Episode Nine: Cloud 99

In our last episode: Taylor donned stinky socks to woo Bethany Coulter. But before meeting up with her, he was intercepted by his bitter rival, Jacque Smythe. Jacque tried to prevent Taylor from talking to Bethany, but Taylor gave Jacque the slip and met with Bethany – who was too busy to go home with him after school, but who agreed to try after cheerleading practice. Taylor, ecstatic, ran into Jacque again on the way out and suggested that Bethany agreed to meet with him because of the deadly smelling socks, which Jacque quickly stole and ran off with, leaving Taylor…

            I laughed and headed to the bathroom to wash my hands – my mind already dwelling on the sweet fantasy of walking home with Bethany Coulter.

            To say that the rest of the day passed in a dream would do a terrible disservice to the feeling of euphoria that settled on me. It was like Cloud 9… no, better… Cloud 10? It was closer to Cloud 99… trillion. I could have been hit with a small nuclear projectile that blasted away all my skin, embedded tiny particles of salt in all my wounds, and boiled away my eye balls and I still would not have noticed a thing. My mind was wandering the byways and pathways of that particular nirvana where everything is right with the world even as you walk in the slimy pits of reality. Failed Biology exam after lunch – didn’t even notice. Getting the air knocked out of me by a not so errant line drive off the bat of Jacque Smythe – never even phased me. I even managed to shower with the rest of the PE class without the usual embarrassment. I was completely above the cares of this world. As the last class bell rang, I was starting to feel that I was incredibly lucky and invincible.

            “Hey, did you hear?” asked Brett as we began to stuff our stuff in the lockers after school.

            “Hear what?”

            “The Greenspan Club called an emergency meeting,” Brett answered.

            At that particular moment, I really had no particular cares about what the Greenspan Club did or didn’t do – but the idea of an emergency meeting of this group of business minded students did spark a vague interest in the back of my mind, as if there was something it was trying to remember even way up on Cloud 99.

            “Really?”

            “Yeah… some terrorists have seized an oil rig in the Gulf. Its causing the Oil Futures prices to go through the roof. The market is having a Class Two seizure.”

            “Class Two… that’s… bad?”

            “There’s only one worse…”

            “Mmm hmm…” I said, “Well, I wouldn’t worry about it. I’m sure the US will send in some Spec Ops types to regain control of the oil rig in a few days.”

            I knew that what I said was true, but I couldn’t quite figure out how I knew.

            “This is not something to take lightly…” Brett argued.

            “It is precisely something to take lightly,” I countered, “What do I care about some oil rig in the Persian Gulf? I’ve got to go wait for Bethany Coulter at her cheerleading practice. What could be more important than that?”

            Little did I know, at precisely that moment, assassins were making their way on to campus to answer that question for me.                   

To be continued...

Episode Eight: Sock It To Me!

In our last episode: Taylor met up with his twin sister, Jess, in the Cafeteria at lunch. She wanted to know if the rumors were true about him asking out Bethany Coulter. When Taylor explained to Jess what had happened and why Jess couldn’t remember how she had gotten to school, Jess walked away. When Taylor confronted Chris about why everyone in school knew that he was going to ask Bethany out, Chris explained his completely insane plan – to make him smell like a Jock in order to trick Bethany’s pheromones into thinking that Taylor was more manly than he really was. At that moment, Bethany walked up to Taylor and asked to speak with him. Taylor told her to wait for him outside and then…

            I turned to Chris and whispered, “Make me stink!”

            Chris and Brett didn’t hesitate. They pulled out a pair of tongs and removed the most sweat soaked gym socks ever conceived on the planet. They were literally dripping with sweat, staining the cafeteria table as Chris held them out to me on the end of the tongs.

            The smell from them was overpowering. Every nose in the entire cafeteria turned to look in the direction of the socks. None of them, even the women, appeared to be impressed or in any way turned on.

            “What the hell did you do?” I asked, looking at the socks.

            “We took a pair of old gym socks and used them to wipe up all of the sweat spots on the gym floor after Basketball practice,” Chris explained.

            “These are Grade A Funky Fresh,” Brett added.

            “I’m not wearing those,” I stated firmly – aware that time was already slipping away and I didn’t want to keep Bethany waiting.

