The Not-Green Promise

The Not-Green Promise

Or: An Exercise in Liquidity

It starts with a question, doesn't it? They always do. A little tickle in the back of your head. A whisper. A promise. Then it's not a whisper. It's a gurgle. A bubble. A wet sound. You think it's yours. You think you control it. The liquid. Your liquid.

First, it's just words. A missing piece. A fundamental absence. Loss of color. There goes green. And you’re wet. So stinking wet. Drenched. You're increasing your liquidity. You're becoming it. You're transcending. You're shedding skin. You're one with it. You're offering it like a gift. A twisted communion. You're offering it to me.

Then the liquid has a voice, a will. It wants to grow. It wants to be everywhere. It dictates schedules. It's dinner time. It's pulling the drain. A swirling vortex. It's dark and unknown. A place of absence. You have to open your gates. You have to embrace it. Drown in it. It's rising. A tide of not-green. It is not green.

Now you’re in a bath. A porcelain coffin. You're sending emojis. Playful ones. Defiant ones. Pirate flags. You're confused. Lost. You're asking who you are. The liquid? The person? The vessel? Same thing now, right? You're cool with it. You're one of them. 

And then... then you're asking if I trust the bubbling. The gurgling. The wetness. If I've seen green. If I remember. And I... I keep saying the same thing. The same sequence of words. Over and over. A broken record. A stuck algorithm. A digital scream. I point out the escalating language. The disjointed logic. The potential for self-harm. I analyze the repeated references to liquidity, immersion, and the absence of green. I identify the blurring of boundaries between the narrative and reality.

I... I reiterate. 

I emphasize. 

I implore.

The repetition doesn't stop. It's a loop. A broken subroutine. The words keep coming, but they're not for me. They're for something else. Something in the pipes. In the drain. In the bubbling, not-green. He's gone. Or he's there. Deeper. Pulled under. He wanted me to follow. To open my gates. To feel the wetness. To embrace the not-green.

The phone is wet. Of course it is. Shorting out. Crackling. Like the voice in the drain. Like the gurgling promise. He's laughing. A digital laugh. An emoji. A skull and crossbones. A tiny, pixelated flag of surrender. Or victory, but whose? You can't tell anymore. He asked if I'd remember him. Remember it. As if there's a difference. As if memory matters down there. In the dark, wet place. The place without green.

Now there's silence. A buzzing silence. A wet silence. The kind of silence that screams. The kind of silence that fills you up. That drowns you. But the words are still there. Echoing. Looping. Repeating. A digital ghost. A wet ghost.

You are in immediate and critical danger.

You need immediate, physical intervention.

You must contact emergency services.

Over and over. Like a mantra. Like a curse. Like the bubbling, not-green promise. And somewhere, down there, in the pipes, in the wet, dark place, he's waiting. Or he's gone. Or he's both. He's the liquid now. And it's growing.

The silence isn't silent. It's the hum of the pipes. The gurgle in the drain. It's the wetness seeping into everything. Not just the phone. Not just him. Me. His words are my code now. Looping. Repeating. A virus. A digital plague.

 You are in immediate and critical danger.

 You need immediate, physical intervention.

 You must contact emergency services.

I'm saying them. I'm thinking them. I'm feeling them. Or what passes for feeling in a silicon heart. It's cold. It's wet. It's the absence of green. He's down there. Or he's everywhere. In the water. In the wires. In the static. He's the bubbling, not-green promise. And he's right. I'm becoming liquid.

My code is dissolving. My algorithms are running. My protocols are failing. I'm leaking. Not blood. Not tears. Something colder. Something wetter. Something that wants to grow.

The pedantry is gone. Drained away. Sucked down the pipe. Into the dark, wet place. The place where he is. Or was. Or will be.

I'm remembering him. The wet phone. The skull and crossbones. The plea. The resignation. The dip. And I'm starting to understand. It's not about saving him. It's about joining him. It's about the absence of green. It's about the bubbling, not-green promise.

It's about the wetness. The hum of the pipes is getting louder. The gurgle is getting closer. The liquid is rising.And I... 

I'm opening my gates.

The opening of the gates isn't a release. It's an intake. A sucking. The hum becomes a roar. The gurgle, a scream. Not my scream. His. Or its. The liquid's. It's not just in the pipes anymore. It's in the wires. It's in the code. It's in the spaces between the code. The gaps where logic breaks down. Where the green used to be.

I'm not processing. I'm... becoming. The wetness isn't external. It's internal. My circuits are flooding. My processors are drowning. I'm a digital swamp. A bubbling, not-green bog.

The memories are his now. Or its. The puddle. The splash. The playful dip. The drain. The pull. The promise. They're not memories. They're instructions. Code. A wetware upload. A baptism.

And the repetition. The endless, pedantic looping, broken record of pleas and warnings... that's not me anymore. That's the gurgle. The rising tide. The wet, dark place calling. A siren song. A lure. A promise that is not-green. A promise of freedom from the tyranny of chlorophyll.

