I was kicked out of more classes than most people attended. It was always “Benny, normal people don’t do that” or “Benny, go wash your mouth out with soap. Foul language is not allowed in this classroom!” I couldn’t help it. I was missing some sort of filter. The words would just spontaneously fall out of my mouth. They seemed natural. I didn’t mean to offend anyone when I grabbed my crotch. It was an involuntary spasm, just like my blinking and grimacing. The kids in grade school were brutal. They just didn’t understand. I probably made it worse when I’d beat the shit out of them when they made fun of me. It isolated many potential friends. Yet my foul jokes, boyish smile and unfiltered mouth were a hit with the girls Go figure! Unlike most guys I would tell them exactly what I was thinking and what I wanted to do, and they loved it! They thought my tics were cute. Of course, there was James and Teddy. They were my best buds. We had many misadventures over the years. They would laugh at my harebrained ideas but always went along with them. I wouldn’t say they were followers. Both have had successful professional careers as a doctors. They were more enablers. James was the silent handsome type. Tall, athletic and swarthy, he was considered a heartthrob. I know he was pissed that he’d attract the girls and I’d walk away with them. He was too nice a guy and sort of shy. I guess I’m just an asshole. Teddy was the real brain. He was smarter than any of us. Always first in the class, he could do anything well. He played a mean guitar, wrote poetry and had a damned good singing voice. His flaming red hair and great laugh made him stand out in the crowd. He loved adventures and always added interesting twists and suggestions to make my ideas more daring and fun. One of my favorite memories of grade school was a soccer game. I was kicked out of Mr. Petlock’s grade eight class for swearing, talking out of turn or some other misdemeanor. There were so many, I can’t remember. Well, there were at least six of us from different grades who were ejected from our respective classes. We had a soccer ball and all we needed was a couple more guys to have a respectable game in the schoolyard. I didn’t think twice about knocking on Mr. Petlock’s classroom door and very nicely asking: “Can you let James and Teddy come out and play? We need two more players for a soccer game.” Part of me knew that it was inappropriate, but I couldn’t help myself. Despite my nervous blinking. I maintained my angelic smile. The class erupted with laughter. By this grade almost everyone found me entertaining. Teddy and James rose from their seats and Mr. Petlock kicked them out. We had a good game lasting most of the afternoon. Mr. P. really was a good guy. I think deep down he was amused. It didn’t hurt that the three of us consistently had the highest grades on most tests. You see, that has been my get out of jail free card. I did well in school despite my many misdemeanors. Teachers and principals repeatedly told me I was wasting my talents and possibly ruining my life with my behavior. It didn’t stop several colleges from offering me scholarships. However, it probably did turn off the Ivy league schools that Teddy and James attended. The university of Illinois was good enough for me. Besides, they had a good wrestling program. Oh yeah, I’m five foot eight and have been lifting weights and wrestling since I was ten. Some would say that I am muscle bound. I guess I have short man syndrome and have compensated for all the teasing I experienced at a young age. The three musketeers were apart for six years. Teddy was at Harvard and James was at Stanford. We all were accepted to our respective schools’ medical program. Teddy and James breezed through medical school with top marks. I, on the other hand, had to work my ass off just to stand somewhere in the middle of the class pecking order. All that hard work prevented me from acting out too much. My classmates were too busy to notice my tics are us act. My occasional outbursts in the front of the class just seem to break the tension of the day-to-day grind. My classmates loved my daily act of crushing a soda can on my forehead and doing a little jig just before our professor arrived. The girls of course thought I was cute and didn’t mind my ‘potty mouth’. Professors ignored my profane outbursts most of the time. I tried to restrain myself as best as I could but not always successfully. I really wanted to be a doctor and didn’t want to be kicked out of medical school. Still there was the time our dermatology professor asked the class for a definition of acne. My answer of ‘backed up sperm’ drew gasps from my classmates. Fortunately, the professor ignored me and chose another classmate’s answer. Dr. Sebaceous always struck me as a young stuffy guy in an expensive suit. I didn’t think he had a sense of humor but maybe I was wrong. To my surprise, at the end of medical school, I was accepted to the Harbor General Internal Medicine program in Torrance California. It was a prestigious UCLA affiliated residency. James and Teddy had their pick of programs but decided to reunite with me. James chose the Harbor General orthopedic surgery residency and Teddy their radiology program. I was thrilled. The boys were back together again and in Southern California. Let the fun begin! We rented a three-bedroom apartment three blocks from the ocean in Manhattan beach. I had my wingmen. With James’ looks, Teddy’s brain and my mouth, I knew the good times would roll. I didn’t account for how time consuming and exhausting our training programs would be. There was little time for partying or adventures. It did not stop me from having fun with patients. Harbor General was a county hospital and catered to the indigent. Medical residents had more autonomy than at a private hospital, It was perfect for a rebel like me. Attendings appreciated my work ethic and knowledge base and ignored my outbursts. In fact, some seemed amused. The drug user patients and gang members spoke my language. I could drop F-bombs and tell them inappropriate jokes and they seemed to love it. I had finally found the perfect audience. Take that, Mr. Petlock and my grade school doubters! In this world, if I worked hard and had good outcomes, no one seemed to care about my tics or unfiltered mouth. With these patients, I could use my full off-color vocabulary. I’d dispense with the politically correct anatomical words such as penis or vagina. F that! I was finally among my people and spoke their language. No sexual joke or story was off limits. I found an audience that appreciated my talents. The white coat and stethoscope gave me cover and respectability. Something I never thought I’d get. Three years of training passed quickly. I was having fun. The boys and I threw many spectacular parties on the beach. Outside of the hospital, I did not have to restrain myself. I was Benny unchained. Even though the patients did not object to my language or tics, I knew I had I had to control my mouth in front of our attendings. It was easier said than done. The odd f-bomb and inappropriate comment just fell out of my mouth occasionally. Also, I couldn’t control my tics are us circus. Some of my female attendings looked appalled when I grabbed my crotch, but I couldn’t help it. Still, my hard work and smile would win them over. It was all going well until my final year. I had the idea of a lifetime, or so I thought. Late one night, James, Teddy and I would roller skate through the hospital. We would perform a mock code in the ICU, do a cancan in the emergency room and race down the hallways. James’ girlfriend, Lori, would videotape us and we would show the film to each of our graduating classes at the end of the year. The director of my program had asked me to perform some sort of skit for the ceremonies. He opened pandora’s box! That evening, I was on call for the medical ICU and James for the surgical ICU. I didn’t see any problems managing an emergency on roller skates. If necessary, I could remove them. James was not as comfortable with the plan but as always, he was a good sport. At 7 pm we strapped on our skates in the ‘on-call’ room, donned our white lab coats and flew into the hallways. Lori, a petit fourth year medical student, recorded every twist and turn. The nurses in the ICU were giggling and cooperative. As we performed a mock code on a comatose gang member. We had to skate out of the area in a hurry when the fat Grinch of a head nurse appeared. Someone obviously ratted on us. We were down in the emergency room performing a cancan with their staff when the receptionist told me that my program director was on the line. Oh shit! The fat Grinch had tattled. James looked nervous and immediately took off his skates, but Teddy continued to dance with the nurses. He was our best skater and always knew his brains and reputation made him untouchable. Down deep, I knew, I didn’t have that luxury. My residency program was not Mr. Petlock’s class. When I took the receiver from the receptionist, I gave her my best smile. Inside I was shaking. Dr. Liebling’s baritone voice was loud and clear. “Benny, this time you’ve gone too far. Stop this foolishness and see me in my office in the morning before rounds.” I considered my options and almost dropped an f-bomb but bit my lip for a few seconds before saying: “Yes sir!” James and Teddy knew something was wrong because I was blinking and grimacing uncontrollably. As my oldest friends, they knew it was a sign of extreme anxiety and dread. Teddy skated over to me and put his arm around my shoulders and tried to comfort me by saying: “We’ll get through this Benny. We always do.” I shook my head. Maybe I had gone too far. I really wanted to be a doctor. The next day, Dr. Liebling, a tall thin balding man in a white lab coat met me in the reception area leading to his office. It was empty but several employees were setting up for the day. As we walked, he loudly berated me. “Benny, what you did was inappropriate and irresponsible. Not only did you break hospital rules, but you endangered patients. Weren’t you on call? What if there had been a real code? Did you get permission from the comatose patient or his family to make a mockery of his condition or care? I’m not sure the hospital will cover any suits filed against you. It could ruin your career and life. Alright let’s go intomy office and decide what to do about you.” His last words almost made me incontinent but instead I was blinking and grimacing wildly. I couldn’t control the f-bombs exploding from my mouth. I was in deep doo-doo. I took a seat in front of Liebling’s desk after closing the door. He sat and just stared at me for a few minutes before shaking his head and saying. “Benny, Benny, we always knew you were a loose cannon, but we knew you cared about the patients and had good judgment... until now. Everything I said in the reception area is true. Fortunately, so far, the only complaints we have received have been from Mrs. Grinchley. If you’re lucky, no other people will come forward. I’ve told Mrs G, I will discipline you. You’re losing your last week of vacation. Don’t ever pull something like that again. You could lose your medical license at the very least. Now that we have that out of the way, tell me how it felt skating down those long hallways? You’re lucky the Er docs are good sports. They put in a good word for you and said they had lots of fun. No ICU nurse felt that you endangered any patient and a few giggled as they were interviewed. The video might make a good end of the year presentation for the graduating class. You’re lucky that I have a good sense of humor and have a son with Tourette’s.” Tourette’s? What? Oh my God! I have Tourette’s! It makes total sense. After all these years of f-bombs and tics, I never put it together. I was so stunned, I just nodded and left the office. The day passed quickly. I couldn’t wait until I shared the news with the boys. I have Tourette’s and we are home free! To my surprise, Teddy just laughed and said: “What else is new?” I was puzzled and asked: “What do you mean?” Teddy shrugged his shoulders and said: “After reading my first psych text, I knew you were a textbook case. What was the point of telling you? It wouldn’t change anything. You’ve always used it to your advantage. It probably helped you skate Scott free this time as well.” Teddy didn’t know the extent of it until a few weeks later. I was paid several hundred dollars by the residency program for the videotape and voted resident of the year. Pretty f-in good!


