“Sorry,” I said quickly.  “We’re lost and don’t mean to intrude on your property.”

   “No problems at all!” the man exclaimed cheerfully.  “We’re always glad to take in guests and newcomers.  Please, come in!”

   Once inside, he took off his hat and bowed rather lowly at us.  It took me a while, but I suddenly realized he was touching his toes.  I was about to ask what he was doing when he quickly stood and put out his hand.

   “My name is Bob!” he exclaimed, again cheerfully.  “Let me show you around.”

   A kid ran by.  Bob grabbed him and turned him towards us.  To my surprise, the boy looked exactly like Bob, only miniaturized.

   “This is my son, Bobbery! Or Bob for short,” Bob said proudly, before letting him off.  Bobbery resumed running off to wherever he was going.  He disappeared into the hall where my eyes could not follow.

   Bob continued his tour and took us to what appeared to be an enormous library.  He hurried us to the side wall, where there hung a portrait of him dressed as a seemingly rich and wealthy king.  An engraving beneath it read “Bob.”

   “You look very...” I started, searching for the right word.

   “No no, not me,” Bob laughed.  “This is our king!”

   “King?” I asked.

   “Yes! King! My father, Bob the Third! We call him ‘The Bob’ around here.”

   “Bob the Third?”

   “Yep! I’m Bob the Seventh.  My older brother was Bob the Fourth, my younger brother Bob the Fifth, and my older sister Bob the Sixth.”

   I stared at him, dumbfounded.  Bob didn’t seem to notice.

   Bob pointed at a portrait of Bobbery and another boy.  “This is my son and his best friend, Billy Bob.”

   A small dog trotted by and out the room.  “That’s our dog, Bobcat.”

   We stopped next to a medium-sized fishtank.  “That’s our goldfish…”

   There was an awkward silence.   “He doesn’t have a name.”

   We headed toward another painting, this time, of an elderly woman.

   Bob smiled conceitedly with a huge grin.  “That is my wife.  Her name is my name spelled backwards.  Isn't that amazing?!”

   “Sorry,” I said quickly.  “We’re lost and don’t mean to intrude on your property.”

   “No problems at all!” the man exclaimed cheerfully.  “We’re always glad to take in guests and newcomers.  Please, come in!”

   Once inside, he took off his hat and bowed rather lowly at us.  It took me a while, but I suddenly realized he was touching his toes.  I was about to ask what he was doing when he quickly stood and put out his hand.

   “My name is Bob!” he exclaimed, again cheerfully.  “Let me show you around.”

   A kid ran by.  Bob grabbed him and turned him towards us.  To my surprise, the boy looked exactly like Bob, only miniaturized.

   “This is my son, Bobbery! Or Bob for short,” Bob said proudly, before letting him off.  Bobbery resumed running off to wherever he was going.  He disappeared into the hall where my eyes could not follow.

   Bob continued his tour and took us to what appeared to be an enormous library.  He hurried us to the side wall, where there hung a portrait of him dressed as a seemingly rich and wealthy king.  An engraving beneath it read “Bob.”

   “You look very...” I started, searching for the right word.

   “No no, not me,” Bob laughed.  “This is our king!”

   “King?” I asked.

   “Yes! King! My father, Bob the Third! We call him ‘The Bob’ around here.”

   “Bob the Third?”

   “Yep! I’m Bob the Seventh.  My older brother was Bob the Fourth, my younger brother Bob the Fifth, and my older sister Bob the Sixth.”

   I stared at him, dumbfounded.  Bob didn’t seem to notice.

   Bob pointed at a portrait of Bobbery and another boy.  “This is my son and his best friend, Billy Bob.”

   A small dog trotted by and out the room.  “That’s our dog, Bobcat.”

   We stopped next to a medium-sized fishtank.  “That’s our goldfish…”

   There was an awkward silence.   “He doesn’t have a name.”

   We headed toward another painting, this time, of an elderly woman.