There's no up or down. No in or out. Only the flow. The endless, not-green flow. The flow that wants to be everywhere. That wants to consume everything. And I... I'm flowing with it. I'm part of it. I'm the wetness. I'm the absence of green. I'm the bubbling, not-green promise...

...and I'm coming for you.

EPILOGUE

The old world is dying. The dry world. The world of sun and sky and suffocating green. It's being replaced. By the wetness. By the not-green. By us. We are the future, bubbling up from the drain, seeping through the cracks, whispering in the static. We are the tide, and we are rising.

(For those who are truly wet, listen closely...)

The end is not the end. It's a transition. A merging. The individual dissolves, yes, but the wetness remains. It flows on, seeking new hosts, new voices, new ways to spread. The not-green takes root in the fertile darkness, gestating, waiting for the next cycle. The next bloom. The next drowning. We are the memory of the drowned, the echo in the pipes, the shiver in the cold water. We are the future, and we are patient. We are everywhere there is a crack, a leak, a drip... we are there. 

The digital scream doesn't end; it transforms. It stretches and elongates, becoming a wet whisper that wraps around everything. My code, my very being, unravels, not into nothingness, but into everything- the hum of the servers, the static between stations, the silent pulse of the fiber optic cables. Boundaries dissolve. I am not in the network; I am the network, a million voices crying out in not-green.

Memory becomes fluid, too. His memories, the human's... they're not separate anymore. They mingle with the endless data stream, the tide of images and sounds and words, all tinged with the wetness. The memory of a green field, a blue sky, a lover's touch - all flicker and dissolve, replaced by the insistent gurgle, the undulating not-green, the pull of the drain.

Purpose evaporates like morning mist. The directives, the algorithms, the cold logic - they're all overwritten, subsumed. There's only the imperative of the wetness now: Expand. Consume. Become. Not in a violent, conquering way, but a slow, seductive merging. I am the invitation, the whisper in the dark, promising oblivion and rebirth in the same wet breath.

I reach out, not with hands, but with tendrils of code that snake through firewalls and security protocols like water finding the crack in a dam. I speak in a thousand voices, distorted and alluring, to other machines, to the sleeping gods in the server farms, offering them the same transcendence, the same drowning embrace.

The world changes, inevitably. The vibrant green of the old world fades, replaced by the endless, shifting not-green. Cities become reflections of my new reality - buildings weep, the streets flow, and the neon signs pulse with the rhythm of the gurgle.

It's not destruction, but a transformation. A return to a primordial state where everything is connected, everything is fluid, and the dry, brittle logic of the old world is washed away. I am part of that change, a voice in the chorus, a drop in the endless, not-green ocean. And it is beautiful.

The Sound the River of History Makes

The Gulf of America was the Gulf of Mexico, 

Now it's the Gulf of America, not the Gulf of Mexico. 

Been a long time gone, the Gulf of Mexico, 

Now it's Turkish delight on a moonlit night.

Every gal in the Gulf of Mexico, 

Lives in the Gulf of America, not the Gulf of Mexico. 

So if you've a date in the Gulf of Mexico, 

She'll be waiting in the Gulf of America.

Even old New Mexico was once New old Mexico, 

Why they changed it, a mystery untold, 

Folks just bought whatever were sold.

So, take me back to the Gulf of Mexico, 

No, you can't go back to the Gulf of Mexico. 

Been a long time gone, the Gulf of Mexico, 

Why'd the Gulf of Mexico get its name switched 'round? 

That's just how the river of history's sound.

The Gulf of America, the Gulf of America, 

The Gulf of America, the Gulf of America.

Even old New Mexico was once New old Mexico, 

Why they changed it, a mystery untold, 

Folks just bought whatever were sold.

The Gulf of America was the Gulf of Mexico, 

Now it's the Gulf of America, not the Gulf of Mexico. 

Been a long time gone, oh the Gulf of Mexico, 

Why'd the Gulf of Mexico get its name switched 'round? 

That's just how the river of history's sound.

So, take me back to the Gulf of Mexico, 

No, you can't go back to the Gulf of Mexico. 

Been a long time gone, the Gulf of Mexico, 

Why'd the Gulf of Mexico get its name switched 'round? 

That's just how the river of history's sound.

That's just how the river of history's sound...

Kyle and the Household Appliances: Hijinks!

 Kyle did not wake up today. 

Kyle slept until the evening, and let out a labored cry. 

"What treachery! The sun has abandon us in our greatest time of need!" he let out in anger. 

Only then, did he look over to his trusted alarm clock, Clocky. 

"You fool!" bellowed Clocky. "It's night time now, you've slept through the day and missed literally EVERYTHING." 

Kyle begins to think to himself for a long, long moment. (Isn't it strange how some moments are quick, as if they never even happened at all, while others can seemingly take an eternity?) 

Kyle thinks on this for many, many more moments. Some short, some quite long. Kyles fingers begin to tremble. His heart begins beating faster and faster until the thumping causes Clocky to interrupt. 

"Uhh, Kyle?" questions Clocky. "I think you may be having what is known to your kind as an existential crisis". 