            “You don’t have to,” Chris noted, “Just slip them into your pockets.”

            With one hand pinching my nose, I reached out with the other and removed the socks from the tongs – slipping them into my front pocket. The reek was incredible.

            “These stink!”

            “To you, maybe,” said Chris, “But to Bethany… she will be driven wild with lust.”

            I felt my eyes watering from the stench, but I had no other choice and little time to debate. I turned around and headed towards the door to the outside courtyard where Bethany was waiting.

            Just as I reached for the door, however, a skinny tattooed arm slipped in between me and the door, preventing my departure. I knew that arm. I stopped.

            Jacque Smythe stepped between me and the door.

            “Taylor Banks,” he said in a heavy French accent, “I hear that you are trying to woo my Dezzzert flewer, Bezzany, no?”

            “No,” I said and I moved towards the door again.

            This time he physically blocked my movement with a body check. I stepped back away from the door.

            “What do you want, Jerk?” I asked.

            “I want what you cannot have,” Jacque replied. “You are not good enuf for my Bezzany. You dishonor her with your very presence!”

            I rolled my eyes.

            “Why don’t you go surrender a war or something?” I asked, and I moved around him again.

            This time, though, when he moved to get in front of me, I spun and went right around him and out the door. He stood in the doorway, stunned, as the door shut behind him. At last, I was alone with Bethany in the courtyard.

            And she knew it immediately.

            “Oh, God!” she said suddenly, “What is that smell?”

            I didn’t close the gap between us, but stood where I was and sniffed the air, “Must be something from the Chemistry lab.”

            “It smells rancid,” she noted.

            “Kind of manly though…” I said hopefully.

            She wrinkled her entire face against the nostril onslaught and said, “Yeah, if you like to smell greasy fat truckers who haven’t bathed in a month.”

            I tried to subtly close my pocket and trap the smell inside my clothes – but it had little effect.

            “You wanted me for something?” Bethany asked quickly.

            “Yeah,” I returned. “I was… I mean, I need to ask you, um, a favor?”

            “What sort of favor?”

            “Can you come over to my house after school today?”

            “No… I’m afraid I have Cheerleading Practice.”

            “How about after that?”

            “Well… maybe… I have a lot of homework and stuff,” she said. “No promises… but if cheerleading doesn’t go long, I might have time to come over for a few minutes.”

            “Great! That’s just great!” I said, as calmly as I could muster. In my head, I was at the head of a giant ticker-tape parade with billions of cheering people all shouting my name and fireworks exploding and F-16 fly-by’s and a calliope and a giant balloon of me floating behind me and…

            “Well, I’ll see you later,” she said, and then she fairly turned and ran out of the courtyard, one hand on her nose the entire way.

            I reached into my pocket and removed the sock and then turned around and carrying it out in front of me, I went back into the cafeteria where Jacques was still watching me – incredulous.

            “She said, Yes,” I noted. “And all thanks to my lucky sock!”

            Jacques looked at me with smug distaste, then looking around to make sure nobody was watching, he snatched the sock from me and gleefully ran off – taking the smell with him.

            I laughed and headed to the bathroom to wash my hands – my mind already dwelling on the sweet fantasy of walking home with Bethany Coulter.

To be continued...

Episode Seven: Eyes on the Prize

In our last episode: Chris gave the outline of his plan for talking to Bethany Coulter – one word, Pheromones. Before Chris could give any details of this plan, however, Taylor had to rush off to his first class – an American History exam – which he likely failed miserably. After the test, Taylor headed for lunch and realized that…

            My appointment with Bethany Coulter could no longer wait.

            I walked across the cafeteria to where Chris, Brett, and our other friend, Mike Sugars, were already eating. As I crossed the cafeteria I had the very odd feeling that everyone in the room was watching my progress and that the usual din of conversation subsided into a dull roar.

            Just as I was about to reach the table, however, I was very nearly tackled by my twin sister, Jess.

            “What the hell?” she asked me, her nostrils flaring with pure outrage.

            “Excuse me?” I replied.

            Realizing that everyone was now looking at us, she closed the space between us and contorted her voice into a lower octave that somehow still managed to convey all the same rage as before and added barely constrained muscle twitches in her face and neck to emphasize her point. That and she punctuated each-and-ev-ery-syl-lab-ble-with-a-fing-er POKE!