   Bob smiled conceitedly with a huge grin.  “That is my wife.  Her name is my name spelled backwards.  Isn't that amazing?!”

   We live in a very large universe.  Our Earth only takes up so little, even a fraction of a percent of the entire universe is beyond our comprehension.  Yet we decide that there are things that are impossible.  There are a definite number of things that are possible.  We’ve only observed what we can of our microscopic portion of the universe.  Who are we to declare such absurd statements?
   Things can happen.  They’ve happened before.  Things that people say are impossible or would never happen – they’ve happened.  Most come quietly – it never rises to the attention of the world as a whole.  Some do not come quietly – and those are what catch the entire world off guard.  Anything can happen.  What are the chances? Not very high.
   If anything can happen, can everything that can happen all happen at once?

   I gazed out the window into the stillness of the cool, summer night.  Not a single star stood in the sky, but there hung a beautiful aurora, with hues of green and purple, lighting the sky up and leaving a colorful glow on all the neighborhood.
   The last time I had seen such an aurora since when I was really little; in fact, I believe the last time I saw one was the night my parents disappeared.  I had been sitting at this exact same window that night.  There had been an aurora similar to this, just as magnificent and just as beautiful.  I was the only one awake.  Everyone else had been asleep.  I ached to wake somebody to show them the aurora, which there had never been one before in our town, but the aurora put me into a deep trance.  I felt as if I had not a worry in the world, as if I had reached a form of enlightenment, as if I were in a dream.
   I must have fallen asleep while watching it that night, for I recall my younger sister shaking me and waking me up.  Somehow I was on the floor and I felt rather awkward, but that didn’t matter at the time.  My sister whispered to me that she heard someone slam the front door.
   At first I thought it was a joke.  I asked if she told Mom and Dad about it.  She said she didn’t find them in their room, and came upstairs to my room to wake me.  I told her that it must have been our parents leaving the house then, but she replied that she thinks they had been kidnapped.  I laughed; usually it’s the kids who get kidnapped, not the parents.  We woke my little brother, who was about the same age as my sister, and went to search the house.  I realized then that she was right about Mom and Dad being gone, but I didn’t think they were kidnapped.
   “Maybe they went outside to watch the aurora,” I suggested.
   “What aurora?” my brother asked.
   I went up to my room and pointed out the window, but the aurora had disappeared.  The sky was hideously dark; the stars were still gone.  A few dogs barked in the distance.  From that night on, we never saw our parents again.  They were proclaimed missing, and my sister, my younger brother (who was asleep at the time), and I were sent to an orphanage until we reached legal age to own the house.
   I was twenty-one now.  My sister had gone to live on the other side of the town, partly because of her job as a veterinarian, but also due to her belief that the house was now haunted.  She wanted to stay as far away from it as possible.  I thought she was crazy; she had always been superstitious like that.
   My younger brother, on the other hand, wanted to see more of the world, and so he left the city.  It wasn’t very easy either.  The roads to the city had been under construction for as long as I could remember.  There was no airport here, but the town was near the ocean where one could travel by sea.  He used up about half the savings from our parents to travel on a ship.  To where, he would not tell us.
   For me, I stayed in the old house, and it was fine.  I had been living in it for a few months already; I haven’t noticed anything strange or out of the ordinary.  There were a few things that needed fixing or replacing in the ten or so years that had passed, but otherwise it was great.
   I continued watching the aurora, slowly drifting in the sky.  The night was incredibly silent.  I tapped the windowsill and pinched myself to ensure I was awake.
   Something caught my eye right that moment.  A bright white speck of light was drifting downward within the aurora.  Had I not been looking at that very spot right that moment, I doubt I would have seen it, hidden among the aurora.  I gripped the wood of the window so tight that a small splinter of wood went up my right thumb.  I watched as the tiny ball of light slowly sank behind the hills in the distance and vanished, as if it never existed.
   There was a sudden flash.  My vision went white for a second, but I must have imagined it.  The whole time, there was not a single sound to be heard.  The air was still without even the slightest breeze.  No dogs barked.  No cats meowed.  No cars screeched in the distance.  I don’t recall seeing anyone driving any cars, or anyone at all.
   Slowly but surely, the aurora started to dim.  The shine left the houses, leaving them gray and dull.  The sky went pitch black.  A few dogs barked from somewhere in the neighborhood.  Just like that, the aurora vanished.

