie Garagan

Haida Gwaii at Dawn, 2016photography

4

My Bear LadyPart II

Emily Collis

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Elise pulled open the door to the Madison recreation center and was immediately greet-ed with a rush of warmth and the smell of chlorine. When she had first started working there, she hated the chemicals that hung heavy in the air; it sunk into her clothes, buried itself into the weave of the fabric and by the end of her shift, she smelled like a pool and sweaty socks. But after a while, she began to see it as a comfort. The rec center was a warm little cocoon, an enclosed world of happy kids going for a swim or a skate, teenagers getting in their daily workout, parents chatting over cups of cheap coffee. During the summer, the sun shone through the large glass windows and lit up the building in brilliant white glow. They barely needed any artificial lights. In the winter, the center was a shelter against the harsh cold and freezing rain. Madison’s indoor heating was better than the coziest blanket. And, most importantly, the rec center was the only place where Elise could comfortably interact with other people. She had many pleasant conversations with the patrons. Some chil-dren who attended classes recognized her face and would wave to her as their par-ents punched their frequent visitor cards. She would watch the daycare center march through the lobby with their yellow pinnies over their little felt jackets, led in front and followed in back by a teaching assistant. Elise was never late to work, in fact, she was often twenty minutes early. She

didn’t mind. Better early than late. When she approached the front desk, she saw her co-worker, Trudy, engaged with a computer screen. Elise leaned over the counter. “Are you winning?” Trudy was infamous for playing backgammon during the slow hours of her shift. “Why, whatever do you mean?” Trudy said in mock innocence. She laughed. “It’s soli-taire today. And actually, I’m holding my own.” Elise lifted her purse over the count-er and dropped it on the floor. “Never been good at those computer games,” she re-marked. She went through the turnstile and sat on her swivel-chair next to Trudy. She logged into the computer even though there was nothing really for her to do. It was Tuesday, her afternoon shift. The kids were still in school so the only activity they’d see for the next four hours were adults and the occasional teenager skipping class. “Do anything exciting last night?” Trudy said. Elise scoffed. “Me? Exciting?” “I thought I’d ask, just in case.”

Elise couldn’t help but no-tice how tightly she gripped the box. Part of her hoped it would end up this way.

“How was last weekend?” Elise asked. “You’re fifty-six years young, is that right?” “Oh lordy, don’t remind me.” Trudy tapped a pen against the counter. “It was good! Celine made a cake from scratch—I told you her bakery’s really taking off, right? And here I thought culinary school was a mistake for her, that proves how wrong I was. Anyway, and my nephew was able to come this time and he made me the sweetest little card. It was so nice to have the whole family under one roof. Except for Rufus, of course, did I tell you about Rufus? He’s on his fishing boat somewhere out in Alaska.” “Sounds like a good time.” Elise hadn’t meant the statement to sound insincere, but the last time she’d had a house that full of friends and family was when her mother passed away. Even then, they didn’t stay. Hearing about Trudy’s busy household seemed like a delib-erate and bitter jab...even though it wasn’t.Elise realized she was staring through the window at an empty dance studio. She snapped herself out of it. “I got you something,” she bent down to her purse. “I know it’s a little late,” she dug through it for a fuchsia-coloured box. “But I had a hard time finding something right.” She pulled out the box, neatly tied with ribbon, and presented it to Trudy. “Happy birthday...three days late.” “Oh!” Trudy put a hand to her concave breast. “You shouldn’t have, really.” She untied the ribbon and opened the box. “It took me a long time to find her,” said Elise. “You wouldn’t believe the rotten selec-tion they have these days, all terrible—cheap—foam-stuffed crap from China.” “Oh,” Trudy’s smile was thin as she unveiled the plush bear. “How sweet. Thank you, it was very thoughtful of you, but I really haven’t got room for any more decorations...You like stuffed animals, don’t you? Why don’t you take him?” Elise’s hand twitched as for an instant, she imagined herself lunging forward and snatching the bear from Trudy’s hands. Instead, she restrained herself. “Are you sure?” she said. “I’d hate to be an Indian-giver,” she added under her breath; “or whatever it is that peo-ple say these days that’s ‘politically correct.’” “No, no, it’s alright,” said Trudy. “As they say, it’s the thought that counts. Do you want him?” “I think I can make room for her,” said Elise. Her fingernails scratched the desktop in anticipation. “As long as you’re sure.” “Of course, dear.” Trudy handed over the box. Elise couldn’t help but notice how tightly she gripped the box. Part of her hoped it would end up this way. Now that the bear was in her hands, she was afraid to let her out of her sight. Maybe Trudy would change her mind. But it was likely she wouldn’t. What ful-ly-grown adult in their right mind would still want a stuffed animal? Perhaps, Elise considered, she wasn’t in her right mind. But none of that mattered. She had the bear. And she needed a name if she was going to join Elise’s family. The bear consumed Elise’s thoughts for most of her shift. She spent the quiet hours re-

