|
I live in this wonderful little subdivision commonly known as Timberbrook Lane. Technically Timberbrook is merely a branch off of Robinson Road, and technically the subdivision is called Robinson Road, but for the sake of this piece let's say that Timberbrook Lane is famous and no one really cares about Robinson Road. Are we saying it? We better be. So let me tell you the story of this lovely little hell-hole "Timberbrook": Now, it all began what I'm sure was a long, long time ago. In a galaxy far away. The galaxy was known as ZgalaxyX3000000, which later became a popular Trojan:Worm that later infection millions of computers world wide but at the time it was merely a galaxy. A galaxy of swirling black stars, it was usually hard to tell that they were swirling because they were black but if you asked anyone they would say that they were swirly fiercely, or swirly evilly. Because these things were evil, let me tell you. There was more evil in the mere pinky toe of a single star than there was anywhere else in the entire universe. In fact the only way a species could survive on one of these stars is if they were born from the very evil that surrounded and infested it. Now these things were so evil that their very evil televisions played nothing but public access commercials. You know, the ones that mimic American Idol by having some black guy play an old lady panelist as well as the contestant, some young brunette playing a "from the block" version of Paula Abdul, and some white guy with a very bad English accent and what looks like a tooth infection playing a Salvation Army giveaway version of Simon Cowell? The ones that ‘cause infrared radiation (I'm sure) that transmit from the screen directly into your pituitary gland and give you UltraBrainCancer Simplex Type B. Well after a particularly bad evil lightning storm on one of the stars, a family of Evilorgs (they chose this name for themselves when they realized that the suffix "orgs" placed onto any word instantly gives it a far more evil feel. Surely you would never want to pet a kittenorg or a puppyorg.) were upset that their television had cut off and were unable to not enjoy the low budget sixty-second monstrosities. And it was just as their TV cut off when their most least favorite one (which according to legend was a local car dealership's commercial featuring a naked cowboy wearing only his hat in an increasingly stranger shower situation with several other men) was merely half way done and they grew enraged. The father, a famous mad scientist, decided that the only way to adequately channel his anger was to destroy the entire planet. So he built a device that would cause an explosion so big that it could be seen from any outwardly planet as long as they were looking up at that particular time and not at the even bigger explosion happening directly behind them in the sky caused by the feuding gangster planets in the Strombosis Nebula. However the explosion didn't work. It planet simply absorbed the force, being that it was created to do evil, and grew larger. This enraged the father once more and with the enlisted help of his entire family (mostly the mother) he built a device that would expel a great pink cloud of positively charged "love molecules" that grew to look uncannily similar to teddy bears. Once this cloud reached it's apex of growth the cloud dispersed itself. And it surrounded the entire planet in it's warm and gentle mist. Then the planet, like a weary teenager in a room full of cat dander, exploded. Luckily no one residing on the planet at the time was alive to be exploded. They had all committed suicide when they realized that they were starting to enjoy each other's company. Well unlike a good planet, this planet exploded outward instead of imploding inward and sent billions upon billions upon billions of tiny shards out into the universe. Strangely enough each piece was roughly the size of a secluded wooded subdivision. It would only be fair to you the reader that I fast-forward into time to roughly sixty-years ago. You didn't miss much anyway, there were some lizard that man would never truly realize were actually just really angry fish. There were singing men in jumpsuits wearing funny hats and subliminally insisting the world to "whip" whatever "it" was. Then some hate crimes. Then the birth of music. Then the death of music. Followed quickly by the resurrection of music, and followed even more quickly by the rebellion against music when music slipped into a deep depression and killed itself. Music now lies in Isaaquah, Washington where it's grave has been replaced by a Valero gas station. Present Day: Sixty Years Ago. One of the chunks that had floated for eons out in the cold recesses of space finally managed to make it's way to Earth. It flew past the rapidly deleting "o-zone" layer where it felt very much at home. Past the many, many layers of atmosphere where it only found comfort in the fact that it was traveling near the speed of sound and was completely covered in flames. Then it sped swiftly towards the ground only to land in the most uninteresting place on the planet. Spotsylvania, Virginia. It resided there for about twelve minutes until a group of far less intelligent primate descendants known as "The Robinson's" discovered it's resting place and decided to build a home there. And to hide their newly discovered steaming Shangri la they planted a sea of pine trees around themselves and placed a long unpaved dirt road at the entrance to people with nicer cars could never even dream to venture into this place. They dubbed it, "Robinson Road". Now the next part is up to dispute, but I'm almost positive that this is exactly what happened. Either, a series of ghosts unwilling to pay rent in their former cemeteries decided that that placed was "the pits" and left to find a more homely place to raise their families or the funky chunk of space gunk carried with it the souls of all those who never filled out the proper "Suicide Release Forms" and were doomed to cling to the rock for the rest of eternity. Well whether it was space-ghosts or the newer "poltergeist" models one of them cleared away several acres of land to create a sub-sub-division. And upon seeing immense forest of nothing surrounding them and hearing the gentle trickling of a small creek nearby they dubbed the place Timberbrook. They added "lane" as a form of rebellion against the Robinsons who refused to let them build on their road. Soon enough people discovered this place and have been moving into it ever since. And it was only right that the ghosts decided to infest their homes and nightmares as a way to say "thanks" for bringing even further misery to the Robinsons. Only because ghosts are confused and do not understand that we hate scary things and love happy things. –the dexter |