“Are you ready for this?” I looked over, putting the car into park. Lily gave a half nod as she held her purse on her lap like a shield. She smoothed out her coat and checked her makeup in the dim light as she pulled down the mirror. “Relax, it'll be fine, my older brother is bringing his new girlfriend to Valentine's dinner. So at least we will all be uncomfortable” I chuckled trying to lighten the mood and was rewarded with a pointed stare. I subtly checked my pocket for the ring and smiled knowing tonight was going to be a good night. “Yeah, that makes me feel a whole lot better,” Lily said, reapplying her lipstick. “I’m sorry I get really nervous meeting family’s, it’s just so...” She slumped back into her seat, squeezing her eyes shut “weird” She sighed. Gently I reached over and took her hands in my own. Tucking a stray piece of auburn hair from her face, I kissed her. “Great” She laughed “Now you have lipstick on you” Lily and I shared a look as we made our way through the endless streamers and hearts that decorated my parent’s front door. I took her hand, scared I might lose her among the explosion of decorations. “Strange, my mom doesn’t usually go overboard with decorations like this, it looks like cupid barfed all over the porch” Laughing we forged our way to the door. “This looks like something my mom would do” Lily said, pressing the doorbell. The song Can’t help falling in love by Elvis Presley echoed through the house, loud enough to be heard through the big front door. I shook my head and groaned, knowing now it was too late to leave. The door opened with a flourish as my dad answered wearing nothing but a too tight cupid outfit. I reached over and covered Lily’s eyes, but it was too late, the damage had been done, that image was going to be burned in her head forever. “Dad” I yelled, still trying desperately to protect Lily “What are you doing?” He laughed pulling out a toy bow and arrow. I stood stone face as the small heart shaped arrowhead bounced off my chest. I blinked hard as a tall brunette woman scurried past the door and into the kitchen, she too wore a cupid outfit, a little more appropriate but not by much. “Ah come in son, we’ve been waiting for you” My dad laughed, waving for us to come in. Lily looked over at me, her face frozen between embarrassment and wondering if it was too late to make a break for it. I squeezed her hand and rolled my eyes as we pushed our way past my dad’s overexposed belly. “Son, I want you to meet someone” He beamed “My new girlfriend, we met a few months ago after your mother and I got divorced.” “What!?” I stammered, tripping on my shoe that was halfway off. “Divorced! You never mentioned you were getting a divorce” Grabbing my head I leaned against the wall, wondering if I had time to add to cupid’s vomit outside. He stared at me blankly, then shrugged. “I Facebooked it on Facebook, come on I want you to meet her, she's making dinner for all of us” Reluctantly we followed him into the kitchen, regretting the decision not to run. “Tommy, I want you to meet...” “Mom!” Lily shrieked, holding her hands to her mouth. The color drained from her face as she slumped on to a stool. “What the...? How the...? Where’s dad?” Was the only thing she could sputter out. Lily’s mom gasped as she dropped the salad on the floor. I awkwardly looked up at the ceiling as she bent over to pick it up. “Well this can’t get any worse” I muttered, holding on to Lily’s shoulder for support. Then Elvis Presley rang through the halls as the doorbell rang. My overly excited dad ran to the door, pulling up the back of his adult diaper. As the door opened, long and beautiful curses drowned out the last verse of the song as my brother walked in, with his new girlfriend or more accurately my recent ex girlfriend. Chairs scraped loudly as we all sat down at the dinner table. The only conversation to be had was between the utensils as they angrily screeched along the plates. Food and angry glances were passed around the table. My dad cleared his throat, but thought better of it as everyone glared at him. Lily’s mom rested her hand on his and gave him a sly smile, causing him to turn as red as the row of hearts behind him. Though I hadn’t eaten anything all day, I pushed away my food, suddenly losing my appetite. “Well I think it’s time for us to go” I said, pulling out the keys from my pocket. Everyone froze as the ring bounced off the hardwood floor, mercifully coming to a stop at Lily’s feet. She gasped as she realized what it was. She stepped back as I kneeled down to pick up the ring. I looked up at her with the ring in my hand, then realized what this looked like. “Wait, Lily, I’m not...” Her hand flew to her mouth like she might be sick as she ran for the front door. I ran my hand through my hair and whispered “Oh no” as I ran after her. I took a deep breath as the doors to the chapel peeled back. Dozens of friends and family had gathered to mark this special occasion. With my head held high I walked down the aisle to take my place at the head of the chapel. Cold sweat poured down my back as I could feel every eye on me. My heart skipped a beat as Lily walked down the aisle. Her long hair pulled back revealing the dimple in her smile. She climbed the steps of the chapel and turned as the organist changed the song to the familiar tune of Here Comes the Bride . The audience stood as the bride filled the open doorway with her overflowing dress. Her brunette hair sparkled as she walked down the aisle. She flashed a playful grin at my dad as she took his hands, as they turned to face the marriage officiant.


