Wherein I compile the cliff-hanging to see if it makes any sense (feel free to let me know if this is redundant to something and I’ll go waste my time on something else)
Cliff told Cory he’d be down to The Cliffs pronto. He brewed a pot of coffee and emptied it into a thermos. It was gonna be a long day out there, he could tell. That was, if he could get there at all. In the garage of his building, he found his parking spot… empty.
Cliff didn’t have time to deal with his missing car, though. He needed to get to the Cliffs right away to check out this strange skeleton Cory’d found. So he called a cab. It arrived quickly, almost suspiciously quickly.
“Hey friend, I think we’re going in the wrong direction,” said Cliff.
“Well, that depends on where you think we’re going,” said the affable cab driver. And then his voice changed, so that it was not affable at all, but rather, menacing. “And don’t call me friend.”
The once affable-seeming cab driver was now laughing maniacally. Cliff had no choice: he punched through the plastic protector with one powerful fist, shattering it, and grabbed the man by the neck.
“Where are you taking me?” Cliff demanded.
The man strained to breathe in Cliff’s stranglehold but kept laughing. “Oh, you’ll find out, Mr. Cliff,” he wheezed. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
Cliff climbed up into the front seat of the cab with the cab driver and tried to pry his steering hands off the steering wheel. The cab driver’s grip was strong, but finally Cliff did it. He yanked the steering wheel to the right sending them off the road.
“Hit the breaks,” Cliff demanded, but the evil cabbie only punched the accelerator, sending them flying… off a cliff.
(#11, switching to comments rather than replies because it might be easier)
“What the heck do you mean, it was just me?” Cliff said. “Where’s the cab–” but when he turned to look at the wreckage, he saw that it wasn’t a cab at all; it was his own car.
“That can’t be,” Cliff whispered to himself. Then he remembered Cory’s call, the strange skeleton. “Hey, could you give me a ride to the ranger station?”
The two paramedics looked at each other. “The ranger station?” one said.
“Sir, there’s is no ranger station here at The South Cliffs Recreational Park,” said the other.
“The South Cliffs Recreational Park? You mean this isn’t Cliffs State Park?” But of course, the cabbie had gone in the wrong direction; it couldn’t be Cliffs State Park. “But how?” Cliff said, more to himself than to anyone else. “My dad always said there was just one set of Cliffs in Cliffton.”
Cliff got the address of the house where his father was living: 127 North Fatherson Lane. It was right in town and the paramedics gave him a ride. He thanked them and then made his way to the house. The door was unlocked. At the breakfast nook sat his father.
“Well, you’ve finally found me, Cliff,” said his father, Cliff Sr.
It was a room set up like an office. There were several white boards with vague phrases written on them like ‘the return’ or ‘estimated landing date.’ Yarn connected a number of blurry photographs tacked to a corkboard. Four men worked at desks, typing furiously, their computer screens filled with coordinates and figures Cliff didn’t understand. They stopped working and looked up when Cliff Sr. and Cliff walked in.
“What is this place?” Cliff asked.
“It’s the operation room,” said Cliff Sr. “For our… secret operation.”
(21)
“The year was 1989,” said Cliff Sr. “I was voted top cliff ranger of the Northwest. Paul was named best in the Southeast. Johnny, the Northeast, Jimbo, the Southwest. Rice was best in Canada.”
“I don’t get it,” said Cliff.
“We were the best of the best, but there were still blindspots in each of our approaches to cliff oversight,” said Cliff Sr. “So we combined our DNA and created you: the ultimate cliff ranger.”
“But I’m not the ultimate cliff ranger,” Cliff said. “Sure I’m good at my job, but not the best there ever was.”
“That’s the thing, Cliff,” said Cliff Sr. “We didn’t create you from our combined DNA so that you could toil away doing basic cliff ranger things. We made you for… what’s to come!”
“We can’t explain it yet,” Cliff Sr. said. “That’s what we’re working on here.” He gestured to Cliff’s other dads Paul, Johnny, Jimbo, and Rice. “But when the time comes, you’ll know.”
“Speaking of time, why are you dressed for work if it’s Saturday,” Paul said.
“Oh crap!” Cliff said. “I forgot about Cory and the skeleton.”
“Hey dads, can I borrow a car?” Cliff asked his dads.
“Sure,” said Rice. “Take mine.” He tossed Cliff the keys. “It’s the red convertible in the garage.”
The garage was bigger than Cliff expected. Besides the convertible, there were three other cars. One was covered up with sheets. Cliff couldn’t help but be curious. He lifted a corner of one of the sheets.
The sun was out and Cliff drove through town in Rice’s convertible with the top down. It was a beautiful day and Cliff was about to be doing what he loved most in the world: investigating strange happenings at Cliffs National Park.
So why did he feel so uneasy? Moreover, why did he feel like… he was being watched?