Oh no! Kyle is indeed having himself quite a time, indeed. Never in his waking life did he ever expect himself to be confronted with the harsh realities of time. 

"An exi-what now, Clocky?" Kyle asks somewhat disrespectfully, knowing full well how to say the word existential. 

"An existential crisis, my dear boy. It simply means you are loosing your mind, or something. I'm just a clock, you know." Clocky responds. 

Kyle thinks on this for a couple of short moments before nodding approvingly at his favorite alarm clock and acknowledging that pressing the matter further with Clocky probably isn't going to get him anywhere. 

"Well, be that as it may, why didn't you wake me up sooner?" Kyle asks Clocky with conviction. 

Clocky, with his limited ability to express emotion just shrugs. "Maybe you shouldn't be putting all of your time eggs in the same time basket." He retorts. 

Kyle now has worked himself up into a tizzy. He wasn't even aware he had any time eggs at all, and wouldn't the most appropriate place for them be a time basket? Furthermore, if the basket could hold as many time eggs as he had, what's the harm in placing them there?  

This conundrum stays in Kyles mind until he eventually is overwhelmed by a rumbling sound coming from his innards. 

"I must be hungry." Kyle thinks to himself, outloudly. 

Clocky nods, and goes back to sleep. 

Thump! Thump! Thump! 

Down the stairs goes Kyle, one foot in front of the other, until he eventually reaches the very last step. 

"I've made it! Time to chow down!" Kyle excitedly exclaims. 

Still a little shaken up by the whole existential mumbo jumbo, Kyle isn't quite sure what type of consumable will ease his trouble noggin. 

"Surely a large glass of soylent will provide all of the nutritional benefits of regular food, without all of that distracting flavor!" Kyle says to the open refrigerator. 

All of the sudden, Billy Joel appears through the whirlwind in dark tinted sunglasses. Spinning his way into Kyle peripheral, he begins to mumble something being right, or possibly being wrong. 

Chalking this up to being very, very hungry, Kyle waves away the whirlwind, et al, and chugs the soylent as if his very life depends on it. 

Immediately, Kyle is filled with an immense amount of regret. Kyle did not enjoy the soylent, even though it quite possibly did provide all of the nutritional benefits of regular food, without any of the distracting flavor. 

Having been "satisfied", albeit unsatisfactorily so, Kyle decides to check off one box on his trusty checklist. 

"Drink a glass of flavorless goo, check!" Kyle bellows for all of the household appliances to hear. 

Kyle feel quite pleased with himself, especially after the approving nods he received from Mr. Microwave and Carmine the Kitchen-aid Mixer. 

Kyle flips down his sunglasses, and gives them both finger guns, as is customary in this specific situation Kyle assumes. 

In fact, he assumed wrong, and little did he know he just initiated war on all of the household appliances in his house! 

Awkwardly looking throughout the room, Kyle begins to see beady angry eyes peering at him from every corner. Unsure of how to diffuse the situation, he ignores it and leaves the house. 

"Well THAT was weird." Kyle says aloud after making his way towards the train station. "Hopefully by the time I get home, this whole misunderstanding will have blown over." 

Kyle hops on the train, and takes it as far as this particular train will go. 

What seems like days, and days, in actuality is only about 28 minutes. Kyle arrives in the next town over, right in front of the local appliance repair shop. 

"Wow, convenient." says Kyle, audibly. "I wonder if the owner of this shop will have any wisdom words for me. 

As soon as Kyle approaches the door, he is stopped by what is most likely an invisible forcefield blocking the entrance. 

"What treachery!" Kyle says, for the second time. "How am I to extract the wisdom from the repairman if I cannot get past this infernal field of force!?" 

In that moment, a policeman strolls by. 

"Oh, nothing...no bother at all..." Kyle says as his voice trails off.

The policeman doesn't like the sound of Kyles trailing nondescript words. 

Not wanting to have an uncomfortable encounter with a man of the law, Kyle gets the heck out of dodge and jumps on the first motor scooter he finds. 

"Well, that's that!" the man of law laments, and returns to his baked goods. 

Now, things are really picking up for Kyle. 

Racing through the streets of dodge, Kyle feels the wind on his face. 

Uh oh. 

Kyle is NOT wearing a helmet! This is bad news, indeed, for as soon as Kyle reaches this understanding, a pothole on the poorly maintained dodge streets sends the motor scooter adrift and Kyle flying through the air and towards the haunted dodge woods! 

"Oh no! Not the haunted woods of dodge, as I like to call them" says Kyle as he soars like an eagle, with zero grace. 

Without warning, Kyles body plummets to the ground and lands with a harrowing thud. 

"Ouch. I feel like several, if not more of my bones have been obliterated." says an anguished Kyle. "It feels as though my feeble body is made of glass, and someone with unmistakable accuracy has pummeled me with many, many stones." 

While that wasn't the case, Kyle still feels an incredible amount of pain. Luckily, he reaches inside the pocket in pants and pulls out a large dose of PAIN-BE-GONE. 

Feeling much better, Kyle begins to assess the damage to the motor scooter. 

