While walking through my neighborhood on a chilly, winter day, you will never believe what I saw!

I was strolling along, admiring the snowy blanket on the trees, when, out of nowhere, a giant ball of slime appeared in front of me!

I yelped, grabbing a packet of Clorox wipes from my pocket. “Who are you, and what are you doing in my neighborhood?!”

The thing responded, calm and collected. “Now, now. No need to get the disinfectant out. I am the Coronavirus. But I am also known as COVID-19, Corona, COVID, ‘Rona, and Kung Flu. Pleased to meet you!” The Coronavirus held out his hand, expecting me to shake it.

“Nah, I’m good, thanks,” I said, putting the Clorox wipes back where I found them. I observed the Coronavirus carefully.

He was a giant sphere of green slime, with green gas swirling all around him. His face was abstract, and it blended in with the rest of his body when he wasn’t speaking. His only limbs were two stubby little arms.

“Now, let’s get down to business,” The Coronavirus said. A colorful graph appeared in his hand with a pop. “As you probably know, I recently started a global pandemic. And I quite honestly don’t know why, but this has made people think they should buy a ton of toilet paper. Now there’s a national toilet paper shortage. I need you to get me some, ‘cuz I can’t find it anywhere.”
I shook my head. “You’re not making any sense, ‘Rona.”

He pointed to the graph. “Look here.The blue line shows the average toilet paper sales of 2019. Pretty good, right? Well, the red line shows the average toilet paper sales of 2020. Crazy! People are buying toilet paper left and right. I need you to get me all the toilet paper you can.”

I sighed. “What’s in it for me?” I asked.

The graph disappeared with another pop. “Anne Marie, here’s the dealio. If you don’t get me 1,000 rolls of toilet paper and bring them back here by midnight, quarantine will last forever.” The Coronavirus said this as if it was an everyday comment.
My heart pounded in my ears. “But, ‘Rona, why 1,000? Why midnight? Why me?”

The Coronavirus obviously had other things to do. “My gosh, you ask a lot of questions! Here’s a magic backpack to hold all of the toilet paper. And, 2020 is just unpredictable. You should know that by now, Anne Marie.” With that, the Coronavirus disappeared, and all I was left with was the backpack.

I glanced at the watch on my wrist and took a deep breath. It was 12:00 PM. I only had 12 hours to get 1,000 rolls of toilet paper, as an 11-year-old, and during a pandemic. What could go wrong?

I planned to go to Costco for toilet paper. Surely, that warehouse of a grocery store would have some. But right before I retrieved my bike, my dad, sipping his noon coffee, asked me, “Where are you going, Anne Marie?”

I stopped dead in my tracks and turned around. I looked him right in the eyes. They were tired, full of honesty. My palms began to sweat. “I’m going for a quick bike ride,” I said.

“Ok,” My dad answered. “Carry on.”

I tiptoed, jumping at every little noise I heard. I mounted my bicycle and set off to Costco. I began to wonder if any of this was legal.

After what seemed like an eternity, I was pulling into Costco. I parked my little purple bicycle in a bike rack, and shuffled inside.
When I walked into the store, I was greeted by the sudden realization that I was being watched. As I strolled past the towering metal shelves and piercing lights, I tried to ignore all the people who were staring at me.

I finally reached the toilet paper aisle. I inspected all of the different brands, pondering, would the Coronavirus like Cottonelle? Or is he a Charmin kind of guy?

Without warning, a hand tapped me sharply on the shoulder. I turned to see a thin, petite woman with short blonde hair. She had a look of evil on her face.

“Hi. Uh, who are you?” I asked her.

“I am Karen.” She answered.

“Do you have a last name?”

“No. I’m just Karen.” She rolled her eyes impatiently. “Young lady, are you shopping alone? Do you have any parental supervision? Are you leaving any toilet paper for the rest of us? This is pretty sus. Do I need to speak with the manager?” Karen began waving over a tall, tough-faced dude in a Costco uniform. “Hello? Mr. Manager? Yes, I need some assistance here!”

My heart pounded. This was exactly what I didn’t want to happen. I had to think quickly before I got in trouble. My eyes scanned the area. People, shopping carts, shelves… That’s it! Shelves!