“Cliff, thank god you’re here,” Cory said, rushing out of the ranger station to meet him as he pulled up. But he stopped short. “Wait, a minute… is that my dad’s car?”
“Or, to say it in the more common colloquial way, we’re bros,” Cory clarified. “As in, we’re not just coworkers, but we’re buddies as well.”
“Okay, I see,” Cliff said. “Because I thought you were implying that we both shared the same dad, or at least one of my dads was also your dad. Which would be quite a surprise!”
“But one of your dads is my dad, Cliff,” Cory said.
(31)
Wait, so we do share a dad, or multiple dads?” Cliff said.
“Oh, no,” Cory clarified. “I’ve just been taking improv classes recently, where the fundamental thing is go along with what your partner says. ‘Yes, and.’ That sort of thing. I’ve been trying to incorporate the lessons I’ve learned into day-to-day conversation, but obviously I misapplied them this time. Anyway, we should probably look at this skeleton. It’s… well, let’s just say you might be surprised by what I’m about to show you, Cliff.”
“It might’ve been the cab driver from before,” Cliff said.
"Wait, I thought you said, ‘Was he crabby,’"Cory said. “He was definitely crabby. Kept saying something something, he has three more storage rooms to clear out. Something something, he had to run the incinerator.”
“He took off right before you got here,” Cory said. “I didn’t pay him much mind. I was just waiting for you to arrive. I didn’t even know what he was doing back there. Figured it was just another service visit, like when they come to switch the water cooler or to fix the printer.”
“What was he driving?” Cliff asked.
“A work truck,” Cory said.
“How do you know it was a work truck?” Cliff said.
“Because it said the name of the business right on the side,” Cory said.
“What was the business?” Cory asked.
“I forget what the name was exactly,” Cory said. “Something something Storage Room Junk Removal & Incineration.”
Cliff turned and looked where he’d parked. Rice’s red convertible was right where he’d left it. “It’s right there,” Cliff said, pointing.
“Oh, right!” Cory said. “I meant your car. It’s funny I know you’ve only been here a few minutes, but it feels like it’s been much longer, and so I totally forgot you drove a different car today. Stuff like this has been happening all morning. It’s like time has moved differently… since I found that skeleton.”
A tarp was drawn over the truck bed’s contents. Cory and Cliff pulled it aside and looked at… a huge pile of junk, far more than could fit in their storage closet.
“Remember, he had other stops. It’s really not that surprising that it would be full of other stuff,” Cory said. He pointed to a boney hand sticking out from under a pile of files. “There it is!”
They scrambled into the truck bed just as a man came out of the convenience store.
Cory and Cliff ducked again. When they heard the footsteps getting closer, Cliff pulled the tarp back over them. The truck started. And off they went. To where? They did not know.
The truck lurched forward and then stopped. Cliff heard the man get out and walk around to the back. He pulled off the tarp. Cliff had nowhere to hide.
(51)
“But I heard you say–” Cliff began, stepping down from the truck.
The driver waved a hand silencing him. “We just say we have an incinerator, but really we load stuff into a warehouse”–he indicated the big building they were parked outside of–“and then we sell the stuff.”
“But then again,” the driver added, “it’s not that we have mob ties or something. It’s more just that any organization whose contract states one thing–in this case, incineration–but then the company in question is doing something else–in this case, selling stuff–isn’t very trustworthy. Which makes them dangerous, in a sense. Know what I’m saying?”
“So, not like dangerous dangerous,” Cliff said.
“Exactly. More like, not the exact business you want to do business with dangerous,” the driver said.
“How are you going to find buyers for this stuff?” Cliff asked.
“Oh,” the driver said, “the buyers? They’re already lined up.”
“Your dads live at 127 North Fatherson Lane?” the driver asked.
“That’s right!” Cliff said. Then something occurred to him. He took a step back from the driver. “How did you know I said ‘dads’’ as in the plural possessive and not ‘dad’s’ as in the singular possessive?”
“It was my senior year of college,” the driver said. “I’d studied homophone differentiation for four years. I was consistently at the top of my class. I won all the contests. I was set to make six figures working for the FBI, distinguishing the homophones that came in on the wire. There’s a lot of value in that, you know? Being the guy who can distinguish if someone’s talking about a great deal, as in a very good deal, and a grate deal, as in a deal on grates. But then… the impossible happened.”
“It was the final exam,” the driver said. “I sat in the room and the professor said a series of words out of context but thinking of a specific spelling and use. I had to distinguish all of them in order to pass. I was doing well, 9 for 9. Then came… the last word.”
“There I was,” the driver said, “the top of my class. Confronted with a word of many meanings. Buffalo. And I was stumped. I could tell it was none of the versions of buffalo I was familiar with. But I didn’t know what it was.”
“What was it?” Cliff asked.
“It’s too embarrassing,” the driver said.
“C’mon,” Cliff said. “You can tell me.”
The driver had been looking away, leaning on his truck, lost in reminiscing. Now he looked Cliff directly in the eye. “Are you sure you want to know?”