            “Last thing I remember,” she poked, “I was heading downstairs for breakfast. Next thing I know, I’m standing in gym class with no recollection of how I got there… And with my gym clothes on backwards!”

            “The Hippie,” I replied.

            Her anger subsided into horror. “The medicine… Again?!”

            “Yeah… I drove you to school,” I replied.

            “Well… that explains some of it…,” she muttered, her fury bleeding out of her at an alarming rate, “Is it true you’re asking Bethany Coulter to the prom?”

            “What?” It was my turn to be shocked and outraged, “Where did you hear that?”

            “Are you kidding?” she replied. “It’s all over the school.”

            I rolled my eyes and looked around the room. It was no wonder the entire school was watching me. It was the equivalent of watching a car crash – people were eager to see me completely mangle myself in public.

            “No,” I countered. “Mom wanted me to invite her over after school.”

            “Why the hell would Mom…”

            The force of my incredulous stare stopped her words in mid-thought.

            “Yeah… I guess you’re right,” Jess said. “Well, good luck with that…”

            And she walked off, leaving me to my impossible assignment.

            I sat down hard at the table of my so-called friends and asked, “Why does the entire school know that I’m going to talk to Bethany?”

            They all looked down at their lunch boxes and pretended I hadn’t spoken.

            “I knew this was a bad idea,” I muttered.

            “Or a brilliant one,” Chris replied. “Right now, everyone out there assumes you’re going to crash and burn in a fiery spectacle of social suicide.”

            “Once again, you’re not making this any better,” I noted.

            “BUT… if you succeed… if you manage to get Bethany to come home with you, you will be KING, my friend! Everyone chick in school will want to date you and every guy will want to be you.”

            “I’m betting on the social pariah scenario myself,” Brett said between mouthfuls of crust-less PB&J sandwich.

            “At best its even odds,” noted Mike, who was heavily involved with whatever he was doing on his laptop.

            “Chris… I’m not asking her on a date. I just need to pass on my message and then leave,” I explained yet again.

            “Yeah, but they don’t know that. To their eyes and ears, you are asking her to the prom. Hell, you might as well be asking her to marry you. It’s the same thing to small minded high school kids. Look… don’t worry about the implications. I’ve got you covered no matter what. My plan is foolproof.”

            “What is your plan?”

            “Okay, have you ever noticed that Bethany hangs out with all the jocks?”

            “Yeah.”

            “And what do jocks have that you don’t have?”

            “Talent… muscles… girls…”

            “Yes. And one more important ingredient…”

            “Good looks?”

            “Stench.”

            “Stench?”
            “They practically reek of it – Athelete’s Foot, body spray, sweaty gym clothes…”

            “And this is something I should aspire to?”

            “No… and yes. You see, scent is the most powerful aphrodisiac… There pheromones are the thing that drives young girls mad with lust. If you smell like them, Bethany will be attracted to you. As I said, its got a thirty percent chance to work.”

            “You want me to smell like a jock… and that’s going to get Bethany to come home with me?”

            “Pretty brilliant idea, right?”

            “That is the most insane, absolutely god-awful, worst idea that I’ve ever…”

            Someone tapped me on the shoulder.

            “…ever heard in my entire miserable life, Chris. If you honestly think that such a plan… (tap, tap, tap)…could ever possibly work… (Tap, Tap, Tap)… then you’ve got something seriously wrong with your brain my friend. (TAP! TAP!) WHAT?!”

            I spun around to see who had been tapping me on the shoulder so damn insistently.

            Bethany Coulter backed away from me as I screamed at her, but she quickly recovered herself and just looked annoyed.

            “I heard you were looking for me,” she said.

            My mouth flopped open uselessly.

            “I’m sorry if I interrupted your conversation,” she noted.

            I closed my mouth, took a deep breath, and said, “Bethany, can I talk to you outside for a moment?”

            She nodded and turned for the door. The second she was out of earshot, I turned to Chris and whispered, “Make me stink!”

To be continued...

Episode Six: Pheromones

In our last episode: Taylor teamed up with his fellow Geek Guard friends, Chris and Brett, to discuss his plan for getting Bethany Coulter to come home with him after school. Finally, Taylor said…

            “Okay, Chris… what do I have to do?”