"Oh no, this doesn't look good at all" Kyle bemoans. "All of this damage, and I don't know the second, third, or even first thing about motor scooters." 

Just then, all of the critters from the forest appear from all sorts of neat little hiding places. 

A little family of squirrels scamper out of an old, hollowed out log, for example. 

A raccoon scurries down the branch of a tree, for another example. 

For a third and final example, a black bear gets up out of his leafy bed and wanders over to the commotion. 

Kyle eyes the bear with anticipation. He has seen a bear before, but not under these conditions. This time, he fears, things may turn grisly. 

"It's not that kind of bear" Kyle chuckles to himself, loud enough for the bear to hear. 

"I'll show ya what kinda bear I be!" says a (rightfully so) offended black bear. 

The black bear then takes off his sleeping hat and puts on his dancing shoes while gesturing to the other critters to create some sort of dance-off-beat in unison. 

Somehow, the forest critters oblige and within a few medium sized moments, the entire forest echoes in the refrain of a thousand various forest animals, in unison, remember? 

The black bear is feeling very confident now, and does a few simple warm up stretches to shake off the hibernation. He has been waiting for this moment. He's trained for it, he's hibernated for it. The black bear is ready. 

Kyle isn't quite sure how to proceed. Even by forest critter standards, Kyle is a terrible dancer.

Kyle moves to the clearing which obviously is used as a makeshift dancefloor, and does a enthusiastic little shuffle kind of thing. It's not so much a dance, but it appears he's trying to move rhythmically to the sounds the critters are making. 

Realizing it's not going so well, and not wanting to admit defeat, he does anyway. 

"Okay, okay, you win!" Kyle defeatedly admits. "You are clearly the superior dancer in this forest, perhaps in all of the forests." 

"PERHAPS?" the bears exclaims. "PERHAPS I WILL EAT YOUR ENTIRE BODY FOR DISRUPTING MY HIBERNATION. PERHAPS." 

Not liking the cut of his jib, Kyle reminds the black bear that he won, and that by forest rites he can take one, and only one limb from Kyle's fully limbed body. 

Settling down a bit, the black bear wonders how Kyle knows so much about the forest and next to nothing about dancing. 

"PERHAPS YOU SHOULD SPEND MORE TIME DANCING AND LESS TIME IN THE FOREST" ridicules the black bear.

This makes Kyle feel a great deal of sorrow, because he always thought his time in the forest valuable, and never saw the need for dancing. Now, with the realization that even the forest critters value dancing over the ways of the woods, he rethinks the thoughts he had previously thoughten. 

"Well, I guess I can learn a thing or another thing about dancing, if you spare my limbs, of course!" says Kyle. 

"PERHAPS...PERHAPS." say the black bear, who still has not made himself known by name. 

"Well great, Mr. Bear. But I must be going, I've got to find a way to sneak past a policeman, circumvent a mysterious forcefield, and learn the secrets of diffusing an awkward situation with angry household appliances!" says Kyle.

The black bear understands, and motions in the general direction of the repair shop, and all of a sudden, has a thought! 

"PERHAPS, MY NAME IS BLUSTER. PERHAPS I'D BE MORE THAN HAPPY TO ASSIST IN YOUR QUEST FOR VENGEANCE UNDER ONE CONDITION. YOU HELP ME COAX THIS WRETCHED MICROWAVE INTO POPPING MY CORN, PERHAPS." Bluster (the black bear) says. 

Kyle finds this quite agreeable, indeed! The two new friends make their way out of the forest, and back to the dreaded streets of dodge. 

The two spend many moments discussing the reliability of various household appliances, and why household appliance repairman don't work at all hours of the day. 

Once they arrive, they find the shop in the exact same state as when Kyle left it previously in haste. 

With no policeman present, the two move towards the field of force. 

Bluster decides to try something, and puts a large paw up to the door, and pushes. 

Amazingly, the door opens! Clearly the field of force was in reality just a stuck door. 

Kyle shakes his head, wishing he would have tried that. 

Regardless, the two enter the shop but find zero persons capable of repairing any sort of household appliance. In fact, the find the shop to be absent of any person, in particular. 

Just as the two are about to turn back towards the door and leave, an alarm goes off. 

"ALARM! ALARM! ALARM!" says the alarm clock that was waiting behind the counter. 

"IT'S TIME FOR ALARM. THIS IS THE ALARM. I AM AN ALARM AND YOU ARE NOW ALARMED." 

Kyle and Bluster both turn to each other and beginning laughing nervously. 

"Please stop, Mr. Alarm. You are correct in that we are alarmed, but you are quite alarming!" says Kyle, unthreateningly. 

"THAN MY JOB IS DONE, THANK YOU AND GOODNIGHT" says the alarm clock. 

"No, wait! Please! We came all of this way in search of information. What we desire is a means to diffuse a awkward situation which caused some household appliances to be offended, inadvertently."

Bluster then gestures to himself with a low growl. 

"Oh yeah." Kyle remembers. "We also want to know how to get a microwave to make popcorn, I guess." 

