(See the end of the chapter for more notes .)

I have no idea where this is going. Don't expect a coherent plot.

Chapter Text

A cold front begins to roll in. Heavy grey clouds mass in the skies overhead. The cheery, multicolored letters announcing ‘Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe’ have long begun to flake away under the twin forces of weather and time. Inside the old diner, two young boys sit across from one other. A light rain begins.

Jughead Jones opens his faux-leather bound journal. The pages are beginning to yellow, curling at the corners. Though he’s owned it for more than a year, it’s less than half full of his scribblings. He tries to conserve space best he can. After all, it’s not like he’ll soon have enough money to spend on another one. Thrift. That’s the key to surviving in these tumultuous times.

He scrawls the date in the corner of the page.

November 20th, 1935

Our story is about a town, but beyond that, it’s the story of a nation, and a world. A world changing with greater speed and greater intensity than anyone might have ever imagined. Or dreaded. The optimistic reveries and Pollyanna dreams of the decades past have vanished in the face of an impossibly grim reality. In this country alone, one fourth of workingmen are out of a job. Across the seas, entire nations fold under the brutal might of destitution and poverty. Dictatorship rears its head and threatens to trample first Europe, then the world, underfoot. The future is marked by crooked crosses and scarlet flags.

Even here, in picturesque Riverdale, safely ensconced in the land of the free, the travails of the world make themselves known.

Our story begins with the Blossom family, and in particular with the strike called by the laborers employed by Clifford Blossom’s nation-wide maple syrup empire. Like in so many towns throughout America, the class divisions and tensions in Riverdale ra-

“I just don’t know, Jug. I get that going after music is kind of a fool’s errand in this economy, but it’s my passion.”

Jughead looks up for a moment, his pencil ceasing its dance over the paper. “Archie I’m kind of busy.”

The class divisions and tensions in Riverdale ran deep. On one side, there was the happy, clean-cut face of Riverdale. The Northside. Populated by cheery, all American, middle-class suburbanites. They ran their small businesses, raised their wholesome, fresh faced sons and daughters, kept their lawns immaculate, and made up one little disc in the backbone of our proud nation. On the other side, there was the unsavoury element that made this lifestyle possible. The Southside. Populated by poor day laborers, destitute bums, petty criminals, an-

“My dad really wants me to take up the family business. And I get it. It’s been in the Andrews family for generations. But I just don’t think that’s me.”

Jughead stops writing again. He fixes his friend with an exasperated stare.

“Archie. Listen to me. We are in the middle of the worst economic downturn in history. Half of this country is unemployed. Crops are rotting in the fields. Democracy is crumbling in Europe. Fascists are bombing Abyssinia into ash. I don’t want to sound rude, but you really have to ask yourself, ‘what are the biggest problems right now?’

Archie looks back at Jughead. He runs a hand through his ginger hair. He blinks. There’s a moment of silence.

“So you’re saying I should pursue my music?”

“For fuck’s sake.”