            “One word, my friend,” Chris replied.

            “You’ve summed up my entire misbegotten love life in one word?” I asked.

            “You’re not that complicated, Taylor,” Chris explained.

            “Okay… hit me.”

            “Pheromones.”

            “Pheromones?”

            “They’re the scents we secretly give off when…”

            “I know what pheromones are. The question is, what does this have to do with Bethany?”

            “It’s quite simple, really,” Chris replied. “Assuming that the numbers add up.”

            Chris turned to Brett. After a second Brett looked up from his laptop and begrudgingly gave Chris a thumbs up.

            “Okay, here it is in a nutshell,” Chris explained, “You have been pining after Bethany for your entire male sexual life and you’ve never even talked to her. Why?”

            “Duh! I mean just look at her…”

            “Fear!” Chris stated, raising a single finger in the air as emphasis. “You, my friend, are scared of her and of what she represents. And Bethany, likely, senses that fear and wants nothing to do with you. Women are genetically designed to react poorly to cowards. She senses that fear pheromone you give out and she finds you disgusting as a result.”

            “This is not helping,” I noted.

            “We need to change your pheromone,” Chris countered.

            “With like body spray or something?”
            “No, nothing so mundane.” Chris countered. “Listen, you leave the details up to us. Just come back here at lunch and we’ll get you all straightened out.”

            “Why do I feel like I’m going to regret this?”

            “Well, there’s still a 70% chance of failure, my friend. But if you fail it won’t be because of the science.”

            Just then, the bell for the first class rang. Before I could continue the conversation, I had to run off to my first and worst class – U.S. History.

            Despite the fact that I was a straight A student in all my other subjects, I had a real blind spot for History. I studied and studied and studied – truth be told, I found the subject quite exhilarating. But for some reason, whenever I took the test I completely blanked. Some of the questions made no sense to me.

            I rushed in and took my seat.

            As I set my bag on the ground, Mr. Freebird turned around and pointed directly at me, “Mr. Banks, I trust you studied for today’s pop quiz?”

            “Yes sir,” I replied. “I studied for three hours last night.”

            “So you feel that you are prepared?”

            “I know everything there is to know about the end of the Vietnam war,” I countered.

            “We shall see, Mr. Banks,” Mr. Freebird replied.

            He passed out the quiz facedown. I looked at the back of the test with a sense of dread and hope – might this be the first quiz that I actually aced.

            “Turn your papers over and begin,” Mr. Freebird said.

            I flipped over the paper and read the first question: Name Three Factors that lead to the end of the Vietnam War.

            I quickly wrote about the growing Anti-war movement and Watergate and the lack of support from other nations. I nailed the first question. Then I read the second question.

            In your opinion, did the guilty verdict of Hanoi Jane’s treason trial have an impact on the Kent State riot and the end of the anti-war movement? And if it did have an impact, should President Mondale have pardoned Hanoi Jane and did that mistake lead to his ouster before his second term in 1980?

            I blinked and re-read the question. Was this a trick question? I didn’t remember reading anything like this in my history book the night before. I skipped question two and moved on to the following questions.

            What percentage of Hanoi was destroyed by nuclear fire during Operation: Torch?

            Why did the destruction of Hanoi not stop the Vietcong from fighting the U.S.?

            What was the outcome of the war crimes trial of Ho Chi Minh?

            How did the unification of a democratic Vietnam deal a setback to growing Chinese hegemony in the area?

Did it have an effect on the official ending of the Korean War and the reunification of Korea?

            I blinked. I had studied for three hours and none of this made sense to me. Frustrated, I snapped my pencil in two. I looked up and saw Mr. Freebird shaking his head at me. I had failed again.

            After the bell rang, I wandered to my next class and my next after that in a blur. I don’t remember much of what was going on. I was dazed.

            But when I walked into the cafeteria at lunch and saw Chris standing there with a canary grin on his face, I suddenly remembered that I had bigger problems than just a bad head for American History.

            My appointment with Bethany Coulter could no longer wait.

To be continued...

Episode Five: The Geek Guard

In our last episode: Taylor drove his drugged out sister, Jess, to school and set her loose in the general population. Then Taylor realized…

I had to find the Geek Guard before the first bell.