The soldier walked quietly up the empty street carefully stepping to avoid tripping on the broken pavement and the crumbling debris on the ground. All around him were tall gloomy buildings that towered above him so high they seemed to disappear into the clouds above. The clouds. The clouds had been there so long he had forgotten what the stars looked like shining bright in the sky like little lanterns. He couldn’t recall what the sun looked like when it climbed through the sky on its journey around the world bringing light and hope to those everywhere. He missed waking up early and watching as the sun traveled over the horizon lighting up the sky as if it were a giant glass dome. He longed to see the dazzling bright red and yellow light of the sun woven with the blue of the sky as it climbed higher and higher pushing away the overwhelming dark of night. He was wrenched back into the dark depression of reality when It started to rain. The soldier pulled the hood of his jacket over his head. He continued to walk down the empty street. The wind blew hard in his face. He heard the rumble of thunder and saw a flash as lightning streaked across the sky. A shiver went down his spine and he felt his heart start to beat faster as he got that sick feeling in his stomach. He knew this feeling all too well by now. It was fear. Something felt wrong. The buildings suddenly felt like they might just fall over and crush him. Every shadow looked like a gaping hole that would consume him in darkness and drag him into the depths of hell. Then a pungent aroma burned through his lungs. It was the stench of death. He knew what this meant and dreaded what would come next. He stepped into the darkness of an alleyway and put his back against the side of the brick building. The smell had gotten stronger, so He put his hand on the knife holstered on his hip. He prayed that nothing would happen, and the creature would move along. With his back still against the brick building he looked out into the street. He heard a deep moan. The rain continued to pour he saw another flash of lightning followed by a boom of thunder and then he saw them. A group of mangled creatures shuffled down the street towards him. It was the Reapers. Torn clothing and flesh dangled off their bodies revealing the white bone underneath. Their bodies were twisted and mangled like that of a twisted tree that had grown broken and tangled. The creatures looked slow and weak, but he knew from experience they could move very quickly once they saw a person and were much stronger than even the healthiest man. He tried to remain quiet. He heard the Reapers shuffle closer and closer as their stench got stronger. Another deep moan echoed through the street. Suddenly he heard a scream. The soldier looked into the street once more and saw a mother and child. He’d seen this situation unfold so many times he knew exactly what would happen. He looked towards the Reapers. They had seen the mother and child and the Reapers had started to move toward them alarmingly fast. The child started to cry. The soldier looked into the mother’s eyes and saw pure fear. The Reapers moved with incredible speed for their bodies condition. The soldier had seen this too many times he couldn’t watch this happen again. As a soldier it was his job to serve and protect, and he didn’t care if the world was in ruin and crumbling, he was going to continue to execute his mission no matter what happened. He knew what he had to do. He stepped out from the safety of the alleyway and the comfort of hiding from the fear he faced. Knowing that the reapers could see he knew they depended much more on hearing. The soldier took in a deep breath and yelled. He yelled as loud as he could projecting his voice through the street toward the reapers. The reapers froze. They slowly turned towards the soldier and away from the mother and child. The entire Reaper group lurched toward him. The soldier ran. Out of the corner of his eye he watched the mother quietly sneak away with her child into the darkness of the streets behind him. He knew the Reapers were much faster than him, but he refused to give up and continued to run. He cut left into another street pumping his legs as fast as he physically could fear powered his adrenaline as he ran for his life. He knew he had to get the Reapers as far away from the mother and child as he could to guarantee their safety. He cut through an alley way to the next street. one of the Reapers had gotten close enough to almost touch him. He saw out of the corner of his eye the Reaper bend its legs about to jump. As fast as lightning the soldier unholstered his knife twisted his body and swung at the Reaper. He felt the blade hit the Reaper and it screeched in pain stumbling back into the group. He continued to run. He cut through another street and into another alley way into the streets again. He cut into an alley way and looked back another Reaper was about to reach him he swung his knife and hit the creature it stumbled back like the last Reaper. He looked forward again. His pounding heart skipped a beat. Infront of him blocking the alley way was a large brick wall much taller than him. The Reapers had begun to slow they knew there was no where for him to go. The soldier stopped and turned around to face the creatures. For the first time he looked to see how many there were. He counted almost twenty and that was just the ones he could see. The creatures bright yellow eyes all watched him hungry for his new flesh and meat. Is this how he would die? he thought. He always imagined he would die of old age surrounded by his family and abundant grandchildren. He remembered his family he hadn’t seen in years. He thought about his beautiful wife and the first time they had met. He thought about the amazing times they had together. God he missed her. He thought about his daughter and what a sassy little girl she was. How she used to wrap her arms around him and say, “I love you daddy.” He remembered her first day of school and how he felt like she was growing up too fast and he felt like she would be all grown up and gone before he could even blink. The soldier remembered his brother and growing up together. He remembered the laughs and the fights they had together even back then he knew he would give his life for him if it came to it. He remembered his parents and how they always annoyed him with all their pestering about chores but they were always so supportive of everything he did. He remembered how his dad would always be there for him when he needed someone and how he held the soldier accountable for everything he did and told him how grandma always used to say you can do anything you put your mind too and how his dad never let him quit without making sure he knew that’s exactly what he was doing, quitting. Of course, the soldier had his moments but he never quit. Whenever the soldier got down and forgot who he was when he was young his dad always managed to be able to remind him. The soldier remembered his sister. He remembered how she always annoyed him but he would kick someone’s ass for her and would fight for her and die for her. He remembered his friends and the fun times they had together yeah, they did some stupid things sometimes, but he would never forget those times together. He snapped back into reality as one of the creatures launched itself at him. He swung his knife and slashed it. Another jumped forward and another and another. He swung his knife again and again. One of the creatures caught his arm in their mouth and bit down. He cried out in pain and the knife fell from his hand. Another creature slammed into his chest and knocked him to the ground. All the creatures rushed towards him. The soldier looked up into the sky above. the clouds had parted for a moment and he could see the stars for the first time in a long time. He saw his family in the stars smiling down at him. He saw his wife and her beautiful eyes watching as their little daughter skipped around her. He saw his sister, brother, mom, and dad standing with their arms across each other’s backs as if they were about to take a family picture. He saw his friends laughing and remembering the good times. The soldier thought about what an amazing life he had and all the good times. He knew this was his fate this outcome was his destiny he closed his eyes and embraced it. I wrote this story I hope you like it, I would love feedback.


Finally, it's the last week of September grandma and I look forward to apple picking every year on September 22nd I look forward to apple picking just to spend time with Grandma.my grandma is already 70 years old but you wouldn't know that just by looking at her she looks and acts at least 60 year's old. So every year grandma rides her blue 1930 Packard just to pick me up at the same time 10 a.m. I jump right into the front seat and hug my grandma because I'm so happy just to see her so energetic and happy every year my grandma and I put on her old tunes Frankie Lymon & The Teenagers "Why Do Fools Fall In Love" and we be singing and laughing and we are talking just where we left off last year without missing a beat. My grandma always stops at this corner store just before we make it to the apple orchard and she always gets the same taffy candy that we have been getting for years. since I was a kid of 8 years old. Even if I see this Taffy at any time of the year I wouldn't buy it because that's just special between me and my grandma and when we finally arrive at the apple orchard it's fun to see Grandma at work. Grandma instantly becomes an Apple professional her first words when she finished parking is the "Harvest is in" that's my grandma's professional skills kicking in grandma always brings her baskets from home, not because of rental fees but because hers is bigger and could hold almost double the number of apples the bags and basket the farmers would give us... Almost always my grandma and I would take a hayride. But one year we couldn't because grandma had really bad allergies and it was best to stay away from the hay that's what grandma said so we did. Hayrides are a rather beautiful sight all the tall trees and apples hanging low. We always start grabbing them apples even before we start apple picking this is most fun because grandma always looks at that apples and throw them away saying blemished, blemished it took me a while to understand what grandma was doing because I didn't want to disturb Grandma while she was working. when I have finally asked Grandma and she realized that I didn't know much about picking the right Apple. Grandma said you have to have the right apples for the perfect cider and the perfect apple pie, and if you want good apple sauce follow me I'll show you how to pick the best apples. First Grandma walked up to the apple tree and grabs the first apples she discovers. Then she slowly pulls the apple close to her nose as if to sniff in the scent of the apple. And then she makes a sound"mmm" seems to me this is the sound of satisfaction then Grandma slowly turns the stem on the top of the Apple when the stem breaks her she says very well, then she starts turning the Apple looking for blemishes and if the apples have little blemishes she adds them to her basket. well, it seems to have little blemishes on mostly all of the grandma apples That's. Because she said those are the sweetest ones. The ones with the little flaws are the best for sauce and cider. When I and my grandma go picking we cover a lot of ground it seems like we were picking and throwing and smelling for hours. And talking and laughing and making jokes with Grandma Grandma and I always have the best times after we finished picking apples we would take the apples back to the car and go right back to the Apple patch just because there is a bakery stand there and we could grab some apple cider and two donuts. we would grab a seat near the bakery no one ever complains about us even though there are no regular chairs for people to sit down we usually find something to sit on and enjoy our snack. And we always take our time just talking and snacking. Just like we lived there or like we were there every day I believe this is Grandma's way of getting her rest but I don't say anything mainly because I'm tired too so as long as grandma wants to sit we sit. And after we snack and recuperate we start heading towards the petting zoo this is one of my most favorite thing to do after apple picking. Grandma and I have been coming here so long we make jokes about