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-searching a name; it had to be appropriate. Something that described her personality, some-thing that had a significant meaning. Elise had to look at the bear and know that the name fit. After that, her thoughts turned to where she would place the bear in her home. In her mind, she went through her house trying to remember an empty spot or a place where she could make room. Maybe by the television set, no that was too cold, too far away from the heart of the house. She could find some room in the kitchen, but no, she couldn’t risk the bear getting stained or dirtied when she cooked. There was certainly no room in the bedroom, not unless she evicted one of her darlings, and she could never do a thing like that. She’d have to decide later. All she knew is that little Jemima was coming home with her. She could not be happier.

7

David Mullins

Galactic Gondola, 2016digital media

8

First Fishing ExcursionsKatie Garagan

Hooks herring Haida Gwaii fluorescent hats first fish fish blood mallets scales rods hogs soda pop and beer at 9am bites Khoi like the fish and holding the kid so he doesn’t go over-board, constantly, since he’s a miniature of his age we have to hold him and reel for him so he doesn’t drown, and instead, catches lots of fish. “We catching lots of fish today?” Eyes wide and sugared up from breakfast. Then: “I’m sitting with you on the boat!” He skips along the dock. Up and down like a pogo stick. Squeezes my hand tight so as not to slide into the frigid water with the fish and the crabs. He lugs his lunch bag down the dock. A fluorescent yellow toque – like the head condoms you wear under a hockey helmet– pulled over his brow a blue windbreaker and blue sweats shoved into wetsuit-mesh gum-boots. He’s eight years old but stands shoulder to knob with every door he parades past. Khoi the guide, a good looking fellow, half-Philippine wearing a baseball cap labelled Peregrine Lodge forward like a champ– he’s short too– grabs the kid un-der his pits and plops him onto the boat. The kid bounces around like a Beyblade while Khoi’s eyes widen as if to say this is going to be a long day. “Sasha,” I say. “What?” Voice squeaky like his brother’s at that age. “Sit before you hurt yourself.” He sits. We stash the lunch bags inside where the broken toilet is and I hope I won’t have to use it that day then we sit and wait for the horn to sound–it’s like a hockey buzzer–so we can race to the grounds. I zip up my oversized red life-coat and lift the kid onto my lap… the buzzer sounds and we watch the water kick up from the propeller, leaving streams of white water. The kid just goes and goes high energy from the caffeine and sugar in his soda pop and breakfast he just goes until he hits the wall then crashes in a mess of grouchy and cute pudgy cheeks. On the boat wasn’t different. With rods dropped off of Bird Rock he watched the back rod in this weird lip-biting, whole-body-vibrating way he just kept watching waiting for the rod to go like bam tip pierces the water and reel starts running zzzzzzzzzz. “Bite! Bite! Bite!” I get the rod and reel like mad let er’ run and reel like mad. The kid runs laps around the port bow and back again; he can’t get past me reeling like mad – not enough space. “Sasha! Come here.” I say. “Okay!” He says. He slides under my arm and his hand under mine to reel with me since he’s too young and weak to do it alone–I mean these fish are huge; 15 to 60lbs–and reels with me around