“I suffer from heartburn,” the driver explained. “Very bad heartburn. So I don’t eat spicy food. My friends and family understand this about me. They respect my issue. And that respect is what cost me my career in homophone differentiation. Because if they’d been a little less respectful–if they’d suggested, just a few more times throughout my life, that, hey, why don’t the bunch of us split a plate of Buffalo wings–perhaps I could’ve picked up on the nuances. And then, maybe, I wouldn’t be here today, driving around junk taken from storage rooms and selling it to the highest bidder.”
“Wow,” Cliff said. “What an interesting story. Anyway, can we get back to the thing where you were going to deliver the skeleton the house occupied by my dads?”
“Totally,” said the driver.
But just then, they heard something. It was coming from the truck bed.
“It’s because I called you at 5am! And it’s like noon now,” Cory said. “I’m just tired, Cliff!”
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Cliff said. “I left right when I got your call. And sure there was the accident, which knocked me out for a bit. And the visit to my dads and now this, but that doesn’t explain how so much time has passed.”
“Maybe you got knocked out for longer than you realized,” Cory said.
“Maybe you’re right,” Cliff said. “That would explain how someone was able to swap out the cab for my car.”
“This is all information I haven’t heard before,” Cory said. “Honestly, I have a lot of questions but in the interest of time, I’m just going to go along with everything you’re saying.”
“But why? Why would someone do that?” Cliff said.
“Maybe they wanted you to look reckless,” the driver said.
“That’s right, we aren’t paramedics,” said the one of the men who’d appeared to be a paramedic that morning, stepping out of the warehouse that the driver had parked his truck.
“No, not all of it,” said agent Halverston who’d purported to be the driver for Jimbo’s Storage Room Junk Removal & Incineration. “Just the ending part, where I didn’t know the instructor was referring to buffalo sauce. I knew it alright and I aced that exam and went on to join the FBI as a homophone differentiator on the wires. But now, this is my first field assignment.”
“There aren’t any chairs,” Cliff said. “And I don’t want to sit on the ground. Besides, we’ve been standing around this nondescript facility for a long time now, and it might be best to change settings.”
“I agree,” Cory said.
“Fine,” said agent Halverston. “We’ll go somewhere else. But be warned. You might not like it.”
(81)
“It gets three stars on Yelp,” agent Corlane said.
“Pretty hit or miss,” agent Klington said.
“That’s why I said you might not like it,” agent Halverston said. “I did not guarantee you would not like like it.”
“Can we get to why a bunch of FBI agents are posing as drivers and paramedics and stole an inhuman skeleton found our place of work and are planning on selling it to my dads, who are engaged in some sort of operation, the details of which I don’t know?” Cliff said.
“Fine,” said agent Kington. “We’ll tell you everything.”
“They wanted you to be on edge,” said agent Corlane. “To not believe what you with your own eyes. They wanted to think you were crazy… so they could use you.”
“Can you imagine it,” said agent Halverston. “A rumor about aliens? At Cliffs State Park? It would do unthinkable economic damage! The tourism dollars lost would be through the roof. And then, there’d be copy cats. State parks all across the country, would be shutting down from one crackpot theory started by a cliff ranger everyone trusts.”
“But they’re not Cliff rangers,” Cliff said. “At least not anymore.”
“That’s right,” said agent Klington. “But you are.”
“Again, that’s why they switched the cab out for your car,” said agent Corlane. “They’re messing with you, Cliff. So you’ll believe their wild, outlandish theories. Because they’re a bunch of out-of-work cliff rangers past their prime. But you? You’re a valued public servant in his early thirties. You’re of sound mind. People will believe you.”
“I can’t believe it,” Cliff said. “My own dads, messing with me like that.”
“But you don’t have to take it,” agent Halverston said. “You can mess with them back, Cliff.”
@Superllama7 I just realized, I’ll be done with this around 7pm central time… so someone else will have to take up the last few updates or wait until I get up in the morning
A rudimentary plan was established. Cory and Cliff would go in through the side door, swords brandished. The agents would sneak around the back and wait until they got the signal from the rangers. The signal was to call out: “Flyswatter.”
Cliff and Cory made their way to the front door. Cliff was reaching for the door when Cory stopped him, holding up a hand.
“That’s my co-ranger, Cory,” Cliff said. “He’s with me. But what I need to know is: why do you guys have swords?”
“We heard something in the other room,” Cliff Sr. said. He didn’t lower his sword. The dads, Cliff, and Cory: they all kept their swords raised.
“At first we thought it was the dishwasher,” Cliff Sr. went on. “but then it sounded like people. Like two people. Like two people, one of which is our collective son. So now I need to ask you: why do you have swords?”
Cliff lowered his sword in shame. “Because I’m part of an FBI raid on this place, dad. I’m sorry.”