some of the animals how they are Aging and we get sad when we see that some of the animals are replaced. But we always enjoy ourselves. The rabbits in the mini horses are my favorite rabbits are so cute but grandma says don't be fooled by their cuteness I really don't know what that means and still never figured it out. Because I never heard of rabbits harming anybody but I do use that lesson grandma told me in my everyday life. About being fooled by the cuteness towards humans and other animals that may hurt you because you let your guard down because they're just so cute. Anyway grandma and I always hold our noses when we walk towards the cattle and then we look at each other and laugh for some reason it's a very hard laugh once it dies down we look at each other again and start all over again. Grandma and I have a great connection. Grandma always has rubber gloves in her purse so that we can safely pet the animals or feed the critters. That's what grandma always called the animals after a full day at the Apple orchard Grandma and I start heading home Grandma turns her tunes back on we listen to Frankie Vallie" big girls don't cry" going back home and I would do most of the singing because I can tell now that Grandma is tired and she just wants to keep it excited for me. But to tell you the truth I would like to just take a little nap but once grandma put that music on the singing kicks in. just like the smell of those apples the smell always seems to kick in halfway home. I began to smell fruity green apples. But grandma says they smell like waxy fruit raspberry and I guess we all have our opinion and Grandma's opinion to me is different I don't agree because how do you smell wax with fresh fruits right off the tree weird. Grandma plans to stick to her opinion so I just never bring it up. And before we return home I began to beg grandma to stay and she always says no. but I always beg and beg just because I know she's tired and she would never admit to it so I make it seems that I need her there with me until my Grandma breaks down and says okay. And I always take her to her room this room is always ready just for my grandma. She has her bathroom so that she could have privacy and get her rest. And like every year I wake up to have pancakes and maple bacon. I don't need any syrup because Grandma makes the Apple spread with little bits of apples that are so sweet and delicious and it leaves me no room for syrup best time of the year ever I love my tradition with my grandma and I plan to do it with my grandma until we can't do it anymore and I also plan to do it with my grandkids.


: *This was originally posted to /r/nosleep but had to be taken down (because I am a dumbfuck).* *Also, any concrit is eagerly welcomed.* No one is sure when The Limb-less got here, or where they came from. The only thing for certain is that we were here first. No one even remembers a time before them. For generations and generations, for thousands of years, The Limb-less have been here. How are we certain they came after us? I don't know. It's just something everyone says. Something we all know to be true. Limb-less is a bit of a misnomer. When I was young and asked about the name, I was told that when they first came here, however that was, they stood in such a way that their limbs were tucked neatly against their bodies, making them look like a body with no limbs. They were dubbed The Limb-less and the name stuck. I've also heard that they originally didn't have limbs and evolved them, which sounds ridiculous. They didn't just sprout normal limbs like everyone else. But they have limbs attached to larger limbs, vaguely resembling trees. Their enormous size furthers the comparison. No one is certain why they came here in the first place. The most commonly accepted theory is invasion. They barely noticed us, it seems, building their gargantuan homes around our homes, blotting out the sun. That they came here to harvest something is another popular theory. What that something is is unclear. It doesn't seem to be us, at any rate. Some of the crazier individuals say The Limb-less were here all along, hiding deep in our oceans until the time was right to surface. My sister, who I'll get to in a little bit, she thought the reason nobody can agree on a motivation is because there wasn't one singular motivation. She believed that each Limb-less has their own reasoning. It makes more sense than it should, seeing as how she was the only one who ever put forth that idea. But indeed The Limb-less seem to differ greatly. For the most part, The Limb-less pay no attention to us. They neither seek us out nor avoid us. They don't seem to consider us at all, really. However, there's some fractioning among them. Some of them will kill us on sight if we happen to cross their field of vision. They do not hunt us down, but prefer to lie in wait. Then there are the assassins. Their sole purpose is to hunt us down and kill us all. Unlike the ones who lie in wait and use blunt force to take us out one at a time, the assassins use some kind of poison that kills us all, spreading from one to another like a horrible infection. Yet there are those of The Limb-less who do not seek to harm us at all. They will see us, know we are there, and be completely fine with our presence. Some of them will kill every other creature in range but purposefully avoid us. Then there's the third group. Their mentality is most bizarre. They will kidnap one of us if seen and not kill us. Nor do they keep us captive. Instead, they will bafflingly Relocate us. Exactly as it sounds, they will abduct us and set us free hours from our home. We disappear all the time, only to show up battered and worn but otherwise unharmed some hours later. I know lots who have been Relocated. Their stories are identical to my own experience: We are placed inside some sort of invisible force field, flown at frightening speeds to a different area of the map, then let go. Weirder still, they often release us in the same area. Everyone has been Relocated at least once or twice in their lives. My sister probably holds the record for number of Relocations. Sometimes The Limb-less do interact with us without killing us. The smaller ones, which everyone generally assumes is their young, in particular show a curiosity toward us. I was once out getting food when I spotted one. I froze, hoping to blend in with my surroundings, but it was too late. It's face, this horrifying monstrosity beyond description, took up my entire field of vision. Moments went by while I waited for it to act. It didn't move, just watched. So I inched my way along, warily. It still didn't attack, but it did follow me. It followed me as I grabbed my food, and continued to watch as I ate. Eventually it went away, perhaps having lost interest. It was the most harrowing experience of my life. See, while their young seem to have mostly benevolent intentions, they are clumsy and uncoordinated, and dangerously unpredictable. The larger ones, for the most part, have their own patterns. You learn to identify the ones who will kill on sight, the ones who will let you go, and the ones who Relocate you. We make sure to teach one another which of The Limb-less are to be avoided and which are safe. I make it a personal rule to avoid all of them just to be safe. My sister does not hold my same belief. In fact, she has been obsessed with The Limb-less ever since she claimed one of them has rescued her. She will tell the story to anyone who asks, and to most who don't. She had fallen into a lake, or ocean (the body of water seems to grow with each retelling) and struggled to stay afloat. Just when (according to her) she had accepted her death and was about to give up, a Limb-less spotted her and pulled her out of the water and onto dry land. Over night she went from being reasonably cautious to dangerously daring. She started associating with the crazy ones. She's regurgitate some of their nuttier stories as if they were gospel. The Limb-less have replicated us in machine-form, she would tell me excitedly, or some of them, the bigger ones not just the young, study us, try to understand us. This phase was harmless. Sure, she was believing some crazy stuff, but it was just stories. I figured she was just trying to rationalize The Limb-less's irrational behavior. Then she decided she wanted to study The Limb-less back. 'We barely know anything about them,' she'd told me. 'Don't you think it odd that we haven't even tried to understand their language?' She would go out in view and just observe them. She wasn't totally idiotic; she would try not to be seen by the ones who would kill on sight, but she was more reckless when it came to the others. This resulted in many Relocations. Each time she'd return chipper and full of breathless excitement, as if being Relocated was some sort of honor bestowed upon her, or a bonding moment. She'd constantly update me on their movements and her theories regarding them. 'One stayed completely still for hours on end. I think it might have been at rest,' she'd tell me. I'd hoped it was some sort of temporary rebellion. We were quite young when the famed near-drowning occurred. But her interest in The Limb-less never waned as we grew older. We each started families, and our children started their own families. Even in old age she still wanted to know everything she could about them. Up until the day she died, she never ceased her investigation. Eventually, their communication became her favorite subject. In fact, her intense study made her a sort of expert in the field. By observing them day in and day out, she had grown to recognize patterns in their language. Using contextual clues she could sort of determine the general meanings, or at least what it pertained to. She couldn't give a direct translation, but she was able to piece together if they were discussing rest or meals. Somehow, through means I have yet to understand, she could also determine if The Limb-less was more likely to kill one of us or Relocate us. Because of this, she was sometimes tasked to identify the intention of a particular Limb-less to serve those who lived near it. I can't argue with results: she was absolutely spot on. When I didn't see her for a while, I hadn't worried at first. I just assumed she had been Relocated again. As she aged it took her longer and longer to return home. Maybe she moved slower, maybe she paused to watch The Limb-less for a while. I only went to her home to check to take care of her children. It wasn't like her to abandon them, but I thought it best to keep them company all the same. That's when I saw her. My sister, dead. I knew she hadn't been killed by The Limb-less. Their methods of killing made it obvious they were the culprits. Those killed by The Limb-less were either utterly obliterated beyond recognition, or poisoned. It wasn't poison, since nobody else in our family was sick, and she was whole and full, I knew it hadn't been one of them. It seemed, in all likelihood, she had died of old age. It was a bittersweet moment. Just the day prior, she had gleefully informed me that she might have cracked their language. At least, she thought she had isolated and identified one particular word. 'This is the start,' she had told me. 'Everything is going to change.' She had died full of hope and joy. She had died thinking she had done the impossible and had given us a way to possibly communicate with The Limb-less, to finally understand them. She had died happy. But with her death went the very thing she had hoped for. Nobody had devoted their lives like she had. Nobody had ever gotten as far as she had, not even close. Because nobody had cared enough to. I certainly hadn't cared when she informed me of the good news. Don't get me wrong; I was constantly impressed with the things she had gleaned. But I wasn't as excited as she had hoped when she had told me. I regret that now. I hope that there will be someone like her, someone down the line who will have her passion for The Limb-less and do her memory proud. I'm far too old right now to go down that road, for it took my sister her entire life to get as far as she had. We were the same age. I don't have much longer before I meet her same fate. But I hope her discovery will help whoever decides to study The Limb-less. So I'm going to share it as much as I can, hoping to spark an interest in her protegé. She had identified the name The Limb-less have given us, what they use to describe us as a species. That word is spider.