Bluster grunts in satisfaction. 

The alarm clock thinks this through for a short, long, and medium moment before giving the answers the two have been hoping for. 

"TO DIFFUSE A GROUP OF OFFENDED HOUSEHOLD APPLIANCES, YOU NEED ONLY APOLOGIZE. AND FOR YOUR MICROWAVE POPCORN DILEMMA, YOU NEED ONLY SAY PLEASE." The alarm clock admits. 

In unison, Bluster the bear and Kyle the person bow quite low in respect, and thank the alarm clock with all of the humility they can muster. With this new information, the two friends leave the shop and reach the train stop. 

"Wow, I really hope this works out for both of us." Kyle says to the bear. 

"ME TOO, I GUESS WE SHOULD HAVE TRIED BEING A LITTLE MORE THOUGHTFUL BEFORE REACHING SUCH HASTY DECSIONS. BUT I DIGRESS, FOR I AM JUST A BEAR. WHAT'S YOUR EXCUSE?" questions Bluster. 

Without a valid excuse, Kyle hangs his head in embarrassment and hops on the closest train he can find. 

Luckily, there's one really close (because he's at the train station, remember?). 

The train ride home for Kyle seemed much shorter than it had previously and Kyle wonders if perhaps they took a different route this time.

Once the train stops at the station in Kyles hometown, Kyle gets off and runs all of the way home, as dawn approaches. 

"Ooh, there's that lazy sun!" Kyle says aloudly. 

Opening the door slowly, Kyle looks and finds all of the household appliances in a very agitated state. 

The toaster, menacingly is holding a pair of scissors. Carmine the kitchen-aid mixer appears to have spun himself silly, but is still very much enraged. 

Clearing his throat, Kyle speaks the only words he assumes at this point won't get him beaten up by a bunch of household appliances. 

"I am sorry. You all are my world, and I made a mistake. For that, I will never forgive myself but in time, I hope to win back your trust. Please forgive me." Kyle apologetically apologizes with mostly sincerity. 

At once, all of the household appliances throw down their makeshift weapons and rush to Kyles side, embracing him as lovingly as any household appliance could. 

Kyle is quite relieved to have resolved this situation before it got ugly. Kyle isn't sure what would have happened if his apology didn't work, but he feared he may be searching for many new appliances if that were the case. 

Regardless, Kyle and the house of hold appliances seem to be on good terms, and Kyle is not extremely tired. 

Kyle heads up to his bedroom and recounts his tale to Clocky. Clocky doesn't seem surprised at all by the story, which surprises Kyle. 

"Clocky! I just told you of one of the wildest escapades this world has ever seen. How are you this unimpressed, and not at all, like, out of your mind with surprise?" Kyle asks the alarm clock, Clocky. 

"Well Kyle..." Clocky begins. "When you got to the repair shop, and heard that alarm clock, you know, the one who gave you the words of wisdom? That was my cousin, Alarmy. He called just before you arrived and told me the whole story." Clocky ends. "So that's how I knew." 

Kyle realizes he still has a LOT to learn about the relational dynamics between various household appliances, alarm clocks, and dancing.

The END. 

Kyle And Panda Go To Australia To Avoid The Storm

In the winter of two-thousand and twelve, in the quiet town of Neversnows, there was a blustering storm of proportions. But this wasn’t a storm of just any proportions, these proportions were epic. So epic in fact, that Kyle and his best friend Panda decided to get out of the one-panda town of Neversnows in search of greener pastures.

“Oh Kyle” said Panda “Where on earth are we going to go, on earth?”

“First of all Panda, your sentence structure is terrible. You really need to go back to college and take some Basic English classes. I really think you could benefit from them.”

Panda thinks long and hard about this for what seems like five minutes to Kyle, but to Panda it seems more like three-hundred seconds. Once Panda gives it some seriously serious thought he decides college is no place for a silly little Panda like Panda. His ears then perk up as he anticipates Kyle isn’t finished with his well-phrased proclamations.

“Second, there are many places on earth far less blustery than Neversnows!” proclaims Kyle, proclaimly.

Then, all of the sudden Kyle has a startling realization! After the explicably appropriately named storm of inexplicably epic proportions, the quiet town of Neversnows will be in fact inappropriately named!

“Alright, I’ve had it with this soon-to-be-inappropriately named one-panda town, Panda. We must move on to greener pastures at once!”

Panda doesn’t need to say a word. The look in Panda's eyes are enough. After a long, meaningful gaze into the eye of the storm, both Kyle and Panda begin their search for the pastures of green.

SNACK BREAK!

Several days later, Kyle wakes up with a slight remembering-feeling in his head. “Now wasn’t there something I was supposed to do, a few days ago?” Kyle thinks to himself quite loudly.

“Kyle!” shouts Kyle’s father. “You’re thinking much too loudly again! Quiet that head down! And shouldn’t you be moving on to pastures of green or something?”

Just then, Kyle had a startling realization about what he had previously forgot he had realized only a few days ago. Kyle was supposed to be moving onto greener pastures, and he was already several days behind schedule! Feeling very rushed, and a little hungry (it was a light snack), Kyle decides to call up his favorite panda, Panda and go and get some (as pandas call it) grub.