“Alright,” Cliff said, “we’re going to need some answers: about the aliens, about the skeleton, about this whole operation. Now.”
Cliff Sr. sighed. He held up his hands and the rest of the dads lowered their swords. “Fine. We’ll tell you everything. But first, that fly is annoying the hell of me. Would someone grab me a–”
“Dads?” Cory said. His eyes filled with tears. He was so distraught that he let his grip relax and the sword slipped out of his hand. Cliff watched it fall. It seemed almost to be going in slow motion.
“Hot damn,” Rice said. “They are already here! We’re too late!”
Agent Halverston and the other agents who were also presumably aliens laughed a strange echoing laugh. “You fool,” he said, addressing Cliff. “You should’ve known! There is no such major as homophone differentiation. Except… on our home planet!”
Cliff too raised his sword, but his hands were shaking. His dads said he’d be ready when the time came, but he didn’t feel ready. He felt confused and tired and scared.
(121)
The room fell silent (except for the sound of that fly, which they’d never swatted, and which had, amazingly, survived when the aliens crashed through the windows, including, presumably, the one it was buzzing against).
They all turned to towards the sound of the voice. It was Cory. “If you’re my dads, and you’re aliens does that make me… an alien too?”
With Cory holding off the tentacle with his own tentacle, Cliff fled. Out of the house, across town, running on foot.
When he got back to his apartment, he sheathed his sword, leaned it against the wall, locked the door, and collapsed onto the floor. He lay face down, and tried to concentrate on controlling his breathing.
(141)
“What are you talking about?” Cliff said, raising his sword again.
“Sorry,” Bob said. “I meant to phrase that as a question: are you in some kind of trouble? Because that would explain why you’re running through the building on a beautiful Saturday with a brandished sword.”
“Oh, right,” Cliff said, sighing with relief and lowering his sword. “Nothing to worry about, Bob.”
“Good,” said Bob. “Because that’s another reason I came over. I’m in some trouble, Cliff. Some serious trouble.”
“And the reason you could call it that is because that’s what it is,” Bob went on. “I’ve got an issue with the pipes in my unit. You’re a handy guy, aren’t you, Cliff? Would you mind helping me out?”
Cliff sighed and lowered his sword. He really should be working on the whole dads-getting-kidnapped-by-aliens thing, but he could barely think straight after what he’d seen. “Sure,” he said.
Sure enough, in Bob’s apartment, the sink was backed up. Bob got a bucket and Cliff opened the P-Trap.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Bob said, standing over him. “It’s amazing those plumbers didn’t catch that.”
“What plumbers?” Cliff said.
“The ones that came just a few weeks ago,” Bob said. “Had a little leak–not the same backup issue I’m dealing with here–and so I called a plumber and it was the darnedest thing: five men showed up!”
“Or,” Bob clarified, “maybe a better way to put it is that you look like them. As in, you’re almost a composite of their various features and sensibilities.”
(151)
It was all too much to explain, so Cliff handed it over reluctantly.
Bob seemed to sense something in Cliff’s attitude, and said with a warm smile: “Tell you what? How about this: whoever it looks better on gets to keep it.”
He put the bracelet on himself and observed it as Cliff stood by.
“Not bad,” Bob said. He took it off and handed it to Cliff. “Now you’re turn.”
@Superllama7 Well, we establish in the previous quote from Bob that he’s not exactly a stickler for grammar. Maybe this carries over and he’s not that concerned about spelling when he speaks, either.
“Jeez! What the heck!” Bob cried. Cliff struggled to keep on his feet. But then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the wind stopped and the light faded.
(161)
“The very field I was wandering through,” the figure said, “it seemed to end. I walked to the edge and looked over and saw that it was not the end of the world. Rather, the field continued far, far below.”
“That sounds just like Cliffs State Park,” Cliff said.
“I thought: here is something special,” the strange figure continued. “So I decided I would protect this place. Who would ever attack, I did not know. But I had a hunch.”
“And what happened?” Bob asked. “Did someone attack?”
“I saw it one day,” the figure went on. “Something rocketing towards the ground. It landed in the side of the cliff. It looked almost human but with tentacles for arms. I did not speak its language. Hell, I had no language of my own. But the high pitched noises it made, I understood intuitively.”
“What was it saying?” Cliff asked.
“It was saying,” the figure said, “‘This land will be mine.’”
“I fought the alien creature,” the figure said. “It was armed with lasers and forcefields. Me? I had only a sharp stick and several stones. But using my human cunning, I felled it.”
“The skeleton!” Cliff said.
“That’s right,” the glowing figure said in its booming voice. “But there’s something you need to know.”
“I don’t have much time,” the figure said. “You need to go, Cliff! They’re taking your dads to Cliffs State Park.”
“Should I call the police?” Cliff said.
“No!” the figure cried. “Don’t you get it? Your dads make up the FBI’s entire Department of Cliff Dwelling Extraterrestrial Research & Terrestrial Cliff Protection. And they were no match for them. The police won’t be able to help you.”