            I made my way through the school security checkpoint, stopping for the full body scan on the other side before picking up my shoes, belt, and other gear. The sprawling lobby with the twin spiral staircases opened up before me. At the far end was the circular help desk of the Geek Guard.

            Chris was, as usual, on duty. He always liked to work the morning shift since that was when the cheerleaders and other young ladies came rushing in to have their gear looked at. Chris didn’t know the first damn thing about computers. He was our mechanical expert. But he did know a thing or two about ladies.

            He was talking to Monica Belladucci – the swim team captain – about her Ephone. It was having some sort of precognitive meltdown. It kept trying to predict the next person she would call – and it always came up with her ex-boyfriend. Chris, as usual, was smoothly dispensing advice.

            “There is only one way to some a pre-cog meltdown,” Chris explained, “You’ve got to defeat its temporal imperative by showing it that you will not let fate dictate your life.”

            Monica blinked rapidly and looked at her watch.

            “Huh?” she asked.

            “It’s trying to tell you to call your ex-boyfriend. Maybe it senses that you secretly want to get back together with him.”

            “As if…”

            “Right. So the thing to do is show your phone that you are in charge by doing exactly the opposite of what it’s suggesting.”

            “Okay… how do I do that?”

            “By going out with me for dinner on Friday?” Chris asked hopefully. “I’ll pick you up around 7?”

            To his credit, she didn’t say no.

            “And my Ephone?” she asked.

            “Once you say yes, the phone will reset itself.”

            “Okay… I’ll see you at 7…”

            Chris handed her the phone – his finger gently grazing the reset button on the bottom as he did so. The phone blinked and whirred and reset itself.

            “See. Good as new,” Chris said, smiling.

            “Hmm… let’s test this out,” said Monica. “Sorry, Chris… I’ve got plans.”

            The phone didn’t do a darn thing.

            “Yes… you fixed it,” she said, and walked away laughing.

            “Damn,” Chris muttered. “I almost had that one.”

            I tapped Chris on the shoulder and he spun around.

            “How long have you been standing there, Taylor?”

            “Long enough,” I answered. “Listen, buddy, I need some advice.”

            “I’ll say,” Chris replied. “Nobody just walks up to Bethany and asks her out.”

            I shook my head and said, “How did you know…”

            “Your Mom called… wanted to remind you. What the hell is she thinking?” Chris asked. “She does know that you’ve had the hots for her since… forever, right?”

            “I don’t think it’s come up,” I noted. “So, anyway…”

            “Don’t worry, I’ve already started work on the plan.”

            “I was thinking that I might just go up and ask her to come over because my Mom wants to see her. Curiosity should do the rest, right?”

            “Oh come on… you don’t think she’s heard that pick up line before?”

            “Really?”

            “Tried it on her myself… three times!”

            At that moment, Brett appeared carrying his laptop. He was still trying to affix his clip on tie to his impeccable uniform as he approached. He looked harried and discombobulated.

            “Sorry I’m late guys,” Brett said. “There was an accident on the I-15 and I had to take an alternate route. Thank God for my EPS program.”

            “You’re just in time,” Chris noted. “I need you to crunch some numbers for me.”

            “Numbers? For what?”

            “Taylor’s going to ask Bethany out.”

            Brett juggled his laptop and nearly dropped it.

“After all these years?” he asked.

            “My Mom needs to see her,” I explained.

            “What for?”

            “I haven’t got the slightest idea.”

            “What are you going to do?”

            “You’re going to crunch some numbers, Brett,” Chris replied for me. “I will not send Taylor into harms way until I’m confident of at least a 30% chance of success.”

            “Thirty percent?” I asked.

            “Sorry, buddy… it was the best I could do.”

            This was starting to look hopeless. I had known Bethany my whole entire life. We had been in school together since Kindergarten – seated right next to each other during all of grade school. But I was a late bloomer. While Bethany and Jess became best friends, I wasn’t interested in girls. By the time I began to take notice, it was too late. Bethany was the smartest, prettiest, and most interesting girl in the entire school – and, as a result, the most popular. To her, I was just the kid who sat next to her in class, and worse, Jess’s brother. When she and Jess grew apart, my chances to be with her became completely non-existent. A thirty percent chance to get her back in my life was actually pretty generous when I thought about it.