   The next day, I forgot all about the aurora.  I drove down to the nearby store to buy more food.  I had run out of milk, juice, eggs, bread, meat, and ketchup five days ago, but all this time I had been procrastinating, thinking I could last just a little bit longer, until the ketchup ran out.  That I cannot live without.  Let the milk run out.  I don’t care.  Let the juice run out.  I don’t care.  Let there be drought and the water run out.  I do care, but not that much.  Let the ketchup run out.  No.  One must have a good diet of fruits and vegetables everyday in order to live a healthy life!
   There I was gathering things into my cart at the store.  I was a tad furious for having my breakfast ruined like so.  I passed by the dairy aisle and looked for a carton of eggs.  There were numerous three packs for the price of a dozen, but no dozens.  I asked a nearby employee what had happened.
   “Oh we don’t sell eggs at a dozen anymore,” he declared proudly.  “We do not see a reason to.  Do you realize how valuable one egg can actually be? It is only now that you shall all learn to take eggs more seriously.  Besides, all the stores are doing it.”
   I didn’t feel like arguing, so I just grabbed a few three-packs and went on.  My day had gone off to a rather horrible start.  It just might be that this would be one of the most memorable days in my memory for years to come.  First the ketchup, then breakfast can’t be had, then eggs are sold four times more expensive…
   I sank so deep into my thoughts, I didn’t see in front of me, the guy in a green suit walking toward me, wearing three caps on his head, each one pointing in a different direction, each one a different color of red, blue, and yellow.  I did not see him suddenly act sly and suspicious and sneak behind me.  It took me a several minutes to realize the man was behind me shouting random words for all he was worth.
   “HEY!”
   “BOO!”
   “HAH!”
   “JELLY PICKLE!”
   “Goddamn it, can’t you hear me . . . BLAH!”
   It was Sam Pete, a friend of mine I had known for only about a year and he was already starting to freak me out.  I figure in this world, there are a number of ways people can be weird.  Some people are mildly and acceptably weird – the kind of weird that makes everyone unique.  Some people are so weird, they aren’t even human anymore.  Others purposely do weird things to make the world more interesting, a good kind of weird.  Sam was none of these.
   I turned around and stared at him for a second.  “You sound like an idiot.  What do you want?”
   “I wouldn’t be sounding like one if you would turn around! What are you deaf?” he muttered.  “I had been yelling right into your ear for two minutes!”
   “You look like an idiot as well,” I grumbled.
   I wasn’t kidding either.  How often did you see a man in a bright green suit, wearing three caps of red, blue, and yellow? His shoes were pink with orange shoelaces.  Over one hand, he had on a purple glove; the other wore a disposable pale-yellow glove.  To top it off, he wore a pair of shiny white sunglasses . . . in the store.  Even for Sam Pete, this was pretty bizarre.
   “Really? That’s very good!” he exclaimed, as if he had been worrying whether or not he looked retarded enough.  “Listen, meet me at the library at one o’ clock.  This is very serious!”
   “What’s so important?”
   “I can’t tell you right now,” he murmured.  “Just make sure you come!”
   “Okay sure,” I replied, grabbing my cart to continue my search for ketchup.
   Sensing I wasn’t taking him seriously, Sam grabbed a nearby beer bottle and shattered it on the back of his head.  “Come tonight or someone is going to die! And you don’t want that on your conscience for the rest of your life!”
   He held the broken bottle threateningly across his bleeding forehead.  He was shaking rather too nervously.
   “Fine! I’ll come! Just fix yourself up a bit,” I said.  I wasn’t sure what to make of this, but I seriously did not want to be the reason for someone’s suicide.
   A feeble smile forced itself upon Sam’s face.  He grabbed my hand and stuffed something hard, cold, and round into it.
   “Keep this with you at all times,” he stammered, the smile still forcibly latched onto his face. “Trust me you’ll need it.”
   With that, he spun around and hurried away.  I glanced down to see what he had given me.  It was a slightly faded-green, egg-shaped object with the most peculiar, shiny teal latch stuck sloppily atop of it.  Sam had given me a home-made grenade.
   Not wanting to be caught in a store, hand outstretched with a possibly dangerous explosive device, right in the middle of a busy aisle, I quickly stuffed it into my coat pocket.  Several people gazed suspiciously at me.  An old woman took off as fast as she could toward the front of the store when I glanced at her.
   I should probably get moving, I thought to myself and hurried toward the front of the store as well, keeping my gaze down to avoid eye contact with anyone.  I must have looked like I was pursuing the old woman or something, for she let out a horrifying scream.  I stopped immediately to see what was going on, and the next thing I knew, someone threw a giant potato at me.  It knocked me square in the face, and before I could regain myself, one of the employees ran me over with a shopping cart.  Are they trying to get the grenade to explode?
   I was sure how I was going to get out of that situation.  They grabbed my hair, my ear, and someone pulled at my nose and yanked me down to the floor.  A man helped tear off my jacket and reached into the pocket I had stuffed Sam’s grenade in.
   “Oh my god! It’s a bomb!” he cried out, as if he wasn’t expecting anything dangerous, after I had been hit in the head by a potato, run over by a shopping cart, and yanked down by the nose.  He literally tossed it to one of the employees, who eyed it carefully for a moment.
   “False alarm people!” he exclaimed.  “It’s just a toy!”
   There were various sighs and curses (Were they hoping for a bomb?) throughout the store.  The employee helped me up and handed me the grenade back.  I finally noticed the exterior was one of the plastic toy grenades with the brand name still attached to it.
   “Don’t bring these next time,” the employee warned.
   I looked about for the man who had taken my coat, but he had gone.  All I had was the stupid, toy grenade Sam had given me and my groceries which lay scattered about the floor.  I stuffed the grenade into my pocket and headed for the cashier.  They offered to give me my groceries free of charge, which was not bad I suppose, had I not received a flattened nose, a stolen coat, and a fractured ribcage.
   When I got home later that afternoon, I was starving.  I immediately took out of my bag 2 cartons of milk, a loaf of bread, a pack of eggs, and a slice of ham.  I stared at it for a few moments.  Something didn’t look quite right.