“But if they can’t stop the aliens, who can?” Cliff asked.
The aliens had tied up the dads at the base of the cliff. Cory stood sullenly behind them, a metal collar around his neck.
“Now, you shall watch,” called the alien formerly known as agent Klington, “as we complete what our ancestor set out to do thousands of years ago: colonize this cliff!”
“You monsters!” cried Cliff Sr.
Oh, but that is only the beginning!" said the alien formerly known as agent Corlane.
“That my neighbor Bob would be home and willing to give me a ride in exchange for a little plumbing help.” Cliff looked over his shoulder. “Thanks, Bob.”
“Any time,” Bob said from his hatchback. “Although, actually I shouldn’t say that. You see there’s something you should know, Cliff.”
“I work most days. From around nine in the morning until five in the evening,” Bob said.
“Why are you telling me this?” Cliff said.
“I just said ‘any time,’ but that was untruthful,” Bob said. “There are definitely times when I’ll be too busy to give you a ride. Namely between nine and five. But also, a little before nine and a little after five too. Because my work hours don’t account for the commute. Also, I play Ultimate Frisbee on Thursday nights in the summer.”
“Okay, good to know,” Cliff said.
“Great,” Bob said. “Glad to clear that up. Anyway, do you need to me to wait to drive you home, because I should actually get a few things done…”
“No, I should be good,” Cliff said.
“Cool,” Bob said. “Well, I’ll just take off.”
“Great,” Cliff said.
“Rolling up the window now,” Bob said.
“Sounds good,” Cliff said.
“What was that?” Bob said. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you over the window rolling up.”
“I just said ‘sounds good,’” said Cliff.
“Ah, great,” Bob said. He rolled up the window.
As for Cliff, he leapt. Right off the edge of the cliff.
(181)
“Wait, is that a harness he’s wearing?” Paul asked.
“By golly, it is!” Cliff Sr. said. “And it’s attached to a rope!”
Cliff rappelled easily down the side of the cliff, just as he’d learned at the Cliff Ranger Academy years earlier. When he reached the bottom, he quickly took off the harness and drew the sword slung across his back before the aliens could attack.
“Now, we fight!” Cliff shouted… just as a rogue tentacle shot out, stripping him of his weapon.
Cliff sprinted for the stick and rocks. The aliens, thinking he was running away, only laughed louder.
Cliff grabbed the stones first. He threw one and then the next hitting both Corlane and Halverston each in the head.
“What the?” Klington called as his two friends stumbled and then fell the ground. He went to raise his sword… just as Cliff knocked him over the head with the stick.
@Superllama7 Bedtime for me! Anyone is welcome to update the story; if you do, please include the episode number to keep things in order. If you leave it for me, I’ll finish in the morning.
/giphy stay classy
Back at the dads’ house, Cliff Sr. said, “You kinda made it sound like we were going someplace weird. But this is where we’ve lived and conducted our operation for years.”
“Sorry,” Cliff said. “I was afraid the aliens were still listening.”
“Well, now that you’re here, we have something to tell you,” Jimbo said.
“We’re not just bros,” Cory said to Cliff. “We’re now real brothers!”
“That’s right,” said Cliff Sr. “We used our power as FBI agents to really speed the adoption process up. Also, to paper over the you being an alien thing.”
Cliff and Cory embraced.
“But wait,” Cliff said, releasing his new brother. “There’s one thing I’m still curious about… Why’s there a taxi cab in the garage?”
“As a Canadian, it took me a long time to earn my citizenship and eventually earn full-time employment with the FBI,” Rice went on. “So, there was a few years where I freelanced as an alien investigator and worked part time as a cab driver.”
“Oh, great,” said Cliff. “That clears everything up.”
Then the dads and Cliff and Cory drank champagne and rejoiced because they’d defeated the aliens and there certainly weren’t any unanswered questions left. Not one. Nope. The story had wrapped up perfectly.
Oh Cliff
Sometimes it must be difficult not to feel as if
you really are a cliff
when fascists keep trying to push you over it!
Are they the lemmings
Or are you, Cliff?
Or are you Cliff?
The phone rang at 5am, waking Cliff.
“Yello?”
“Cliff, you’re going to want to get down here to the Cliffs.” It was Cory, the weekend ranger at Cliffs State Park.
“It’s Saturday morning, Cory,” said Cliff. “Can’t it wait?”
Cory took a deep breath. “No, Cliff, it can’t. There’s something you really gotta see. Something… strange.”
Cliff kept the phone pressed to his ear while he fumbled to put on his ranger shorts. “Cory, I’m gonna need more details,” Cliff said.
“It’s a skeleton, Cliff,” said Cory over the phone.
“Human?” Cliff said.
Cory took another deep breath and exhaled loudly into the receiver. “No, Cliff. Not exactly human at all.”