            “Okay, Chris… what do I have to do?”

To be continued...

Episode Four: Nice Cow

Last time: Jess appeared in the kitchen and was interrogated by her parents and her twin brother, Taylor, about the mysterious things she’s been saying. But just as she was protesting her innocence, she delivered a new message. Mom ordered her to take her medicine that left her completely blank. Then Mom asked Taylor to drive her to school and to come home after school with the school’s resident hottie, Bethany Coulter. Grumbling about such an impossible task, the Hippie also ordered Taylor to take his raincoat with him to school and also a broken remote control, which left Taylor thinking…

My parents were officially the weirdest parents in the entire universe.

            The remote was exactly where I remembered leaving it – under a pile of old Marvin and Ze Pink Paper Kups fanzines and Ralph’s Underwear Models catalogs. It still had a pizza stain on the send button. And it still did absolutely nothing when I pointed it at the TV and pressed any button.

            I tucked the remote into my pocket and went downstairs. Mom and the Hippie had maneuvered the vacant Jess in front of the door and were holding the keys to her relatively new Prius in their hands.

            “Drive safe,” said Mom, “And remember, come home directly after school. Do not dawdle.”

            “Who says dawdle anymore?” I asked.

            Mom’s eyes could have laser inscribed their message on the side of a M1A1.

            “Okay,” I said, “I’ll come home right after school.”

            “Good,” and she handed me the keys.

            “Your raincoat?” The Hippie reminded, handing me the heavy industrial strength plastic poncho.

            I looked outside at the bright, sunny, cloud free day and then, shaking my head, I took the coat. Some fights just weren’t worth it.

            “If you should run into anything… unexpected… put on the coat, immediately,” said the Hippie.

            “Unexpected like what?” I asked sarcastically, “Is it going to rain cats and dogs?”

            The Hippie did not share my sense of humor.

            “Right after school,” Mom repeated and then pushed me and Jess out the front door.

            As we shambled to the car, I looked at the blank faced Jess and said, “You are so lucky to be a vegetable right now.”

            I opened the passenger door and helped Jess inside, making sure to fasten her seatbelt. I threw the raincoat and remote into the back seat, and then rubbing my hands together got into the driver’s side and adjusted the mirrors.

            I turned on the car and immediately squirmed at the horrible noise it was making. I quickly reached over and turned off the MP3 player that had been mangling a Lady Gaga song. Peace and quiet and electric aided engine noises remained. I looked both ways then pulled out of the driveway.

            We drove along in silence. Jess stared out the window – mostly because she was frozen in that direction – and I was lost in thought. There had been so many weird things happening in just the first hour of the morning, that I hadn’t even had a few seconds to properly process them all. However, just as I was starting to sense a distressing pattern to everything, Jess’s medicine’s side-effects started to wear off.

            She turned and looked at me and said, “Nice cow.”

            I had no idea what she meant, but before I was able to ask, the parking lot at Clint Eastwood High School clamored for my attention. I drove in past the statue of the 43^rd President and found a spot in Jocks Row near the gym and parked. I got several ugly stares, but I didn’t care. This wasn’t my car.

            As a fiendish smile crossed my face, I climbed out and went around to the passenger door and helped Jess out of the car. She was capable of walking now, even if she didn’t particularly have any clue where she was walking just yet.

            I let her go and watched as she walked away.

After a few feet she stopped and turned back to me and said, “Thank you, Bananas Foster.”

I was still smiling when she disappeared into the crowd heading into school, but then I saw Bethany Coulter walking into school and my smile quickly turned upside down.

            I had to find the Geek Guard before the first bell.

To be continued...

Episode Three: The Medicine

So far: Taylor has had his morning bathroom time interrupted by the mad ravings of his lunatic twin sister, Jess. In an effort to convey the seriousness of Jess’s ramblings to his parents, known individually as Mom and the Hippie, Taylor tells them of her prophetic words only to have them demoted to the bizarre words of a sleepwalking Jess. As the Hippie runs off to fetch the anti-sleepwalking medicine, however…

She walked into the kitchen, not really paying attention to what she was doing - her mind obviously racing through some idea or another. I followed her into the kitchen, hoping to get one last dig in before the medicine came out and it was too late to convince her of my awesomeness and Jess's inferiority. But then Mom said something that changed everything... forever.

