In this season of 5th-grade promotions, 8th-grade promotions, high-school graduations, and college graduations, of course we need to check in with Levi’s underwater friends to hear about . . . the clam graduation.
A bildungsroman by Levi Kassinove
Food poisoning is no joke. Deep in the waters of the North Atlantic ocean, a young clam by the name of Adam fights his impending diarrhea as he struggles to finish his AP Clamculus exam. Just a few more questions, I can hold it, he thinks as his stomach produces ungodly sounds that echo throughout the high school. His consciousness fades; Satan’s army knocks at his intestines, and finally he cannot bear it any longer. Forget the integrals. Adam rushes to the bathroom. By the time he gets back, there is 5 minutes left for the exam. He curses under his breath. I think someone put laxatives in my morning fruit shake.
When the exam finished, Adam went home, barely talking to anyone. He had just endured a silent yet excruciating battle, and nobody would ever know.
Later that day, Adam burrowed in the sand and isolated himself from humaniclamity. Was he worth anything? The school year is ending, and so is clam childhood. Soon all of his friends would be in college; most would never see each other again. And, yet, his friends chose to waste precious time on ClamTok every day, every morning, every break, and every lunch. They were consumed by consumerism. Adam felt dead inside. His clamgirlfriend loved him and made him happy, of course, but Adam cared about everyone. However, he felt as if few really cared about him. Would he be missed? In college, in old age, where are those who share the memories?
Adam dozed off. He resolved that he knows nothing, and that he will merely ride the waves of the ocean. That’s really all we can do.
“DUDE, IT’S CLAM GRADUATION DAY” Adam’s phone buzzed, awakening him just 10 minutes before school started. It was his friend Jerryclam. Adam decided that he would no longer be rotten. He would suck it up (because he’s a filter feeder after all) and get to class. When he arrived, none of his friends said “Hi” to him. None even looked up from their phones. His final assignments were piling up and he couldn’t find in the deepest part of his shell the motivation to finish them. The world was ending right before his very eyes. He had already sunk to the bottom of the ocean, yet somehow he felt as if he could still sink lower.
Finally, it was time for the graduation ceremony. It was underneath a kelp forest, brimming with marine society. High above the ceremony, seahorses danced among the seaweed. A school of tuna contorted, twisted, gyrated, transformed, and molded into various 3-dimensional shapes. A squid shot its ink in the face of a small shark, and an octopus blended in perfectly with the seaweeds. Dolphins slapped and tossed a pufferfish through the air, like in a game of catch or football. Light shown in an extremely particular way through the kelp, creating a viridescent glow upon the ocean floor. But in between the kelp was a certain slant of light that reflected only off the shell of Adam. This spotlight on Adam was almost mocking, teasing, inviting him to enjoy the ceremony, inviting him to join in.
The senior class of 2024 gathered underneath the kelp. Adam was indifferent. The universe is one big ocean, with waves crashing onto you every second. He could care less about graduating. Each clam was called one by one, donning their black cloaks and wearing those square caps, to get their diplomas. Adam’s name was called. But, before he went off, his friend Christopher pulled him aside. “Hey, are you okay? I know I’ve been somewhat distant, and I’m sorry.Maybe after school we can play video games?”
Adam smiled. It was the second time he had felt any happiness that day, since Jerryclam texted him. As he took a picture with the Head of School, holding his diploma, a pearl suddenly materialized in his shell!
Adam knew at that moment that everything was going to be okay. He happily flapped his shell home. As he was approaching his crater in the sand, he got caught in a net. All of his newfound feelings of joy and revival disappeared like an octopus escaping a predator.
A few hours later, Adam was being served in a lovely garlic pasta in an upscale Italian restaurant. At least he wasn’t rotten.
I believe I might have had this shaggy clam for dinner at PizzaVino the other night. My Linguine alle Vongole was especially clever going down – and had a particularly wry aftertaste reminiscent of Balzac at his most droll – but when I followed my meal with a brisk splash of remarkably dry vermouth, I swear I could hear a faint murmur in reply from deep in my belly, a voice both mocking and teasing, and yet curiously inviting – as if our freshly swallowed Adam had somehow survived the intestinal graduation ceremony underway and was sending out an S.O.S., a voice emerging from my throat as clear and bright as a certain slant of viridescent light might illuminate a darkening day – I encouraged that voice to rise and disgorge itself from out my mouth and live to see another clambake – but alas the voice in my gut turned and headed the other way, never again to be seen, but certainly to be heard from again long before my evening was to come to a close.
At least he wasn’t rotten.
Adam would be delighted to know that his subsequent journey in your stomach has been immortalized by your comment. Wherever he may be now, we wish this hero farewell on his travels.
Clam