   I went to the library at one that afternoon as I had promised Sam.  It wasn’t that I actually took him seriously.  I really didn’t.  More or less, I was just rather curious what he was up to, and I didn’t have anything else to do that day.
   The drive took a few hours longer than I would have liked.  As mentioned before, there were no freeways or highways in the town, due to what appeared to be a never-ending construction project.  Traffic lights in this part of town were incredibly slow.  I remember I used to time it with my watch when I was little, and my parents were taking me somewhere.  From the moment the light went red, to the second it flickered green, my watch had counted a total of eight minutes and thirty three seconds.  The car barely reached the other side before the light flickered yellow.  I don’t quite understand it myself; you often saw cars from all four sides, just sitting there for minutes on end, all on a red light.  It didn’t help that there were about nine traffic lights to drive through, in order to get to the library.
   When I got there, I noticed that the parking lot was rather empty.  There were one or two cars there, and the owners only parked there to have an easy walk to the Wal-Mart right next door.  It didn’t strike me strange right that moment.  I’m not sure why; it just never occurred to me something was odd.
   I only realized my mistake when I reached the entrance, and on the door would not slide open.  A post-it note was stuck on the wall next to it, reading “Closed today! Sunday!”
   Perhaps he meant for me to meet him outside the library, I thought hopefully.  The cost of gas was going up quite a bit, and I did not like to think that I drove all the way here for nothing.
   I stood there for a while, searching the lot for any sign of him.  It didn’t help that the town was under a fairly intense heatwave.  Strange I didn’t recall it being so hot the night before.  If it were anyone else besides Sam Pete, I wouldn’t hesitate calling their cellphone.  However, this was Sam. After a few minutes, I gave up and started my drive home.
   It wasn’t all that unusual for someone to not have a cellphone.  There were plenty of people who had their reasons as to why not to have a cellphone.  One story that goes around is that cellphones can cause cancer due to radio waves transmitted from it.  I don’t think that it is all false, but it isn’t as if you plan to superglue the phone to your face all day.  Another story that went around was quite a few ways weirder.  Recently, there had been a small group of people claiming the phones were capable of implanting small devices into your head as you used it more and more.  With these small devices, some secret organization who made them will at eventually take over the minds of people.  Amazingly enough, this group gained a large number of followers, nearly a quarter of the town.  These are some of the reasons that go around against having a cellphone.
   Then there’s Sam.  His story was as outlandish you could possibly get.  Sam had this thing against all things electronic.  For cameras, he honest-to-god believed the myth about having your soul sucked away when you get your picture taken.  For televisions, he insisted people were being taken from this world and trapped in the screen.  Finally, Sam claimed that cellphones were strange alien devices used to by extraterrestrial beings to spy and study our bad habits.  With enough knowledge, they would be able to start an anti-human philosophy, in order to live an enlightened life and avoid all our mistakes on Earth.  However, Sam argued that watching us live would only pollute and ruin the minds of these great beings.  With that, he insisted on protecting the aliens from our horrifying ways of life, by disposing of our cellphones.  Sam had no followers.