Cliff told Cory he’d be down to The Cliffs pronto. He brewed a pot of coffee and emptied it into a thermos. It was gonna be a long day out there, he could tell. That was, if he could get there at all. In the garage of his building, he found his parking spot… empty.
Cliff didn’t have time to deal with his missing car, though. He needed to get to the Cliffs right away to check out this strange skeleton Cory’d found. So he called a cab. It arrived quickly, almost suspiciously quickly.
“Where to, mister?” said the affable cab driver.
“To Cliffs State park,” said Cliff, “And there’s a nice tip in it if you get me there fast.”
“Sure thing, mister,” the cabbie said.
And he took off alright… going in the wrong direction
“Hey friend, I think we’re going in the wrong direction,” said Cliff.
“Well, that depends on where you think we’re going,” said the affable cab driver. And then his voice changed, so that it was not affable at all, but rather, menacing. “And don’t call me friend.”
Cliff was stuck in a cab driven by someone who was taking him somewhere he hadn’t requested.
I know what I’ll do, Cliff thought. I’ll swing one of these doors open and barrel roll to safety.
But when he tried the door, it was locked.
The once affable-seeming cab driver was now laughing maniacally. Cliff had no choice: he punched through the plastic protector with one powerful fist, shattering it, and grabbed the man by the neck.
“Where are you taking me?” Cliff demanded.
The man strained to breathe in Cliff’s stranglehold but kept laughing. “Oh, you’ll find out, Mr. Cliff,” he wheezed. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
Cliff climbed up into the front seat of the cab with the cab driver and tried to pry his steering hands off the steering wheel. The cab driver’s grip was strong, but finally Cliff did it. He yanked the steering wheel to the right sending them off the road.
“Hit the breaks,” Cliff demanded, but the evil cabbie only punched the accelerator, sending them flying… off a cliff.
When Cliff opened his eyes, he found paramedics standing over him.
“He’s coming to,” one of them said.
“Sir, remain calm,” the other said. “You were in an accident. Your car went off a cliff. Amazingly, you’ve only sustained a few scrapes.”
“Where’s the driver?” Cliff demanded, struggling to his feet.
“The driver?” one of the paramedics said.
“Sir, you were the only one here,” said the other. “And you were in the driver’s seat.”
@Superllama7 outstanding Cliff notes.
(#11, switching to comments rather than replies because it might be easier)
“What the heck do you mean, it was just me?” Cliff said. “Where’s the cab–” but when he turned to look at the wreckage, he saw that it wasn’t a cab at all; it was his own car.
@Superllama7 Like me, Cliff has been ordering too much wine lately…
@Superllama7 the drama! oh mama!
“That can’t be,” Cliff whispered to himself. Then he remembered Cory’s call, the strange skeleton. “Hey, could you give me a ride to the ranger station?”
The two paramedics looked at each other. “The ranger station?” one said.
“Sir, there’s is no ranger station here at The South Cliffs Recreational Park,” said the other.
“The South Cliffs Recreational Park? You mean this isn’t Cliffs State Park?” But of course, the cabbie had gone in the wrong direction; it couldn’t be Cliffs State Park. “But how?” Cliff said, more to himself than to anyone else. “My dad always said there was just one set of Cliffs in Cliffton.”
@Superllama7 Shit just got real, G.
“Your dad, you say?” said one of the paramedics. “Hey, you’re Cliff Murphy’s boy, aren’t you?”
“That’s right,” said Cliff. “I’m Cliff Murphy Jr. I’m a cliff ranger just like my pa was.”
“A great guy,” said the paramedic. “I saw him just yesterday morning at the grocery.”
“Wait…” Cliff couldn’t believe. “Are you telling me that my father… is alive?”
@Superllama7 I can’t handle all the twists and turns in this story! I could’ve sworn Cliff’s dad was a goner after that spat with the Clavins’.
Cliff got the address of the house where his father was living: 127 North Fatherson Lane. It was right in town and the paramedics gave him a ride. He thanked them and then made his way to the house. The door was unlocked. At the breakfast nook sat his father.
“Well, you’ve finally found me, Cliff,” said his father, Cliff Sr.
“I can’t can’t believe it,” Cliff said. “My dad! Alive!”
Cliff Sr. sighed. “Well, that’s partially true, Junior. I am alive. But I’m not your dad.”
“You’re not my real dad?” Cliff cried.
“Well, I should clarify,” Cliff Sr. said. “I’m not your only dad.”
“You’re not my only dad?” Cliff cried.
“That’s right, son,” Cliff sr. said. He rose from the breakfast nook. “Follow me. I’ll show you what I mean.”
@Superllama7 The plot really thickens here…
Cliff followed his father from the breakfast nook into what he thought would be a living room. But it turned out to be something entirely different.