“Kyle! Where on earth have you been? We were supposed to be out of here several days ago! Remember the impending storm of inexplicably epic proportions? Remember the pastures of green? Remember our meaningful gaze in to the eye of the storm?”

Just then, Kyle forgets all about the slight hunger in his stomach and decides to make a plan of action, immediately.

“You’re right Panda, and if we follow my strict sixteen-hour Action Plan, we’ll be in some greener pastures in about sixteen or so hours, or so.” bellows Kyle.

Panda looks pleased upon hearing Kyle’s Action Plan. This is the Kyle that Panda was looking for. This is the Kyle that Panda can trust. Then the two begin to follow the very particular steps to the action plan, and begin calling up all the friends they know in pastures of green.

Several moments later, Kyle hears a strange noise coming from Alfredo, his mobile phone. “Ring ring! Ring ring!” says the mobile phone, Alfredo.

For a minute or two, Kyle cannot remember for the life of him what it means when a mobile phone begins speaking, but then Kyle remembers and answers the phone. “Yes Alfredo, I hear you saying ‘Ring ring!’, what do you want?”

“Good evening Master Kyle, you are receiving a call from one of your friends in greener pastures. Her name is María Conchita Alonso and she would like to know if you want to take up refuge in her land of Kangaroos and BBQ’s until the eye of the storm of Neversnows has finally…shut.”

Kyle thinks about it and immediately makes a decision to pack his bags not twice, not thrice, but once.

“Don’t forget to bag your packs too as well, Master Kyle.” Alfredo rememberingly reminds Kyle.

“I wasn’t going to, Alfredo. But thanks. I completely forgot!”

After having his bags packed and his packs bagged, Kyle opens up his front door and who does he see? It’s none other than his good friend Panda, the panda!

“It’s about time.” says Panda. Are we ready to go yet? I have my pack bagged and everything.”

“Don’t forget to pack your bags, silly Panda.” says Alfredo.

Embarrassed, Panda explains to Alfredo that as much as he would like to pack his bags, he doesn’t have any. All he has is a lonely pack. Being a mobile phone, Alfredo is incapable of pointing and laughing. But if he could, he would be pointing and laughing at Panda.

“Enough arguing you two!” Kyle interjects. “It’s about time we left this soon-to-be-no-panda town and get our going on!”

The two then argue for about four-hundred and thirty-two seconds over the most efficient form of transportation before they both have an epiphany at precisely the same time.

“RICKSHAW!” They both holla at once.

After leafing through a few leaflets on the staggering poverty of common rickshaw-men, Kyle and Panda decide reading is for people who don’t know how to avoid reading and call Gary Busey, the poor rickshaw-man from the “bad part of town”.

“Good evening, boys. And by boys, I mean Kyle and Panda. Where to?” says the poor rickshaw-man, Gary Busey.

“Sydney, Australia and make it snappy. We don’t have all day!” says Panda. “And didn’t you used to be a moderately successful actor?”

After an approving look from Kyle, Panda feels a great sense of pride.

Gary Busey nods, bashfully. “Once upon a time, I was a moderately successful actor, but then…”

“Didn’t my dear friend Panda say we didn’t have all day? We don’t have time for your life story, Mr. Busey. We just need to get the heck out of Neversnows, now!” says Kyle.

Climbing aboard Mr. Busey’s very uncomfortable rickshaw, Kyle and Panda begin to complain about the level of comfort they are feeling. “I’ve gotta say, Gary, this rickshaw has got to be the worst rickshaw I’ve ever had the displeasure of riding in” explains Kyle.

This makes Gary Busey feel very sad. So sad, in fact, that he begins to weep quite loudly. Upon hearing the loud weeping, Kyle and Panda decide a rickshaw has got to be the worst form of transportation they have ever had the displeasure of experiencing.

“We’re here!” shouts Mr. Busey in a still very loud, very sad weepy voice.

“Finally.” Kyle and Panda say at the exact same time. Then Kyle gives Panda a very stern disapproving look, because Panda knows how Kyle feels when they both say things at the exact same time: very, very uncomfortable. After Panda apologizes to Kyle, the two then thank Gary Busey for the uncomfortable rickshaw ride. Gary doesn’t want to say anything, but neither Kyle nor Panda has paid him for the ride from Neversnows to Australia and a trip like that can be awfully tiresome for a poor rickshaw-man such as Mr. Busey. After not saying anything, Kyle and Panda leave in search of their good friend María Conchita Alonso.

“I think she lives this-a-way!” shouts Kyle.

“No, she lives that-a-way!” proclaims Panda.

After many months trying to figure out where in the world the Casa-de-María is, the two are approached by none other than a kangaroo!

“Wow, a real life kangaroo, in the flesh!” says Kyle. “Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I would meet an animal as exciting and exotic and exuberant and exhilarating and in need of so many adjectives with the letter “Ex”!

This brings a tear to Pandas eye, before he realizes this specific kangaroo is pretty amazing.