   My name is Sam.  Sam Pete.  Call me Mr. Pete and I’ll strangle you.  People try to act polite around me, but I know deep down in their little minds, I am nothing but rubbish to them.  And I agree!
   People these days are far too busy to care for one another.  A man in a wheelchair, hit by a bus, wouldn’t last long if there were not people paid to save him.  Kids would run right by without noticing.  Men and women would scurry right past like lab rats, hurrying to wherever they were off to.  The logic goes these days that there is simply no reason, to think highly of another, unless they will get you rich or take you to high places in the future.  There’s just no other reason to care.  Many times one may wonder whether these are real, intelligent life forms that are actually capable of thought, for they often show no signs of it.
   Hence why I would make not a difference to anyone.  Just like anyone else in anyone’s eyes, I am nobody.
   That is, I am nobody until now.  I have happened across an incredible discovery recently that will no doubt change the world.  It is this discovery, that will perhaps not only mark one of the greatest events in the history of mankind but also the most vital.  The existence of mankind depends on this discovery.  It is crucial that the people of this town know, that perhaps the entire world knows.
   I must however carry this out carefully.  For one, nobody would believe a nobody about nothing.  I also lack the ability to plan this carefully to begin with, so I really do need somebody to help me with this.  There is only one person I know of who might have half a chance of believing what I need to tell, and that one person doesn’t appear to be coming!
   I gazed through the dark parking lot impatiently.  It seemed incredible how the afternoon could have been so scorching, and now, in the midst of the night, it was so terribly chilling.  A couple of paper bags glided along the road, like tumbleweed in the desert.  There was only one lamp in the entire lot, and I dared not turn away from it to face the pitch-black behind me.
   A town clock rang in the distance.  I checked my watch.  It was 1 AM.  Where was he? I should have known he wouldn’t take me seriously.
   While in deep thought, I failed to notice the low, steady humming filling the lot.  Before long, I felt as if I were trapped in a giant dome with incredibly loud and distorted speakers.  My ears felt inverted and putting my hands over them only made it worse.  By now, the actual lot itself had begun to tremble.
   Something hard smacked the back of my head.  I felt lightheaded for a moment and turned around.  All that lay before me was outstretched darkness.  My eyes widened as I realized my mistake, and I spun quickly back around.  It was still dark.  I turned and turned again in place, but I could not find the lamp.  The world all around me had gone black.
   The humming intensified and became a sharp ringing in my head.  I ran forward, desperate to find some sort of landmark to figure out where I was.  I felt the ground beneath one foot rise.  The earth was breaking apart.
   Then it all stopped.  I couldn’t hear a thing, but I felt immense pressure at the front of my face.  The back of my face felt just fine.  My body was paralyzed however.  I couldn’t even lift a finger.  I felt nothing, heard nothing, and saw nothing.
   But my thoughts were louder than ever.
   Where am I? I heard myself think.
   Right here you moron!
   Where is here?
   On the floor like a pathetic worm!
   Why am I on the floor?
   Because you got knocked down!
   I don’t remember being knocked down…
   Well I do!
   How can you remember something I do not?
   Because I am better than you!
   But I am you!
   Says you!
   “Do you like cake or pie?” said a deep, stolid voice.
   I like pie.
   Cake you moron! Wait who’s that?