It was a room set up like an office. There were several white boards with vague phrases written on them like ‘the return’ or ‘estimated landing date.’ Yarn connected a number of blurry photographs tacked to a corkboard. Four men worked at desks, typing furiously, their computer screens filled with coordinates and figures Cliff didn’t understand. They stopped working and looked up when Cliff Sr. and Cliff walked in.
“What is this place?” Cliff asked.
“It’s the operation room,” said Cliff Sr. “For our… secret operation.”
“What’s the operation?” Cliff asked.
“I can’t tell you,” said Cliff Sr. “Not yet. But I can say that it’s been going on for thirty one years.”
“I’m thirty-one years old,” Cliff said. “You started it right when I was born?”
“Yes,” said Cliff Sr. “And that’s not a coincidence.”
“You gonna introduce us to the guest of honor?” one of the men said. The other three laughed.
“Sorry, guys,” Cliff Sr. said. “This is him. This is Cliff.”
The other men stopped laughing now.
“Cliff, this is Paul, Johnny, Jimbo, and Rice,” Cliff Sr. said. “These are your other dads.”
@Superllama7 Really wanted them to say Bubba, Leroy, and Skillet. And my other brother Darrell. Or something.
(21)
“The year was 1989,” said Cliff Sr. “I was voted top cliff ranger of the Northwest. Paul was named best in the Southeast. Johnny, the Northeast, Jimbo, the Southwest. Rice was best in Canada.”
“I don’t get it,” said Cliff.
“We were the best of the best, but there were still blindspots in each of our approaches to cliff oversight,” said Cliff Sr. “So we combined our DNA and created you: the ultimate cliff ranger.”
“But how’d you choose to name me after yourself?” Cliff asked Cliff Sr.
“You’re not named after me,” said Cliff Sr. “You’re named after… the cliffs.”
“But I’m not the ultimate cliff ranger,” Cliff said. “Sure I’m good at my job, but not the best there ever was.”
“That’s the thing, Cliff,” said Cliff Sr. “We didn’t create you from our combined DNA so that you could toil away doing basic cliff ranger things. We made you for… what’s to come!”
“We can’t explain it yet,” Cliff Sr. said. “That’s what we’re working on here.” He gestured to Cliff’s other dads Paul, Johnny, Jimbo, and Rice. “But when the time comes, you’ll know.”
“Speaking of time, why are you dressed for work if it’s Saturday,” Paul said.
“Oh crap!” Cliff said. “I forgot about Cory and the skeleton.”
“A not so human skeleton?” Jimbo asked.
“Yeah,” Cliff said. “What does it mean?”
“We can’t say,” Johnny said. “Not yet.”
“Hey dads, can I borrow a car?” Cliff asked his dads.
“Sure,” said Rice. “Take mine.” He tossed Cliff the keys. “It’s the red convertible in the garage.”
The garage was bigger than Cliff expected. Besides the convertible, there were three other cars. One was covered up with sheets. Cliff couldn’t help but be curious. He lifted a corner of one of the sheets.
Underneath, was a cab.
@Superllama7
/giphy shock
The sun was out and Cliff drove through town in Rice’s convertible with the top down. It was a beautiful day and Cliff was about to be doing what he loved most in the world: investigating strange happenings at Cliffs National Park.
So why did he feel so uneasy? Moreover, why did he feel like… he was being watched?
“Cliff, thank god you’re here,” Cory said, rushing out of the ranger station to meet him as he pulled up. But he stopped short. “Wait, a minute… is that my dad’s car?”
“This is your dad’s car?” Cliff said, getting out of the driver’s seat.
“Well, obviously not that one exactly,” Cory clarified. “But he has one just like it. A retirement gift he got for himself.”
Cliff let out a deep breath. “I thought you meant your dad was Rice!”
“But he is,” Cory said.
“Wait, so Rice is your dad?” Cliff said.
“No, my dad is rice,” Cory clarified. “In the you-are-what-you-eat sense. He eats a lot of rice, ever since the doctor put him on a low sodium diet.”
“Oh, jeez,” Cliff said. “I thought you were saying the man who is my dad is your dad, which would make us brothers.”
“But we are brothers, Cliff,” Cory said.
“We’re brothers?!” Cliff cried.
“Or, to say it in the more common colloquial way, we’re bros,” Cory clarified. “As in, we’re not just coworkers, but we’re buddies as well.”
“Okay, I see,” Cliff said. “Because I thought you were implying that we both shared the same dad, or at least one of my dads was also your dad. Which would be quite a surprise!”
“But one of your dads is my dad, Cliff,” Cory said.
@Superllama7 The author is really taking us for a ride here…
(31)
Wait, so we do share a dad, or multiple dads?” Cliff said.
“Oh, no,” Cory clarified. “I’ve just been taking improv classes recently, where the fundamental thing is go along with what your partner says. ‘Yes, and.’ That sort of thing. I’ve been trying to incorporate the lessons I’ve learned into day-to-day conversation, but obviously I misapplied them this time. Anyway, we should probably look at this skeleton. It’s… well, let’s just say you might be surprised by what I’m about to show you, Cliff.”