I took a deep breath and glanced at Karen, who was arguing with the manager, before climbing a tall shelving unit of toilet paper. They couldn’t get me if they couldn’t find me.

My forehead nearly dripped with sweat as I hauled myself onto the last platform. I dared to look down, and was relieved to see that Karen was still arguing with the manager. “Phew.”

I gathered my thoughts and decided to get all of the toilet paper from this platform, first, and stay away from Karen as long as possible. I began grabbing packages of soft white TP and stuffing them into my backpack.

Before long, I was interrupted by a voice coming from a small structure made of toilet paper. I peered through a hole in the structure and was surprised to see four dudes sitting inside. They all wore sweatshirts that said in big, cartoony letters, MrBeast.
“Excuse me, but are you taking away our toilet paper?” One of the dudes said. “We’re making a YouTube video. Last to leave the toilet paper fort wins $10,000.”

I scowled. “Oh, uh. That’s cool.” Despite his explanation, I kept on taking the toilet paper, faster than before.
“Hey, hey, hey! Stop!” The dudes yelled. “We can’t win the money if we don’t have the fort!” They scrambled out of the structure and hurtled towards me.

I stood on the edge of the platform and time seemed to stand still. Costco was mute. My brain was calm. But, the words of The Coronavirus rang in my ears. Quarantine will last forever…...quarantine will last forever…...quarantine will last forever. I only had one option.

I jumped.

It wasn’t the most graceful fall. I skidded through a stack of cereal boxes and landed in the middle of a group of teenage girls making TikToks. While they all did the renegade together, I had a small army of people looking for me.

I rubbed a bruise on my face, blinked back tears, and tried to make a plan. Karen was coming at me from northern Costco, and the four guys were coming from eastern Costco. In the south, there was nothing but the freezer section. I struggled to look in the west. There were so many toilet paper rolls stacked high in grocery carts, I couldn’t see a thing. Hold up… toilet paper!
I didn’t care that it was illegal, all I knew was that I was stopping quarantine from happening for eternity. I pushed past the teenage girls and grabbed all the toilet paper I could from customers’ shopping carts. Then I dashed for the exit, praying that I had enough.

A mob of angry customers and employees broke out. They aggressively chased me to the spot where I had parked my bike. It was then that I realized the bike rack was empty- my only method of transportation, stolen!

Could this day get any worse? I asked myself.

Yes. It could. I glanced over my shoulder to see the sun setting behind Costco. I didn’t have much longer to get my toilet paper home.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a vent in the sidewalk. Visions of the video game Among Us flashed in my head. In the game, players could use vents to quickly get from one place to another. Could I really get home if I hopped in that vent? I at least had to try.

Face scrunched up, I pried open the vent and climbed inside. It was dark and dusty, like a bat cave. But I couldn’t observe the scenery too long- everything began to rumble, and I was pulled into a world of colors and lights.

I started to feel sick as reds and purples and yellows flashed before my eyes. Had I gone into the right vent?

Then, before I could make any more predictions, I landed in a jumble on the cement sidewalk in my neighborhood. Yes! I was back! I made it out alive!.

Within seconds, The Coronavirus appeared in front of me with a pop.

“Ah, Anne Marie! You’re here! With moments to spare,” He said.

“Yeah.” I answered. “And I have your toilet paper.” I handed over the backpack, wondering if I had grabbed enough TP.

“Mhm.” The Coronavirus mumbled, shuffling his little arm around in the backpack. “Hmm. I see. Well, Anne Marie, I have some bad news for you.”

“What is it?” I asked him.

He chuckled. “Just kidding. You got all 1,000 rolls of toilet paper. I quite honestly didn’t think you could do it. But, seeing as I’m a man of my word, quarantine will continue as naturally planned.”

I sighed in relief. “Really? Oh, that’s great. Thank you so much, Mr. Coronavirus!”

He smiled. “You’re welcome. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some global chaos to commence.” And just as mysteriously as he came to my house, The Coronavirus left.

I was more tired than I’d ever been, but that day, I learned a lesson or two. Sometimes life can give you a brand of toilet paper that you don’t like, or you’re not used to. But you just have to roll with it and find the good parts.