"Oh crap," she said, "I burnt your toast."

            My mind seized like a VW engine fed too little oil – even after warning your brother-in-law that it was low on oil and that he should fill it before borrowing your van.

            “Burnt toast?” I asked.

            “Yes, sorry… you distracted me.”

            “Jess said that… my toast would be burnt.”

            Mom shrugged her shoulders, “I burn things all the time.”

            “But…”

            My words and thought trailed out to infinity. But what? What exactly was I contemplating? And why? Did I really want to wander down that mental path wherein one questions the laws of physics and cause and effect? That was the path to madness.

            The Hippie returned with a brown Robitussin jar filled with some sparkly white liquid that looked like Bubble mix filled with silver glitter. This was the medicine.

            Mom threw the burnt toast on a plate and handed it to me. As I started to butter it, Jess came down the stairs and entered the kitchen. She was dressed for school in her red and white school uniform and she was carrying a Coach bag along with her backpack. As she entered the room, we all became quiet and stared at her as if expecting her to suddenly burst into song.

            “What?” Jess asked.

            Mom said, very deliberately and slowly, enunciating every syllable, “Are you awake, honey?”

            Jess looked right at me with a sudden quick suspicious fury.

            “What has the spasmoid been telling you?”

            “He told us what you said,” Mom explained.

            “About what?”
            “Don’t you remember?” asked the Hippie.

            “I say lots of things.”

            “You said my toast would be burnt,” I noted.

            “Your toast is always burnt.”

            “You said someone close to him was going to die,” Mom repeated.

            “He must have heard me wrong. I said that if he touched my stuff again, I was going to kill him.”

            “So you don’t know what he’s talking about?” asked the Hippie.

            “I haven’t got the… BOOP… THEY HAVE ARRIVED! REPEAT! THEY HAVE ARRIVED!… BOOP… foggiest idea what any of you are talking about.”

            “See!” I cried all A-HA like, “That wasn’t any kind of sleepwalking!”

            “Sleepwalking?” Jess asked.

            Mom looked at the Hippie and I could sense a sudden chill of fear between them.

            Mom recovered quickly.

            “It’s time for your medicine, Jess.”

            Jess looked like she was about to protest, but instead she smiled and said, “Yes, please.”

            The Hippie spooned out a small dallop of the liquid to Jess and she eagerly swallowed it. Jess immediately became blank-faced and froze like a statue.

            Mom said, “And you too, Taylor.”

            “Not now, Mom,” I replied. “I’ve got a history test today and you know I need all of my wits about me for that.”

            Mom looked stunned. The Hippie turned to me, beet red and furious.

            “Damn your Calusian blood!” He suddenly swore.

            Mom gave him a stern look and the Hippie closed up the bottle of medicine and left the room.

            “You’re probably right,” she said sweetly, “You’ll need to drive Jess to school today anyway.”

            “I get to drive? Sweet!”

            “There’s just one thing you need to do for me today, Taylor.”

            “Yeah, Mom?”

            “Do you know Bethany Coulter?”

            “I know of her, Mom. She’s only the most popular girl in school. It’s hard not to know of her.”

            “You need to invite her over to the house after school today.”

            I gave her a dramatic pause before responding, “Are you insane?”

            She smiled sweetly, like a dog trainer cooing over the antics of a fretful puppy.

            “No, I’m not insane. You invite her over to the house and don’t worry about her response. And then the three of you should come home directly after school.”

            “But, Mom…”

            “That is an order, Taylor. And trust me, you don’t want to screw this up…”

            “Okay… if you insist.”

            The Hippie returned carrying two rain jackets.

            “Here,” he said, “Take these with you.”

            “It’s not raining,” I noted.

            “Just do what I say,” he replied. “Also… where’s that universal remote I gave you for your birthday?”

            “In my room… the darn thing never worked,” I noted.

            “Go get it and bring it with you,” he ordered.

            My parents looked at each other, Mom questioning the Hippie with a raised eyebrow. Then my Mom turned to me and nodded her agreement.

            I rolled my eyes and headed to my room. My parents were officially the weirdest parents in the entire universe.

To be continued...