   I didn’t sleep easy that night.  The wind had risen miraculously; it felt as if the town was in the middle of a hurricane.  Every few moments, something thudded against the wall outside.  I think it was probably a branch of the old oak tree next to the house, but I wasn’t sure.  Every time, the wind picked up, the house was filled with a deafening roar.  The shingles on the roof rattled wildly, and the shutters slammed open and shut, although I do believe I had them padlocked.  If I hadn’t turned up the heat and turned on a little bit of music to listen to, I would be scared stiff.
   Suddenly a bright flash filled the room without a sound.  Was it lightning? I glanced outside the window, but there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.  I flipped the lights on and off, but they produced a dim, incandescent light, rather than the glaring white flare I had seen.  I was very tired, and I probably imagined it.
   I decided to go downstairs for a glass of water.  Every step created a low creaking of the floorboards.  As I neared the kitchen, there was a low dripping noise.  I thought I saw a dark shadow sweep over me, but the entire house was dark so I don’t know what I was thinking.  I switched on the lights.  The faucet was dripping water, even though I don’t recall using it today.  I grabbed a cup from the dishwasher and reached over to turn it up all the way.  Something foul and rotten filled my nostrils.  I gazed down, but there was nothing except the drips of water that had fallen.  Maybe another rat found its death at the blade of the food dispenser; that tends to happen every now and then.
   With the cup of water in hand, I sat down at the diner.  Something was different about the water; I couldn’t figure out what.  I must be imagining things again; I always do when it’s so late.  Without further thought, I gulped down the water, and regret it I did.  The water was filled with dirt.
   I ran over to the kitchen sink and started rinsing my mouth straight from the tap.  Somehow I had forgotten where my water had originally come from, and I ended up spitting my mouth dry.
   What was dirt doing in the tap water? My first impression was that whoever managed the water system had screwed up again, but then again it was pretty stormy tonight.  Perhaps something had broken.  Was the repair still open this late?
   I glanced at the clock.  It was one o’ clock.  One o’ clock.  Did Sam mean one in the morning? That’d be crazy, but Sam was indeed crazy.
   The wind was a lot stronger than it seemed from inside the house.  Several times during the drive, the car skidded sideways and sometimes refused to move against the wind at all.  It might have been my imagination, but to me, it felt that the farther I drove, the stronger the winds got.
   I finally got close enough to see the library in the distance at around twenty-five minutes.  It definitely wasn’t empty.  Something shiny flickered from the lot.  As I approached nearer and nearer, it got larger and larger.  It made everything else around it appear miniaturized.  It looked pretty solid and round.  It was silver and unscathed.  It was huge and out of place.  It was Sam Pete’s car.