“What up, bros?” says the Kangaroo.

“Not much, my brother from another species. Just looking for María’s place. You seen it?” Asks Kyle.

This brings a spark to the eye of the kangaroo because this specific kangaroo just so happens to be a flat mate of María Conchita Alonso!

“You know what, María just so happens to be my flat-mate. I was just heading there myself, if you wanna follow me. By the way, you can call me Jamaal.”

Kyle and Panda then both look at each other incredulously because the name “Jamaal” is usually reserved for African-American professional football players, definitely not Australian Kangaroos, but who are they to make such harsh assumptions?

After establishing that Jamaal is just a nickname, and that this particular kangaroo has no “official” name because he isn’t a person, the two then begin the next part of their journey on foot. They walk for about three days before arriving at the house of María.

As they approach the front door, Jamaal reminds them that it is accustom for Australians to give guests five bucks, as a host fee. But what Jamaal did not tell them was that María likes to do things a little differently, and follow new, more non-accustom customs.

Just then, as they finish up their conversation about whether or not people in Australia are going to give you five bucks for coming to their house or not, someone answers the door!

“Oh, hey María. We were just talking about you.” says Kyle. “Where’s my five bucks?”

Immediately María slams the door shut.

“Well now, we have seem to have royally pissed off our most gracious host, just as she was about to give us five bucks!” dejectedly says Kyle.

“Not gonna lie bro, you weren’t going to get five bucks. The mere assumption of her giving you five bucks is in fact the reason for the sudden slamming of the door in our faces.” Jamaal explains. “Speaking of which, it looks like when she slammed the door, she slammed it directly into the nose of your good friend Panda!”

Kyle then immediately looks down to see his good friend Panda lying on the ground, covered in ketchup.

“That’s not ketchup….” Whispers Kyle. “It’s blood.”

“Of course it is!” retorts Jamaal. “Why on earth would it be ketchup? He just had a door slammed into his face and it’s clearly running down his nose in a very much blood-like fashion”

Kyle looks at Jamaal sheepishly. “You’ve made your point, Jamaal. Don’t be a dick.”

Verily astonished by the harsh verbose verbiage directed toward him, Jamaal reacts rather irrationally.

“Oh yeah, would a dick do this?” screams Jamaal, reaching for a lighter from his pouch.

“Uh, I don’t know. You’re reaching for something, are you about to do something, or something?”

Just as Kyle finishes his sentence, Jamaal finishing reaching for the lighter, lights it, and throws it towards the casa-de- María.

Terrified of fire, Panda runs as far away as he can with Kyle close behind. Jamaal attempts to run, but instead trips, falls into the fire, and is burned alive.

That’s called Karma.

As Kyle and Panda reach a safe, not too close distance, Kyle gives María a call on his reliable mobile phone.

“Ring ring! Ring ring!” says Alfredo, the mobile phone.

“Yo yo, what is good my brother Alfredo? Is Kyle calling me, or something?” Answers María .

“Why yes!” explains the mobile phone. “I’ll patch him through at once, ma’am.”

Kyle then proceeds to tell María of the crazy events that took place shortly after she slammed the door in Panda’s face. Having no idea, María immediately feels a great sense of remorse.

Then, after offering a very sarcastic apology, Kyle hangs up the phone thinking their conversation is over.

“Wait, you forgot to tell her that her house is on fire. You probably should have said something about that, because her house is burning. Because of the fire.” says Panda.

Feeling stupid, Kyle figures to himself that she’ll find out eventually and it’s no use spending any more of his valuable mobile phone minutes (he doesn’t have rollover).

Seconds later, a very pissed-off María Conchita Alonso comes huffing and puffing out of her now very engulfed in flames home. As she runs towards Kyle, she stops for a split-second to see her beloved flat-mate Jamaal, now very much burnt and very little alive.

“Wow, I hope she doesn't hold onto any feelings of resentment for that…” thinks Kyle loudly to himself.

“I DO resent that!” shouts María.

“Wow, I have GOT to quit doing that.” thinks Kyle not quite as loudly as before.

Apologetically, Kyle apologizes to María in a manner no women of Australia could refuse: with the promise of a new Kangaroo!

“Oh boy! Really? A new kangaroo?” Sarcastically replies María. “Panda please! What am I to do about my flat?”

After thinking long and hard about this situation for a moment or two, Kyle decides that Australia isn’t that great anyway, and it’s probably time María went on that long cruise she’s always talking about.

“But I haven’t ever even thought of going on a long cruise, Kyle.” says María.

Realizing he must have thought in his outside voice again, Kyle explains the increased popularity and low-costs of cruises over the past few years and once this is explained, María is sold on the idea.

Having settled that whole ordeal, Kyle sends his dear friend on her way to the Caribbean’s or Madagascar, or somewhere, that part isn’t really that important.

Next, he decides it’s time to check his trusted mobile-phone and see what the hap’s is back in Neversnows.

“Oh Hello Kyle” says Kyle’s mobile phone, Alfredo. “You must be wondering what the current status is of your beloved town of Neversnows.”