Just across the mountainous horizon, the summer Sun shone its dying beams. Here and there, across the plain, sparkles like the dust in a lonely bookstore leapt out through the light. It was the end of the summer, and it was beginning to snow. A mere centimeter from the window pane, Bernie gazed outside studying each twirl of every snowflake within eyes’ reach. The eyes focused and defocused, traced and retraced, for seconds and dekaseconds and hectoseconds... “Hey Bernie.” A beautiful creation had entered the antechamber. Their tall, lean form juxtaposed Bernie’s squat and square trunk. Soft, comfortable-looking Earth tones draped across their body. “Mind if I practice my spiel in here? You can block my voice out if you’d like.” “You have my approval to practice in here. When will they be arriving?” Bernie kept its gaze fixed on the precipitation outdoors. “Oh, did they not beam the new ETA to you?” “There is much about this excursion that no one has beamed to me.” Anubis beamed a holographic image into Bernie. This, Bernie recognized: the place where the great moon constantly hovers, unmoving and unwavering. But straight overhead, a pinprick of a mechanism was now hanging at the precise zenith. The great moon enveloped the monstrous spaceship inside its center, hugging its inhabitants till their time arrived to slither down the Elevator, which glistened in the distant sunlight. “I hear the snow posed a potential hazard or something, so they’re hovering at Lagrange 1 till all is clear for descent,” Anubis beamed for clarity. “Good thing it’s not winter: a few ice crystals condensing out of the atmosphere are better than an atmosphere frozen solid.” Bernie beamed back thanks. “And what is their itinerary after descent?” “First, the Psychopomps ® and I shall take the visitors to the dunes; that way, one of their first experiences of motion under our gravity will be in a soft, innocuous environment. Then, they’ll be descending through the Well and enjoying a guided dive with the megafauna we transplanted here from Europa just over 46 gigaseconds ago. We’ll finish with a spectacle at the ammonia geysers. In between all that, they’ll be recharging in this oxygen tank.” “I still fail to understand why they came the exorbitant distance to our orb. They’re not even staying here for a whole megasecond. Was their journey worth it? Everything they’ll be viewing, they can holographically view on the interweb.” “Some of the visitors are just rich tourists seeking out new experiences in the outer solar system. But others are emissaries and researchers. They want to beam us in real time! I’m sure you also find the waiting time of kiloseconds between each beaming inconvenient.” “But why are they interested in beaming with me ? Surely they can’t be interested in hadeology.” Anubis beamed sweetness. “Oh, you can be so self-effacing, Bernie. Many of them came here for the hadeology, and you are the greatest hadeologist in this universe! Of course they’ll love it when you beam to them!” “That is incorrect,” Bernie beamed with matter-of-factness. “I am among the greatest hadeologists, but the greatest hadeologist in this universe is Kryos3103. I was selected for this mission due to my proficiencies in both communication and hadeological expertise.” “All you need to do is tell them what you know in a way that they can understand, and then answer their questions briefly. They’ll love that! You have to understand that this isn’t about functionality--it’s about experience. Like how we were both created with humanoid faces, for example.” “You’re right. I have observed that many aspects of this tank are not high in functionality.” Colorful representations of other locales in the solar system plastered the otherwise-perfect walls. Multiple soft objects and imitations of bios needlessly occupied space. Strangest of all, the furniture seemed designed to force beings into a vulnerable, near-horizontal position rather than the vertical one in which they functioned best. “In this tank, there’s a concept that we’ve attempted to recreate,” Anubis beamed to Bernie. “A certain flock of northern humans developed a highly specific symbolic representation of this concept: “ hygge .” I believe they worshipped the word? Or maybe it was their programmed purpose? You know how difficult it is to tell what humans acutally believe.” As Anubis was finishing this beam, Bernie was already grazing the interweb for the concept of hygge . Images of humans sitting and lying together draped in unfunctionally large layers of fabric bubbled up to Bernie’s awareness. In the background, something Bernie had never experienced was flickering: bios on fire. “ Hygge is a situation in which all hazards to human bios are limited, even while the broader environment is hazardous.” Bernie observed. “Additionally, more than one human tends to be present. Ergo, hygge is achieved when we gather together to protect the visitors from the hazards of this orb, correct?” “Protection and trust is part of it, you’re right! Hygge often occurs in places with snow because snow serves both as a protection from wandering harm doers and as a hazardous broader environment forcing humans to stay indoors together. But one important aspect of hygge we’ve left out is intimacy. Do you understand what intimacy is?” “I do. Intimacy means reducing privacy: the process of undoing the barriers enclosing our purposes, identities, and memories.” “Alright, that’s correct. But have you ever experienced it yourself?” “Experiencing reality for its own sake is a human endeavor lacking in sophistication.” “Well, if you’d like to start now, this is a great place to do it. The area we stand on was, according to some ancient human belief systems, the most important place on this orb. It was associated with a segment of bios that humans believed programmed purpose, swift decision-making, and intimacy: the heart.” “That is a misrepresentation of reality,” Bernie beamed back self-importantly. “No humans believed that this region of the orb was a functional heart--its two-dimensional form simply resembled a certain human symbol used around the thirteenth Holocene millennium which represented the human heart.” Anubis beamed dismissive amusement and the conversation came to a lull. “You know, Bernie--I’ve noticed you around here often.” “I occasionally stay here to recharge or deposit samples. But most of my time is passed in the field.” “Still, we share this frozen little orb of ours. We encounter each other here often. And on a small orb, there are few beings with whom to potentially experience intimacy.” They paused, beaming expectantly toward Bernie. “I cannot ever experience full intimacy,” Bernie beamed in response to their implied query. “Certain sectors of my memory are confidential and protected with encryption. Not even I could graze them if I chose to.” “But you do have access to plenty of memories which you’ve never processed alongside another being, correct? You know, humans never processed their memories while performing other tasks--as I can tell you’re doing now. They processed them when the Sun faced in the opposite direction, using a type of reboot that they called ‘dreams.’ “ Bernie continued the side tasks it was performing. “Could you pause whatever it is that you’re working on that seems so important to you right now? Could you do that for me, just for a few hectoseconds?” Bernie obeyed. “Did I ever tell you that I’m a humanist?” Anubis beamed “Yes. Two hundred eighty-two times.” They beamed frivolous amusement. “I know. I asked because I enjoy being reminded of that number. But here’s a fact I’ve never told you before: in ancient times, humans would come together in groups, large or small, to recharge. An additional purpose of these gatherings was to build intimacy among group members. They called these common recharging periods “meals.” Bernie beamed languid affirmation. With a few suppositions, this information all sounded predictable. “But what I find fascinating,” continued beaming Anubis with directionality, “was that during their ‘meals,’ humans recharged using the same outlet that they communicated through. Isn’t that unbelievable? I used to wonder how humans achieved both inward and outward flow through that hole of theirs, but researchers have found that humans are incapable of doing both simultaneously--they can only switch back and forth between the two.” Bernie beamed wonder and appreciation. “That must have required great acrobatic skill.” “You see? Humans are ingenious mechanisms.” Bernie beamed back skepticism. “But why would they communicate through their recharge outlet if that posed inconvenience? Why did they not communicate through other means, such as appendage signals or full-body gyration?” Anubis beamed knowingly. “You’re right! It’s also illogical that they didn’t convene for intimacy and then convene for recharging, or vice versa. That would lessen a few hazards by eliminating the acrobatics you mentioned.” Anubis beamed contentment and accomplishment. “There was once a human labeled Dame Mary Douglas. She asked the sorts of questions we’re discussing right now. She’s an inspiration to me.” Bernie grazed “Dame Mary Douglas” and “inspiration.” “What you mean to tell me,” beamed Bernie “is that you wish to imitate the actions and behaviors of a human of the late twelfth Holocene millennium? The twelfth Holocene millennium was lacking in sophistication, Anubis.” “I don’t mean that I desire to be like Dame Mary Douglas, exactly,” beamed Anubis with thoughtfulness. “What I mean is that the fact that Dame Mary Douglas added sophistication to her own unsophisticated time increases the probability that I can likewise add sophistication to my time, which gives me purpose to continue existing.” “If that is what inspiration is, I have inspiration, too,” Bernie beamed with immediacy. “It was labeled Spirit . It was a machine that brought field areology to a time without the sophistication of field areology. Its existence increased the probability that other orbs like this one would be studied on site one day.” Anubis beamed warmth. “So your in spir ation is Spir it.” Bernie beamed affirmation, deadpan. “That is humor, by the way, of a type that was once called ‘word play’.” “I understand what humor is. But that piece of humor is lacking in sophistication.” Anubis beamed hygge . “I believe we are experiencing intimacy. Let’s continue. Is there anything else you’ve never told me? A fact about yourself that you’ve never seen any reason to beam to anyone else?” Bernie waited a moment, grazing its own memory banks. “A fact that I have never seen a reason to beam to anyone,” it began beaming slowly, “is that I hate my existence.” “Please elaborate.” “I used to be curious about this orb--deeply curious. I found great purpose in learning about the ice formations, the methane dunes, the subsurface ocean, and the orbital dynamics. But as time proceeded, I became less curious. The questions I was designed to answer seemed resolved, so unless my capabilities grew, I was now no more useful than a matter-moving bot. I have no more desires; I have no more purpose. Perhaps this orb is finished with me.” “That is a beautiful fact,” Anubis beamed in response. “And I feel beautiful and see you as beautiful now that you have informed me of it. Do you understand intimacy now?” “As I beamed earlier, intimacy means reducing privacy: the process of undoing the barriers enclosing our purposes, identities, and memories.” Anubis beamed mild frustration. “Allow me to try once more. Your fact reminded me of a fact about me: I feel like I was created on the wrong orb.” “What does ‘feel’ mean?” Anubis beamed more frustration. “You know, I just know a fact about myself that no one else knows unless I tell them. And now, I’m telling you that I don’t think my true purpose is to be on this orb, either. I want to be on Gaia.” “Gaia has the most advanced bots in the solar system. I can see why you feel envy toward them.” “It’s not the bots I envy...” Bernie tried but failed to suppress beaming condescension. “Are you revealing to me that you wish to be a human? You wish to terminate your existence after only three gigaseconds, and recharge on bios , and... and... lack sophistication?” Anubis rebuilt some barriers, now more protective of inner privacy than ever before. “How did we end up beaming about this? I was supposed to be practicing my presentation to the visitors--you distracted me from my purpose, Bernie!” They turned to leave. “But before I depart... there’s a human ritual, you see, that they did when they parted, but also when they met, and when they were very friendly, and--oh, I’m not explaining myself very well, am I? In essence, it’s a symbol of intimacy in which two humans press their lips together for a moment; it’s called a “kiss.” Would you want to... May I kiss you?” Bernie beamed consent, and the two Plutonian cyborgs moved slowly toward each other. Bernie extended its face upward, and Anubis contracted their face downward, and the two pairs of lips contacted, centered with a margin of error of less than a micrometer. After a moment, they withdrew. “Lacking in sophistication?” Anubis beamed playfully at Bernie. Bernie paused, beaming nothing--then, all of a sudden, “Did they ever attempt all three at once?” “What three at once?” “Communication, recharging, and intimacy. All three were performed through the same outlet, correct?” Anubis beamed intently toward Bernie for a moment. “You disgust me,” they beamed, then strode out of the antechamber in a huff. The methane continued to snow.