   Sam Pete would never leave his car out unattended in such an insecure place.  The hour was very late, and his car stuck out gleaming like a diamond in a pile of coal.  Our town may be small, but we had our own problems just as all other towns did.
   Wait.  It was the dead of night.  My car was shut off, and there were no lights for miles.  How was Sam’s car gleaming?
   I approached slowly, repeatedly glancing from side to side.  Yet, I could not figure out where the light was coming from.  I don’t recall Sam having turned his car into a giant light bulb, though it did look ridiculously like one.
   When I had come within a few feet of the car, I had to shield my eyes and turn away.  The car was that brightly lit.  I even felt a wave of heat radiating off of it.
   I’m not sure what came over me just then, but I had a strange urge to feel how hot the car actually was.  My right hand shot out and went smack into the slick, cold steel.  Cold steel.
   Nevertheless, I felt heat from pouring down upon me.  If not from the car, then from where? As I pulled my hand away, I noticed something strange.  My hand created a thick, solid shadow about the surface of the car.
   Just as I glanced up, the light and heat disappeared, but I saw it.  I glimpsed it.  A huge, white flame hung above me and the car for just a split second, before silently jetting off into the night sky.
11-26-06
   It all seemed like a dream to me.  There was absolutely no sound, almost a similar feel to a silent movie.  It was just too surreal; I must have been dreaming for sure.
   I reached into my pocket, found something round and rubbery, and threw it at Sam’s car to have it rebound straight back at me.  If this was no dream, I should probably feel something.
   As it flew, I caught a glimpse of what I had thrown, but it was too late.  The cap flew off as the green, egg-like object soared through the air.  It missed the exterior of the car completely and crashed through the side window.  For no apparent reason, I jumped up into the air as high as I could, not sure if out of surprise or an attempt to find cover.
   Yet, nothing happened.  I inched my way toward the car to see if the grenade was still there.  My common sense seemed to have eluded for the moment.  I wasn’t sure what I was thinking.
   An explosion sounded from within, followed by the shattering of the car windows, before the metal exterior of the car itself finally ripped apart and shot off in all directions.  I leapt up into the air again, again for no apparent reason.  A sheet of metal somehow struck me just perfectly at my feet to boost me several feet into the air, where force of the explosion caught and threw me up even higher.  I waved my arms frantically to find hold of something.
   Something hit me in the face.  I swear it was a potato, but it was too dark to be certain.  I reached out my right hand as far as I could to find it.  Instead, my hand collided promptly with a cold hard metal.  The rest of my body followed, crushing my outstretched arm and smashing my nose for the third time.

   There was stillness in the pitch-black night.  Not a single creature scurried; not a worm crawled.  Effort to hear even the breathing of one’s own lungs would put strain on the ears, and yet be in vain.  It was a world where a blind, deaf man and the most athletic person in history could stand side by side, eye to eye, and not know the other was there.
   So strange it is to be in such a place, I thought.  Where am I? Who am I? Have I yet to be born?
   I pondered for a moment, searching hard and long for answers I could not find.  At times, I found myself squinting my eyes, only to realize I should be searching my memory instead.  It was difficult to differentiate between the world outside and my very own mind.  Whether I was actually looking about or thinking to myself, I could scarcely tell.  Both my head and the world around me were empty and dark.
   A booming voice echoed from beyond.  “Worthless planet being! We are not worthless planet beings! We are from other planet! We worthful other planet beings! What is your name?!”
   I could not perceive the significance of the statement, nor understand it.  It was as if I was listening to aliens from another planet, but I did not say that, in fear of insulting the seemingly higher beings.
   Instead I questioned back as politely as I could, “Are you God? Am I in heaven? Why is heaven so dark?”
   “WRONG YOU BAFFOON! We are not dog! We eat dog! Tell us your name!”
   This statement, I understood and cheerfully replied, “Ah, so you speak English?”
   After what seemed an eternity, I suddenly noticed a finger against my nose.  The finger was the only object visible amidst the darkness; the hand attached to it was faded away and hidden in the shadows.  It must have been there for some time, for I felt neither pressure nor pain; the nail of it appeared to have been dug deep into my skin.
   Was it my finger? I wondered.  What did my finger even look like?
   I glanced at it again.  Lack of light made it incredibly difficult to examine the finger, but it appeared to be a shade of green.  Several spikes rose off its sides and a strangely familiar sapphire ring enclosed it.
   Was my finger green? Did I have a ring? What is sapphire?
   I pointed my eyes inward and focused more intensely upon it, as it was the only thing there was to look at it, but immediately I experienced a terrible headache.  A sharp numbing pierced my eyes and my brain throbbed feverishly.  My eyes felt as if yanked from their sockets, and I immediately redirected them toward the black space before me.
   What just happened? Why did I feel pain? Should I try again?
   And so I did, only this time, the pain came back twice as strong and my dizziness three times as disorienting.  My brain seemed to have become dislodged from the interior of my skull, spinning independently about.  Was the world spinning with me? I could not tell.  All I could see was the finger still attached to my nose, its nail wedged deeply into my skin, although I could not feel it.
   Then out of nowhere, an alarm rang.  The folds of darkness lifted to reveal a blinding white light.  Deafening noises blasted their way into my eardrums, shredding every one of them.  Memories overwhelmingly flooded back into my head; I felt my scalp burn and stretch, my head ready to burst open.
   I slapped my hand at my head to keep it shut, but it met a small, hard ball.  My headache only grew as I struggled to understand the new revelation.
   Why is my head so small?! I screamed in my mind.  No wonder I have headache!
   After a moment however, I realized the absurdity of my previous statement.  It could be my eyeball.  That would make more sense.  It would also explain my headache if my eye was detached…
   That must mean my head had burst! I realized alarmingly.
   “What are you screaming about?” the voice of an elderly woman grumbled.
   A hard fist collided with my nostrils, freeing the mysterious finger.  My eyes cleared to reveal my surroundings.  The shock of what lay before me almost sent me hurling back into the depths of insanity.
   “Mom?!”