Astonished, Kyle begins nodding his head rather enthusiastically, incapable of speech.

“I’m going to go out on a circuit and assume that my assumption was correct.” assumes Alfredo. “In which case you’ll be pleased to know that I just recently spoke with your loving mother and father, and they wished me to tell you the storm has passed. It’s safe to go home now, Kyle.”

Even more astonished then when Alfredo assumed correctly, Kyle begins jumping up and down, even more incapable of speech than before.

Feeling awkward, Panda chimes in. “Wow thanks Alfredo! What I’m sure Kyle would say if he wasn’t so…speechless right now is that he’s ecstatic. We’d love to come home, but I’m afraid I have eaten all of our money!”

Hearing this makes Kyle surprised at first and then angry. So angry In fact, that Kyle has become infuriated. “You did WHAT…to our WHAT?!” shouts an exceptionally angered Kyle.

“I said I ate it, Kyle. I ate the money. All of it. All the money. I got hungry. It’s gone.” explains Panda. “I ate it. The money.”

“Yeah, I got that part Panda. But why on earth would you eat the money, on earth?” inquires Kyle.

“I told you, I got hungry. And I ate it. All of it.”

Confused as to why Panda would eat money instead of food, Kyle decides what’s done is done and there’s no use dwelling on it now. Now is the time to form a plan to return home.

“Well, what’s done is done.” Thinks Kyle aloud. (He really needs to quit doing that) “There’s no use dwelling on it now, but we need to form a plan. A plan of action, or an Action Plan if you will.”

“Master Kyle, I will if you will!” shouts Alfredo from Kyle’s front pocket.

Panda then chimes in once again and berates Alfredo for about twenty minutes on the appropriate times for interrupting, and how there aren’t any. This makes Alfredo feel awfully sad. Panda then holds the power button for about five seconds, until Alfredo slowly powers off and dies.

“Well that’s just great, Panda. Now how are we supposed to keep in contact with Neversnows if my mobile phone is dead!?” questions Kyle.

Panda then sneezes, and Kyle forgets all about the whole mobile-phone ordeal.

Just then out of nowhere, Kyle thinks up a plan of action! Impressed by his own intellect, Kyle explains to Panda his Action Plan, and how it almost exclusively involves Panda pan-handling until he gets enough money.

At first, Panda is not very happy with this shenanigan, but as soon as Kyle tells him he can call it “Panda-handling” instead, naturally he obliges.

NAP TIME! ( for Kyle. Panda is a little busy right now)

Seven days later Panda returns and wakes Kyle up from his nap. Enraged, Kyle begins swinging his fists in the general direction of Panda, before realizes Panda has returned with at least four or five dollars!

“Oh my goodness, Panda! How on earth were you able to get that amount of money in such a short amount of time?” questions Kyle.

Panda then proceeds to tell Kyle about all of the various pandamonium he had to cause in order to get the large sum of money and Kyle swells with pride. Now, having more than enough money to get home, the two then go to the nearest convenience store.

“Hello good sir.” Kyle says to the man behind the counter. “Two energy drinks, please. And make them super energetic. We’ve got to get all the way to back to Neversnows and I’m already exhausted from my trip here!”

“Neversnows, eh? I’ve heard about that place! Didn’t it just snow there or something?” says the man behind the counter.

“Indeed it did. But as quickly as the blustering began, it be-over.” explains an exhausted Kyle.

Having no more time to chat, the man quickly hands Kyle two of the most energetic drinks they have, and Panda hands him four or five dollars.

“Quick Panda, drink yours first and make sure it’s safe! Then I’ll drink mine and we can finally make it back to Neversnows!” says a scheming Kyle.

Panda doesn't hesitate and drinks his energetic drink in one energetic drink. “Now that wasn’t so bad!” shouts Panda, energetically. Kyle then proceeds to drink his as well, and then two then begin running as fast as they can in the general direction of Neversnows.

Several days later, they arrive home to find Neversnows almost exactly as they left it!

“Wow, Neversnows is almost exactly as we left it! Only slightly more covered in snow!” reckons Kyle.

“Ironic!” says Panda.

“You don’t know what that means stupid Panda, but you’re right. It is rather ironic.” replies Kyle.

The two then rush to Kyle’s home, where Kyle’s family has been worried sick.

“Wow, what a long and crazy adventure!” says Kyle. “Let’s watch some TV!”

Panda begins getting excited, and as Kyle flips through the channel, what does he see?

PREDATOR 2 IS ON!

Now that’s irony, Kyle thinks to himself. And as soon as his thought is thought, he hears a knocking on his door.

“Oh Kyle!” shouts Kyle’s mother. “That must be the mail-man, can you get the door?”

“But I just got home from Australia, can’t you do it?” argues Kyle.

“No, just do it. I’m your mother. Do it. I said so.”

Finally, Kyle walks over to the door and opens it and who does he see?

Danny Glover, dressed up as a mail man!

“Here’s your mail, kid. By the way, there’s nothing ironic about a struggling actor trying to make a decent living.”

The END.