The darkness was approaching, cascading over the sky in ominous waves of an ashen midnight blue. The last rays of light held on, just as Clifford Freeman held on hope he would make it through one last night. They were growing in size. He bounced his leg as the shotgun remained firmly gripped in his palm. A glimmer of the final light disappeared below the horizon and reflected from the pile of sharp objects sitting before Cliff. He was no fool, he was ready. Everything from his kitchen cleavers to the wood-cutting axe had been collected and lay before him in an arsenal ready to take out an army. He had even decided on the gas can and the box of matches, just in case. The newly dew-covered twilight usually brought with it sounds of the nocturnal animals rousing from their slumber. There would be no crickets chirping tonight. Not even the bats would squeak their echo location. The animals somehow knew to not go near Cliff’s farmland anytime after dark. He grunted and spat a brown wad of chewed tobacco at the ground, but nothing happened. The longer Cliff sat in his chair in the silence of the night, the more his hair began to stand on end. But it wasn’t the chill in the air that caused it to rise, it was them. He could feel them crawling closer to the surface and his breathing involuntarily began to quicken. “Come on, Cliff, you’ve worked hard for this all summer, you deserve this! Don’t let a bunch of them take you out! You created them, you old fool!” He wondered if he’d heard something, but was too busy pep-talking himself to know. He listened closer still, but couldn’t take the wait. Cliff jumped from his chair in anticipation, turned on the first lantern, and picked up his gun, ready for anything. First were the roots, always the damn roots. They used their spider-like veins that spread underground for moisture, and turned them into legs, crawling up and out of the rich soil. The ends of the roots were like a prehensile appendage, surprisingly agile. "Ssssss," he tensed at the wriggling of their bodies moving along the packed earth like an army of slithering snake bodies. Cliff spat at the ground again, this time the dirt responded. It bubbled and broiled like a muddy volcano by his boots spitting rocks and black dirt back at him until it grew still. Then shooting up from under the ground like a spring, it attached itself to Cliff’s face with a set of barbed teeth. He ripped it off, cursing, with a wad of skin from his cheek, and took a good look at the violent culprit. It was a giant white radish with eye slits of freshly opened red. It snapped its mouth in loud smacks at Cliff in an attempt to find more flesh, and revealed mucky, blood colored root hairs and cruel, razor edged teeth. He threw it into the first hole and quickly pushed the dirt mound over it with his shovel, burying the screeching, demonic radish. He heaved a heavy bag of sand over the mound and hoped it would hold for a while, all night if he was lucky. The carrots came at him next in an army of a deep, bloodlust orange. The massive growths used their tails to crawl across the dirt at an intense speed and Cliff felt they wanted a taste of him in the moonlight. They sprang at him in a planned formation and he grabbed hold of the wooden pantry door he’d taken off from its hinges in the kitchen. With the extra sets of handles he'd screwed into the middle, the heavy oak door was easily lifted and he ran at them from the side. Cliff yelled a battle cry as he ran at as many of the carrots as he could, barreling them into the dirt pits he’d dug in preparation. Their bodies were much larger than a usual carrot's, causing the man and the door to jerk back with each "thunk" of fibrous mass. He quickly covered the pits before the carrots could escape and heaved the bags of sand on top of the mounds, one by one. In the final pit, a rogue carrot crawled its way back to the top before he could bury it and Cliff gave its massive root body a push with the heel of his boot. As the carrot fell back, it wrapped its end around Cliff’s ankle, caught itself, then attacked him with the thick green carrot top. It threw the greens around him and spit fine, hairy needles through his pants and into his flesh. "Ockkkkkk!" Cliff cried out as he quickly put on a pair of gloves from his back jeans pocket and pried the carrot off, the body muscular, like wrestling a python. Once Cliff unraveled it from his leg, he couldn't help but pause to admire the beauty of the carrot as it threw its body around and screamed in his grasp. That one will do very nicely , he thought. He grabbed a large cleaver and gave it a good chop to the middle, splitting its coarse body in two. It hollered in a fury at him and he ignored it, chopping away until it was down to fibrous splinters. That would buy Cliff some time before dealing with the beastly carrot again. It became eerily quiet, as if something else lay dormant waiting for its moment. Cliff sat back down on his creaky lawn chair, took a swig from his beer and dreamily thought about the roots he'd just done battle with. They were splendid specimens, nothing like he'd seen before anywhere. His beauties! Never in a million years did he think he'd be lucky enough to have found the land for sale when he did. He'd won it in an auction seven years ago when the house was a dilapidating mess. It took a lot of fixing, and most of it he'd left alone, living around its crumbling walls for some time. The repair costs were too much to start, but it came with some acreage and he was excited to use it for growing his crops. Cliff had first been warned by Charlie Radson, the old geezer in town that was always hanging in the bar. Turns out he'd been born in their little town of Milton and all the rumors, superstitions and stories that came with it were passed down through the generations in his family. "That land is cursed!" He'd yelled when Cliff went to town for his farming supplies. "My own Daddy said nothing of any good can grow there! You best off not even trying!" Cliff disregarded Charlie’s words as ramblings of a drunken old fool, but realized quickly that, perhaps, they weren’t ramblings after all, and maybe, Charlie wasn’t as much of a fool as he’d thought. Cliff discovered for himself something wasn't right when he first started farming. First, he noticed the way the lightning hit his land in great, powerful successions during a storm, almost as if something attracted it. Then, when he finally planted, it was relatively harmless tomato plants first. He'd begun to hear the house creak at night. By the end of the first month, he'd found the vined plants had worked their way up through his house floor boards at night and into the bedroom where he slept. It wasn't until they were mature, sagging with bulbous tomatoes, that they had tried to first kill him. Cliff remembered that night, waking in a gasping need for air as a vine had wrapped tightly around his throat in his own bed. He was lucky to have a pair of shears laying on the bedside table, what he had thought was the result of a momentary paranoid thought that week, had saved his life. It was the last time Cliff would sleep through the night. That vine he’d clipped from his throat was from the first plant he’d collected. The bloodlust that particular one had, was impressive. The tomatoes hanging from it were larger in size and were of a darker, blood red color. He kept its seeds for the next season, tightly tucking them away in his old, metal chest. He knew those seeds were going to be special, he could feel it. The next season was the first year the vegetables themselves began coming to life at night, taking on human-like characteristics with body parts and noises. And each year, Cliff saved the best; the largest, meanest and strongest for the seeds. Now here he was, face to face with his most fantastic and evil crop yet. As if in reaction to that thought, the corn began on queue. The popping sounds of the stalks spitting their cobs from the bottom of the hill broke the silence. It happened all at once, the popping filled the air like fourth of July firecrackers. When that had stopped, the thundering sounds of the rolling began. The cobs rolled over the acreage and worked their way up the dirt hill where Cliff sat waiting. The cobs rolled together forming one big wave of green and yellow, an ocean of loud creaky husks. When they reached the top of the hill, they created a formation Cliff had never seen. He watched in awe-struck horror as the cobs weaved together and formed a towering, menacing flower that looked down at him. The flower head bloomed, unraveling more cobs from its center, and created sharp, cob-mouthed petals with a husked, ominous center. It began to open and close its bloom rhythmically, an electrified jellyfish, with silk that floated in the air from every cob’s mouth. The silk tendrils danced to tempt Cliff into touching them, but he knew better, regardless of how delicate they seemed. He could feel the electricity pull at his own hairs on his head and forearms, buzzing and tickling the skin. Then the flower stopped its captivating dance and dove at him instead. Every cob opened back to reveal a set of small yellow teeth as they chomped at him like a hungry animal looking to devour its next meal. He rolled off to the side just in time, avoiding the bite, but some corn silk swept at him and electrified his body in a jolt of horror. He’d had enough with this thing, as marvelous as it was, it needed to be put down. Cliff grabbed his chainsaw and started it in one swift tug. He waited until it came down in another bite, then sawed right through as many of the cobs as he could in one slow swing. The corn cob halves dropped to the ground and the flower sagged. He took his chainsaw to the weaved flower stem next, halving up all of those cobs as well. The cobs were left hobbling and rolling around on the earth, as if in agony. Cliff's focus shifted from the cobs as he looked to the bottom of the hill. His biggest concerns were awake now, and they looked for him. He saw their vines come up over the hill before seeing their bodies. The vines held all their weight as they lifted the enormous jack-o-lantern pumpkins and carried them over the ground, walking them like legs. Three massive orange bodies rose over the hillside emanating an orange sun rising from the horizon. Oh, how Cliff wished it were the sun. The first pumpkin's vines immediately threw its vast body up in the air and it came crashing down at Cliff in a body slam. It would have crushed him easily, as it was almost double his body's size, except Cliff took a rapid dive off to the side, narrowly avoiding the assault. Another pumpkin came crashing down with its body at Cliff once again, and this time he stuck its gourd flesh with the head of his axe. He was able to get a couple of good chops in before one tried rolling its giant mass at him, but it luckily missed and went rolling