9

and around until we let go and let er’ run. He gets tired and buggers off to watch the back rod again, lip-biting, whole-body-vibrating then the fish comes in; blue green scales glimmer-ing under the water we net it and pull it in the boat. The kid jumps up and down–a pogo stick again–and “woooo it’s a hog!” Khoi says and hands the kid the mallet. “Bash it” he says. “One hard smack on the head above its eyes.” The kid grabs it and starts wailing on the poor fish and it just won’t die but he keeps smacking–a little grin grows on his face that worries us all. Bloodthirsty, we agree and take the mallet. Khoi bashes it once and the thing’s eyes bulge out–in one swift pop–from its sockets like a cartoon…I half wait for cartoon X’s on the eyes and a tongue to slip out but nothing. Khoi measures the fish, says it’s a tyee – chinook over 30lbs – and congratulates me. I tell the kid I couldn’t have done it without him, we drop the fish into the cooler and high five at 9am. I crack a beer and the kid cracks a soda pop; we’re ready to relax.

10

Katie Garagan

Something About Paradise, 2016photography

11

David Mullins

Maui Wowie, 2016digital media

12

HowlSpencer Thompson EXT. RESIDENTIAL PARK - NIGHT

FADE IN:

SERIES OF SHOTS:

>> The Radiant MOON in a clear night sky.

>> Tall pine trees. Something is howling.

>> Leaves rustle.

>> A warm breath in the cold night distorts the Radiant

MOON.

>> A boys mouth. He begins to howl.

>> Reveal: JONAH (12, tall and lanky) on all fours.

Jonah sits in a field alone and gazes at the MOON.

He howls.

Jonah digs a tiny hole in the field and pants like a dog.

Jonah howls again. He darts his head around.

Nothing occurs.

Jonah sighs and stands on his two feet.

INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

The following night, Jonah sits on a couch with his body

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forward, feet planted to the ground. The TV in front of him

is blaring. A documentary about a pack of wolves is playing.

TV HOST

Wolves treat other pack wolves like

family. Everyone has each others

back.

ON TV: A WOLF defends another WOLF from a grizzly bear.

TV HOST

Wolves are equipped with a keen

sense of community and respect.

ON TV: An INJURED WOLF is tended to by a pack member.

TV HOST

In some cases wolves will take in

abandoned wolves.

Jonah howls at the TV.

DICK (O.S.)

You better be howling at your

textbooks.

Dick (Jonah’s father, 45) charges down the flight of stairs

behind the couch. He stands in front of the TV.

Jonah bobs his head around his father to catch a glimpse of

the TV screen.

DICK

Start studying god dammit!

Jonah launches to the ground and sticks his head between his

fathers legs to stare at the TV.

Dick picks up Jonah by the back of his T-shirt.

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Dick throws Jonah across the room.

Jonah soars through the air like SUPERMAN.

Jonah crashes into the wall, head first.

DICK

Just listen Jonah. Listen.

Jonah gets to his two feet. He zips up his hoodie.

FRONT DOOR

Jonah slips on a pair of old sneakers.

JONAH’S POV - FRONT DOOR

He twists the doorknob.

A large hand slams the door shut.

DICK

Upstairs. Now.

Jonah and Dick lock eyes with each other.

Jonah flings his shoes off and sprints up the flight of

stairs.

INT. JONAH’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Jonah lays on his bed. His room is in pristine condition.

Posters of wolves fill the white space.

JONAH’S POV - CEILING WINDOW

Glow in the dark stars illuminate a border around the

window. A dark and clear night.

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SIDE WINDOW

Jonah gingerly lifts the sliding window. He slithers through

and steps onto his back lawn.

EXT. RESIDENTIAL PARK - NIGHT

Jonah sits on all fours in between a set of swings. He howls

at the moon. Suddenly:

FOOTSTEPS

On the distant gravel path.

JONAH

Howls louder.

GROWLS

Appear louder with every step.

THE SWINGS

Knock back and forth.

A LIGHT

Is shone directly at Jonah.

DISTANT PERSON (O.S.)

You can’t be here kid!

Jonah gets on his feet and sprints in the other direction.

INT. SCHOOL BUS - DAY

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The packed school bus makes its last stop. Jonah gets up

from his seat and exits through the main corridor. He is

wearing a coonskin hat.

Students exit the bus in single file.

Jonah approaches the front of the bus.

As he exits, he is pushed down the stairs and onto the

street.

EXT. SCHOOL BUS STOP - DAY

Jonah gets to his feet and speed walks away from the scene.

