Meghan Jacoby

Coming from a long line of rap-loving hoodlums, Meghan decided to break from the social norm of her family tree by joining an Avant-Garde Neo Classical Punk Rock Orchestra. In said group, she learned quickly to macramé, which proved useful for her instrument: the fox. Her intense talon-ts gave her no advantages what-so-ever, so she reluctantly decided to don a “Wicked” cool personality and live out her days on a liver ranch with a gaggle of ostriches and a wild Australian man.

Paroe Dhingra

Have you ever heard a rant? We mean, a loud, incessant, blithering, blathering nonsensical rant? With some verse thrown in? And an occasional pearl of wisdom? Well, that's Paroe. Paroe at her best. Paroe at her worst. Paroe in our faces. Paroe in our ears. This lovely, charming, delighful young lady has the ferocity of an enraged tigress, the deranged cunning of a rabid fox, the talon-t of a poetess possessed. She is our furture Poetess Laureate, America's Damsel of Verse - the reason the Muses are in business, the reason the rest of us are going out of business. Paroe just simply is. And why you are not.

Dylan Melone

Dylan is so confused.

Chasity Hamilton

We have no idea who this person is. All week long, while editing the Talon, editors have been taking roll and trying to figure out not only where Chasity is, but who she is! And...who the person is who is sitting here telling all of us how to live our lives, with whom to live them, how to be happy, and why we should listen to leaves crackle while undressing turnips in front of Mr. Noland's subs. Actually, we do know who Chasity is: she is Tierney Ragsdale's nemesis, her worst nightmare, her alter-ego, and...unfortunately...her best friend. We don't get it. Neither one of them is intelligent; neither has any talon-t; and neither is capable of holding a Dr. Pepper without its spilling and spraying all over the room, its inhabitants, and the page you are reading right now. Chasity is going to seven colleges next year, taking a "favorite" course in each, and coasting across the country in the process. Rumor has it she will end up in Washington state, not because she wants to be there necessarily, but because it is as far away as humanly possible from Mr. Legg.

Brett Bond

Born and raised in the woods (by the woods), Brett developed superhuman powers at a young age. In his childhood, he reputedly beat up Chuck Norris, walked all the way to Hawaii, and translated the entire body of Socrates’s writings into modern Whaleish (not to be confused with the country Wales) sign language (as whales have no faces). Since then he has formed his own Fight Club, becoming a black-belt in Ninja Warrior-fu with the help of the midgets Jake Allison and Cameron Kukililililik. Brett has long made a habit of feasting only on the collected countenance of an aptly enamored preschool class, and repays them in true vampiric fashion by educating them in the ways of American Transcendentalists. Canonized by the Roman Catholics in 1666, Brett is widely worshipped as the tallest prophet of God(s). In his leisure time, he adorns his Native American teepee with puppies and bubbles. Brett Bond never thinks about the future, which makes for excellent conversation.

Tierney Ragsdale

Having been tossed out of seventeen schools the past two years for her loud, obstreperous behavior, Tierney landed at Briar Woods, where she penetrated the upper echelons of poetic brilliance by turning in and signing her name to a barrage of Sylvia Plath poems. Pairing with quiet, subdued, taciturn, laconic Chasity Hamilton, Tierney lobbied heavily to have Mr. Sacco replace Mr. Starzenski as school principal, a move paralleled by her own Poetry Club coup in which she and Chasity launched Dylan Melone out of a second story window...and began rhyming words with "slat," "bam," and "omygoodnesswhathavewedone." Tierney has decided not to attend college next year, turning down a four-year free ride for football, in order to concentrate on getting Chasity to open up, share her feelings, and "simply talk more."

Kathleen Bechtold

Mr. Noland is so proud that Kathleen actually considered turning in a homework assignment this year, a feat surpassing her inclination last year almost to do one thing in Mr. Legg's class. Alas, KB's record of doing absolutely nothing that has anything to do with the word "assignment" remains intact. She continues to haunt poetry club with her incessant wit and wisdom; and completely, totally, absolutely, and indomitably dominates Ryan Esch when it comes to the application of editorial expertise. As for her inclination toward matters clandestine, several of Tierney Ragsdale's superb poems are now adorned with the Bechtold signature; and Chasity Hamilton's ground-breaking leaf-cracking-listening sense therapy exercises have been commandeered by KB, who loves to follow Richard Tsai whenever Creative Writing class launches its annual parking lot field trip.

Ryan Esch

Originally conceived as an eighteen-syllable haiku, Ryan Esch metamorphosed into a Tralfamadorian after a nightlong argument with Zach Boucher over whether or not Gregor Samsa exercised free will. The really neat thing about higher education in this country is that at least one college will take Ryan next year, and Ryan promises not only to run the place (whatever and wherever it is) by the end of his sophomore year, but also to siphon Nikki Ivey's school funds in order to finance a Pacific Ocean "field" trip with his good buddy Brett Pi. In Ryan's case, famous quotes and phrases simply do not apply, unless one bends the tenses enough to have them read more accurately; for example, "So it went." That amended aphorism just about sums up Ryan's talon-t.