By David Hamell
It was 9:62 at night. Paul had finished vacuuming the dishes and was now waiting for his parents to come home. Forty minutes later, they rushed through the door, looking scared for their lives.
“What’s wrong?” Paul asked.
“It’s finally happened,” his mom said, “I feared this day would come!”
“WHAT?” Paul responded in a noticeably more anxious tone.
“The Gen X virus has reached our town! We need to get out of here!” his dad told him. “Pack your bags! We’re leaving!!”
That’s when the three of them heard screaming in the streets.
“Stay in here,” Paul’s dad cautioned as he opened the door and peeked outside. It was there he saw a man limping in the middle of the road. He had scruffy hair and a white stubble.
“We played outside till’ the streetlights came on!” He was mumbling the same sentence over and over again. Shortly after, several more limping figures appeared in the distance.
“We drank from the hose!” one said.
“Our parents didn’t let us back inside till’ it was time for dinner!”
Paul’s dad slammed the door and used all fifteen locks.
“We can’t go anywhere,” he said in a shaky voice. “Help me barricade the doors and windows! NOW!!!”
“WAIT!” Paul’s mom yelled! “Remember the emergency exit? We can escape to the North Pole!”
“That’s right,” his dad replied. “There’s three hidden emergency exits! They can only be used once!”
“Well where are they?” Paul yelled in distress.
“The oven, the electrical outlet, and the garbage disposal.”
He proceeded to hand Paul a paper clip. The Gen X’rs could be heard pounding on the door in the background.
“You have to stick this paper clip in the outlet,” he said. “It’ll take you straight to the North Pole. As for me, I’ll go in the oven.”
Paul ran over to the outlet and used the paperclip, disappearing into thin air as his mom put her hand down the garbage disposal and flipped the switch, spiraling into a swirl of magic dust. Finally, his dad curled up in the oven and shut the door right as the Gen X’rs broke into the house.
A moment later Paul found himself standing in a giant tunnel of dirt. His parents were nowhere in sight. Confused he was, but he knew he certainly WASN’T at the North Pole. After a moment of inspecting this… strange environment, two glowing red eyes appeared in the distance. Paul turned and ran as fast as he could, but he tripped on a VHS copy of the Star Wars Holiday Special and fell on his face. As he began to pull himself off the ground, he found a giant, monstrous ant staring down at him. He wasn't in Kansas anymore.
The ant brought Paul over to their leader, a crayon with fifteen eyes!
“What brings thou here?”
“I’m terribly sorry, sir! I was simply trying to escape to the North Pole! You see, there’s a Gen X apocalypse outside my home. Now, though, I don’t even know how I’d get back.”
The ant king looked disturbed.
“John,” he said to the ant that had brought forth Paul to his presence, “tell the others to secure the area!”
He looked down at his buffet of crumbs.
“I knew this day would come!”
Suddenly the whole tunnel began to shake. Obnoxious voices could be heard from inside the walls.
“WE WERE THE LAST GENERATION TO PLAY OUTISDE!”
“They’re already here!” Paul screamed.
“Quick,” the ant king told him, “follow me!”
The two ran through the tunnel, though Paul had trouble keeping up because he only had two legs, but he tried his best. The ant king was soon only a distant figure. Paul tried to catch up, but there was dirt crumbling from the walls around him and before he knew it, there was no longer an escape.
When all hope seemed lost, Paul noticed a light behind him. There was quite literally light at the end of the tunnel. Whatever it was, it was moving fast, so he turned back around and started clawing away at the dirt. That’s when he heard his dad yell “PAUL! COME ON! LET’S GET OUT OF HERE!”
He turned around and saw Santa! On his sleigh and everything! His parents were sitting right behind him. Paul hopped on and they all started spinning. The next thing they knew, they were at the North Pole. “You guys can stay here until the Gen X apocalypse resolves,” he told them.
“Do you know why this is happening?” Paul asked.
“Well,” Santa said, “these folks are extra cranky this time of year. I guess this season they just… snapped.”
Suddenly, a mumbling voice could be heard in the distance.
“You kids have no idea what the ‘80s and ‘90s were like!”
The four of them looked around, but none could see more than twenty feet away with the wind and snow blowing in their faces. Another voice could be heard in the distance.
“We had to walk a mile to school and didn’t come back home until it was time for dinner!”
That’s when they appeared. Paul, his family, and Santa were all surrounded by angry Gen X’rs.
“They’ve grown old and grumpy,” Santa said, “I know just the thing to do!”
His elves ran out and gave each of them a gift. Paul could see the misery and pettiness drain from their faces as they unwrapped the boxes.
“It’s time to send you guys back,” Santa said.
With that, Paul and his parents returned home and everything went back to normal. Also their dog speaks English now.
THE END
David Hamell is in 12th grade. He likes writing comedy, satire, horror, and mix-genre stories. NOT POETRY!!! He is allergic to poetry. He's also hoping to publish his own book sometime soon!
David has four pieces in this year's Troubadour because he is a writing MACHINE! The Troubadour encourages everyone to read his guides on how to get all the attention at funerals and how to host an elite Christmas dinner. They are absolutely amazing!