RON (13, tall and freckled) catches up to Jonah and stands

in front of him.

Jonah crouches and curls his fingers.

Ron laughs.

Jonah growls.

Ron cannot control his laughter.

Jonah pushes Ron aside and sprints.

EXT. RESIDENTIAL PARK - DAY

Jonah enters the bush beside the playground. He pushes his

way through the branches. He finds a patch of leaves

enshrouded by tall pine trees.

He throws his backpack to the ground and gets on all fours.

Jonah points his nose to the sky and howls repeatedly.

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No response.

Jonah sighs.

He gets to his feet and turns around. Suddenly:

LEAVES RUSTLE

Four wolves stand in formation behind him. Jonah gets on all

fours.

The alpha male and Jonah lock eyes.

Slowly, the WOLF approaches him.

Jonah reaches out for its snout.

The WOLF pounces on Jonah pinning his arms down. SALIVA

trickles onto Jonah’s cheeks.

Jonah squirms and shouts.

The wolf reveals its fangs. Suddenly:

WHACK

The wolf and its pack retreat.

Ron hovers over Jonah. He drops a baseball bat.

Ron offers his hand to Jonah.

Jonah grabs onto it.

BLACKOUT.

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David Mullins

Symbiosis, 2016digital media

19

I’m Standing on the Beach Again (Cadboro Bay)Karel IV

Waterfowl stalled by the squallsVagrant gulls and cormorantsObsidian plateauSapphire plainWaves arise and dropAt the mercy of the moon Bountiful gusts slide off the seaWhat has the ocean brought for me?Lumps of weedClumps of kelpOrphaned woodNeglected shells In fog’s domainHorns blow all nightOn cloudy daysOf black and greyFar off lights flickerRed and white

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David Mullins

Tangerine, 2016digital media

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Katie Garagan

The Gardener, 2016photography

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Silver ScreenColten Dom

Hallowed Be Thy Moonscape

Beatify Thy Stony Shores

… … …

lips

silver on the tips of your mouth and eyes and

the kiss we shared over the headlight at the drive-in

Struck b r e a t h l e s s in the heated moonscape

with a vision of you

I blew it

blown it

I should have made you mine

should have forced the order with you

could have been poor and desperate with you

driving-white-knuckled-across-the-shores-of-our-souls

Crazed with the heat it’s crazy I know

But how can I forget

the million tender moments

the million arguments

the million touches … … …

despite-apparent-breathing-have-yet-to-make-the-decision

to-live

Your beautiful skin touching my back drawing me

to surface bang! …

Your volcano fingers your honky

tonk

Christ!— I can’t I can’t kiss

even in memory too sweet

too good

the body aches and curves

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STAFF CORNER

Argot is pleased to present our fifth issue, and the penultimate issue of the season. Big

thanks to our submitting poets and artists; I am truly astounded by the quality of the artwork

and photography from this month. While putting it together, I found myself staring at pieces

like Galactic Gondola, or pondering the vivacious imagery in I’m Standing on the Shore Again

(Cadboro Bay). As always, such a pleasure to work with all these talented people.

I would also like to implore our readers to stick around for this year’s finale— it’s prom-

ising to be an absolute gem with tons of exciting features and works to last you all summer

long! Look forward to it.

Finally, cheers to the staff. Looking forward to the end of year party.

Dream big,

Colten Dom

Editor-In-Chief

“Argot is a digital publication built from submissions by the youth of Victoria,

B.C. We are a non-profit specializing in giving students and writers from all back-

grounds publication experience; from working in-depth with our talented editors

to actual publication, our aim is working together to produce a monthly collec-

tive of literary merit.”

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Cover by Katie Garagan

Contributing Writers and Artists:

Karel IV

David Mullins

STAFF

Colten Dom: Editor-in-Chief

Katie Garagan: Fiction, Poetry Editor

Adam Chan: CNF, Screen Editor

Emily Collis: Contributing Author

Spencer Thompson: Contributing Author

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Want to submit? Go to

http://argotcollective.com/submissions/

to view the guidelines, and email your work to

submissions.argotstaff@gmail.com

Questions? Email us at

argotstaff@gmail.com

to find out more!