Hannah Dolezal: Fiction/ Roast (speech transcript)

The more seasoned attendees of Dolezal Family graduation parties might know that one of the traditional themes of my speeches is a “roast”, during which I proceed to shrewdly lay waste to the past behaviors of my siblings through several pages of uncompromising text.  However, during this event, I have opted out of the roast segment of my speech.  Hannah is quite sensitive, and I wouldn’t want to make her go crying to her mommy.  Now, the more astute among you may have realized that the previous statement was actually a mild roast in disguise, so let’s proceed to the next section…
     Hannah Elizabeth Dolezal was born on May 13^th, 1996, with a haunting smile and several obnoxious microscopic holes in her heart.  During ages zero through four, Hannah served as her brother Ben's loyal companion and rag-doll.  Playing in the side yard usually ended with Hannah screaming bloody murder and Ben acting calm and vaguely confused, muttering to himself in an unknown language.  Video evidence of these events has recently surfaced, and the footage is shocking.
     Yes, those early years were dark and traumatic, but a monumental and life-changing event was just around the bend…
     On his deathbed, Albert Einstein prophesied, "One day, there will be a young girl who will possess such incalculable intelligence and creativity, those around her will be baffled and frightened.  You will identify this marvelous youngster by her first name, which will be a palindrome, and by her last name, which will be confusing and difficult to pronounce. She will suffer from a rare medical defect known as Swiss Cheese Heart. This is the girl who shall be the recipient of my secret invention, the Nuclear Fission Heart.  She will carry on my torch and become one of the most brilliant minds of the 21st century."
     On October 23, 2001, when Hannah was five, a competent team of mad surgeons at the Milwaukee Children's Hospital attempted to install the aforementioned nuclear heart into Hannah.  I remember being on the edge of my seat in the hospital with my family, hoping and praying that the operation would be successful.  Several soul-crushing hours later, Hannah miraculously emerged…as a powerful cyborg that made Dick Cheney look like a cowering rhesus monkey.
     Since the surgery, Hannah has been a lot tougher.  From that point on, she was able to keep up with Ben during all of their activities.  The arbitrary crying fits that plagued her formative years were a thing of the past.  She had conquered death, and it was time to live.
     As Hannah grew up, I first noticed her talents and intelligence through her good sense of humor, which was dark, witty, sarcastic, satirical, obscene, hyperbolic, self-deprecating, and laced with relevant cultural critiques.  And this was when she was seven years old.
     Around that time, I left for college, and Hannah continued blossoming into a lovely young woman.  I often introduced her to new and old music when I visited.  By the time I returned, Hannah was 12, and smart as a whip, just as Einstein had predicted.  She was reading and writing constantly, thriving off of her endless supply of curiosity…as well as nuclear power.
     We went on many adventures during the subsequent years, and had many good times that usually included eating delicious vegetarian food, listening to music, discussing philosophical, sociological and cultural issues, and drinking coffee.  Once, when Hannah was 15, I was somehow conned into letting her drive me to the coffee shop.  Little did I know, it was one of the first times she had ever operated an automobile.  As one might expect, she parked behind another car and proceeded to slam her foot down onto the gas pedal instead of the break.  Luckily, the car was already in park.  Sometimes, while driving to the coffee shop, a song comes on, and Hannah says, "Hey, this reminds me of your life!"  She then proceeds to chronicle stories from our past that occurred when we first used to listen to that specific music on a regular basis.  In fact, many of the times we've shared have been accentuated by a vast arsenal of music, which has become the soundtrack to our lives. 
     Now…some of you might think the fictitious section of this speech, or the “Tale of the Nuclear Heart”, was a bit strange.  Let me explain the metaphor: To me, Hannah is a superhero.  She has special gifts, she is often mysterious – lurking in the shadows of her room – and she routinely rescues us…from boredom.
     Soon, Hannah will be crossing the border of Wisconsin, into the treacherous land of Minnesota, enthusiastic and naive, like a deer crossing the highway, in search of greener pastures. 
      I’ll miss you, sister, and I wish you the best of luck.