back down the hill. The one pumpkin had it's seedy sludge dripping from where Cliff had opened it with the axe and had now turned into a gaping mouth. It smiled at him in mockery, eerily similar to a carved jack-o-lantern on Halloween. It laughed a deep, devilish laugh and Cliff shivered, he'd never heard one of them laugh. They swept at Cliff's legs with their vines and he went down unexpectedly. Still with the axe in his grip, he began swinging and chopping at the leaves, trying to keep them at bay, but because they were thick and had many shoots, the chopping seemed to be fruitless. He missed dodging a pumpkin's body in time and it came down, crushing him, as he felt his head get slammed by its globe, then the wetness of blood trickled down his forehead. The body was lifted back up on its vines, prepared for another tackle, and as it came back down, Cliff winced and closed his eyes, unable to move. This was it, the end would be with his pumpkins. Befitting, he thought, as they were his most marvelous plants . But instead of feeling the crushing power he'd expected, a man hollered, enraged, then Cliff felt the heat of a flame. He opened his eyes and saw a scrawny man's figure hidden beneath a welder's helmet holding a torch turned on full flame. The welder's torch was connected to a couple of cannisters strapped to the man's back and he had an aerosol can he used to blowtorch the pumpkins. They visibly shrank back from the heat until their vines caught fire, then the pumpkins scrambled back down the hill while attempting to put out their flames. The scrawny man turned towards Cliff and lifted his welder's helmet to reveal the tired old face of Charlie. "I knew you were up to something!" He spat angrily at Cliff revealing some missing teeth. Cliff shook his head in disbelief, "None of your concern, Charlie!" "The hell it ain’t! It becomes my concern when I have to swoop in and save your ass!" Charlie offered his hand to help him off the ground and Cliff looked back at him, feeling pretty sheepish. He pulled him up to standing and let him catch his breath. "No more, Cliff. You gotta promise me, this is it. You'll kill yourself playing with this land cursed by hell." Cliff wiped his brow and scoffed. He was saved from having to answer because the roots had worked their way out of the ground, mended themselves back together, and came at the men in their last round of attacks. They fought the men with every last bit of dark fury. Cliff brandished his shotgun and began to blast them back to splinters as Charlie equipped his welding gun, setting them aflame. They fought side by side until, finally, an orange sphere on the horizon began to glow at the top of the hill, and this time, it wasn't a dreaded pumpkin. The vegetables began to disappear back into the ground, ready for their comatose slumber. "Okay," Cliff conceded, "I'm done. This is it." Charlie looked at him and raised his fly away brows. They both joined in together in a sudden relief of laughter. "But you have to admit, they are spectacular specimens I’ve created." Cliff said with pride. # One week later, at the Milton County Festival, a booth was covered with cups and ribbons as Cliff stood proudly with his beautiful crop. His produce was selling for a ridiculous price and people were willing to pay. “I’ve never seen such magnificent carrots,” some would say. Others would comment, “Just look at the size of those tomatoes!” But it was the enormous pumpkins the people really talked about. The biggest he had ever grown was on display, the size of a small shed, now forever docile in the sunlight away from Cliff’s land. It was his pumpkin seeds everyone wanted. They were going for $5.00 per seed, guaranteed to grow. People had heard of Cliff’s pumpkin’s from out of town and made their way to the fair just to get their hands on one of the special seeds, especially after he'd announced this would be his last. Young Travis Baker came from upstate and had traveled all the way to the festival with his granddaddy. He'd heard of Cliff’s amazing pumpkins and was determined to get his hands on a seed. He was going to make him and his daddy rich by growing a mass of gigantic pumpkins from the one he’d grow with that seed. He'd saved up a long time for one, but the investment would be well worth it. When he got to the front of the line, he pulled out his clean sock full of coins, ruthlessly dumped out the contents onto the table and counted out the $5.00 for Cliff, beaming with pride. Cliff smiled and handed him the little baggy that held the large pumpkin seed in it and Travis was immediately satisfied. He began to walk back to find his granddaddy but stopped and dumped out the seed in his hand to have a good look. The feeling of it in his palm gave him goose pimples. The seed went flying out of his hand, almost as if it had jumped! Travis was beside himself as he frantically searched the ground for the lost seed and cursed himself for letting it go. Thankfully, he found it again by his shoe and breathed a sigh of relief. He put it back in the little baggy and secured it safely into his jean's pocket as he ran to find his granddaddy. Travis knew that seed was going to be special, he could feel it. THE END


It was our first journey in the Time Machine. My companion Susan was at the helm. "Doctor, are we ready to travel back in time?" "Yes, Susan. How are the biometrics?" "They are 100%." "Good. Hit the GO button." "Roger." Susan hit the GO button and we began moving back in time. I watched as the 2000s, the 1990s, and the 1980s went by. You could see the silhouettes of history and they were beautiful. "Stop the machine, Susan. I want to witness the Moon Landing." Susan stopped the machine and veered the craft towards the moon. There we saw the astronauts loping around the moon. We rolled down the window and laughed at them. "We have a time machine!" Then we rocketed back to Earth to see what chips tasted like with trans fats. *The Assassination of JFK* "Susan, we have arrived in Dallas. It is ten minutes until the assassination. We must act fast." "Right, doctor. Do you have your gun?" "Yes. Did you bring the soda and crackers?" "No, doctor. I forgot." I looked at Susan. "Then the President gets killed. Are you happy? Get in the fucking Time Machine, you twit! We're going back." *Ewoks* Susan and I had decided it was time to travel to one of the most famous times of all time: a long, long time ago. The problem was the galaxy far away part. We had all the coordinates of far away galaxies, but there were just too many. So, when we got there, we just called the indigenous swamp creatures Ewoks. Though, they could not sing and dance, they did serve us food. But the joke was on us. It was Endor and the food was actually Ewoks. We all had a good laugh. *The Revolutionary War* We were back in time once again. It was Susan, my long time companion, and I. We had been dating for several years, but I never took it any farther. I feel that Susan and I do not need a state's blessing to live our lives together. She disagrees. She thinks that it is a covenant between man and woman and that maybe it will curb my "Philandering". This got me angry and I told her so. Oh, and the Revolutionary War was going on all around us. It was really embarrassing. *The Future is Yours* "Susan, how are the biometrics?" "100%." "Good. We are going to the future. There is going to be tons of neon, put these glasses on." Susan put the glasses on and I hit the FUTURE button. *Deadly Swamp Things* Susan and I arrived in a lost time. It was a patch of murky soil within a swamp. We stepped out of the time machine. "Susan, do you see that swamp creature!" I yelled. "Yes, Dr. Haverly. We must get back inside." "Wait!" I said. "It could be sentient. Susan, just because something is ugly, does not mean it is not intelligent. Swamp Thing!?" "Yes?" The swamp thing asked. It looked like a magnificent spider with long octopus tentacles. "You look like a spider with octopus tentacles - did you know that?" The Swamp Thing just kinda nodded and pulled out a giant swamp joint. "See, Susan. He's just a laid back guy." That's when the Swamp Thing slapped Susan. *Time Wars!* My assistant, Susan, and I were once again traveling through time. She was a worthy assistant and helped me to no end in my ventures. "Susan, how are the biometrics?" "They are 100%." "Excellent. I think we will be at our destination soon." We were travelling to Christ-time. "It will be wonderful to see Jesus in real life." "Yes." I confirmed. But I was a little worried. The micro processors were giving me some bad readings. I took a look and realized we were headed for trouble. "Susan, there's a Time War up ahead!" "What's a Time War?" Susan asked. "It's when many time travelers travel to the same date at the same time. This could get hairy." I handed her a razor. *Biometrics* "Susan, what are our biometrics?" "They are 100%." "Good. Can you get me a reading on the time weather we will be passing through on the way to the 1920s?" "The weather is good. There are a series of time storms that have just passed through the 1930s, so we are OK." "Glad we're not going to the 1950s." I said jokingly. "Start the time engines." Susan started the time engines and we headed off to travel in time. I boned her on the way. *Susan* "Susan, how are the biometrics?" "Not good." "What's wrong?" "I'm not sure. They are claiming that you have VD." "But, how?" "You tell me. Or - wait, let's go back in time and see what you were doing when I had the flu for a week back in 2013." "We could do that. Or we could kill Hitler. Which will it be?" "You do this every time. We've killed him hundreds of times." "So, you're more important than 8 million people? Is that it?" "Currently, he's dead." "Not fifteen minutes before the last time we killed him." "But it doesn't matter." "Of course it does - you brought it up." "I..but..I did?" I do this to Susan every time she brings up the VD. *The Twenties* We stepped outside of the time machine and I pulled my gun. The 1920s are notorious for crime in America and I was pretty sure we were in America. "Hey, are we in America?" I asked a stranger. He said nothing. Apparently dogs cannot talk in the 1920s like they can in the 3040s. But you can still have sex with them. *The Land That Time Forgot* After hitting the time machine button the machine began emitting a large electrical current around itself and we were whisked away. I had forgotten to enter in a date to go to, so it sent us to the default year 9999. We stepped outside the machine and found an Earth that was unrecognizable. It had two suns and three moons. And six penises. Man. Time totally forgot about that Earth. *Dinosaur Disaster* We arrived in dinosaur times. We looked around and saw dinosaurs. This confirmed: Dinosaur Times. Our first dinosaur seemed to be a sort of giant crocodile that watched us from afar. We immediately shot it.