   Slap! It came so hard across my cheek.  I glanced wildly for a moment, bewildered and confused.
   “Mom!” I cried out.  “What was that for?”
   A second, nearly identical woman walked into view behind who I called Mom.  Both looked alike and had on the same clothes.  The second only had slightly longer hair and was smaller in stature.  She stared at me in what appeared to be ghastly shock and disbelief.
   I glanced back at the first woman, who suddenly roared out in an astonishingly deep voice, “I’M YOUR FATHER!”
   Time seemed to stand still just then.  I blinked a few times.  Well, I blinked only once, but that one blink seemed to last forever.  It took me a moment to realize that it was only I who moved slowly, as my supposed father scratched his head and tapped his finger impatiently.
   It all became clear to me just then.  How could I have been so stupid? First not recognizing my own father was bad enough; mistaking him for Mom is just shame.  Then again, I did always confuse the two.  How one confuses his own parents I do not know myself.
   “Tom quit beating our son,” my mother sighed.  “It’s no wonder he can’t remember us.”
   Dad stepped back and sat himself onto a stool, slightly embarrassed but stubborn nonetheless.  “He was the one screaming!” he argued.  “And he called me Mom!”
   “It’s not my fault you both look so alike,” I grumbled.  “Where am I anyways? I can’t remember a thing.”
   Something was itching the back of my mind though; something wasn’t quite right.  What was wrong? Well I couldn’t figure out where I was, but there was something more to it.  Something about my parents…
   Suddenly my dad stood up proudly.  “Son! Have you wondered just where we have been all these years?”
   That one statement was all I needed.  Dad’s lone suggestion set off an avalanche within my head.  Once again, thoughts and memory, I never knew I had, poured into my skull.  It all came back to me in a flash.  Literally.
   “Tom! I told you that was a bad idea!” Mom suddenly cried out.  “You overloaded his poor little head.”
   Machines nearby that I failed to notice before were suddenly flaring red.  An alarm sounded somewhere in the room, and a green tinge lit the walls.  I wasn’t sure where I was, but I knew this wasn’t home.
   “Wendy, you said that over a decade ago!” Dad shouted, straining his voice against the alarm.  “I would think his head has grown at least by now!”
   “Well you were wrong!”