@Superllama7 Weakest installment yet, imo.
Cory led Cliff into the storage room at the back of the ranger station where he’d put the skeleton. But the room… was empty.
“What the heck!” Cory said.
“Has anyone else had access to this room?” Cliff asked.
“No,” Cory said. “Or, wait, there was that one person.”
“Who was it?” Cliff said. A thought occurred to him. “Was he a cabbie?”
“He was!” Cory said.
@Superllama7
/giphy shocked again
“It might’ve been the cab driver from before,” Cliff said.
"Wait, I thought you said, ‘Was he crabby,’"Cory said. “He was definitely crabby. Kept saying something something, he has three more storage rooms to clear out. Something something, he had to run the incinerator.”
“He took off right before you got here,” Cory said. “I didn’t pay him much mind. I was just waiting for you to arrive. I didn’t even know what he was doing back there. Figured it was just another service visit, like when they come to switch the water cooler or to fix the printer.”
“What was he driving?” Cliff asked.
“A work truck,” Cory said.
“How do you know it was a work truck?” Cliff said.
“Because it said the name of the business right on the side,” Cory said.
“What was the business?” Cory asked.
“I forget what the name was exactly,” Cory said. “Something something Storage Room Junk Removal & Incineration.”
“Quick get in my car, we’re going after this guy!” Cliff said.
“But Cliff! Your car! It’s gone!” Cory cried.
Cliff turned and looked where he’d parked. Rice’s red convertible was right where he’d left it. “It’s right there,” Cliff said, pointing.
“Oh, right!” Cory said. “I meant your car. It’s funny I know you’ve only been here a few minutes, but it feels like it’s been much longer, and so I totally forgot you drove a different car today. Stuff like this has been happening all morning. It’s like time has moved differently… since I found that skeleton.”
Cliff and Cory got into the convertible. Cliff put the key in and turned it. But nothing happened.
Then Cliff remembered, it was a stick shift. He needed to push down the clutch. So he did and then the car started. But it would barely move.
(41)
“I think it’s in third gear, not first,” Cory said.
“I don’t usually drive stick,” Cliff admitted.
But he got the car in gear and they were off, weaving through the cliffside roads in around Cliffs State Park and into town.
“Hey, there it is,” Cory said. The truck was parked at a convenience store.
Now Cliff saw the entire company name. Dad? he thought. Because the name was: Jimbo’s Storage Room Junk Removal & Incineration.
@Superllama7 Pretty sure we were looking for “Go Crazy Storage Room Junk Removal & Incineration”.
“Let’s just grab the skeleton,” Cory said.
A tarp was drawn over the truck bed’s contents. Cory and Cliff pulled it aside and looked at… a huge pile of junk, far more than could fit in their storage closet.
“What is all this stuff?” Cliff said.
“Remember, he had other stops. It’s really not that surprising that it would be full of other stuff,” Cory said. He pointed to a boney hand sticking out from under a pile of files. “There it is!”
They scrambled into the truck bed just as a man came out of the convenience store.
“That’s him,” Cory whispered.
Cory and Cliff ducked. But no one approached the truck.
“Oh, sorry, that wasn’t him,” Cory said.
“Close call,” Cliff said.
Another man emerged from the convenience store. “Wait, but that is him!”
Cory and Cliff ducked again. When they heard the footsteps getting closer, Cliff pulled the tarp back over them. The truck started. And off they went. To where? They did not know.
The truck went along for quite some time. Finally, it slowed down.
Cliff risked peeking out from under the tarp.
They’d pulled into some sort of facility. The driver spoke to someone in a booth. “I got a big load to drop off,” said the driver.
“Probably your best bet,” said the guy in the booth, “is to back it straight up to the incinerator.”
“Did you hear that, Cory?” Cliff said. “They’re going to throw this stuff in the incinerator.”
But when he turned and looked, Cory was nowhere to be seen.
“Cory? Cory? Where are you?” Cliff whispered.
No response came.
The truck lurched forward and then stopped. Cliff heard the man get out and walk around to the back. He pulled off the tarp. Cliff had nowhere to hide.
“What the heck?!” the driver said.
“Freeze!” called out Cliff, who’d actually been ready for this exact moment.
“Are you a cop?” the driver said.
Cliff stood. “No. I’m a ranger at Cliffs State Park. I care about the environment, and so therefore I can’t let you incinerate this load.”
“Oh yeah?” the Driver said, crossing his arms. “Why’s that?”
“Because,” Cliff said. “Some of these items are recyclable.”
“Well, I got news for you,” the driver said. “We don’t even actually have an incinerator.”
(51)
“But I heard you say–” Cliff began, stepping down from the truck.
The driver waved a hand silencing him. “We just say we have an incinerator, but really we load stuff into a warehouse”–he indicated the big building they were parked outside of–“and then we sell the stuff.”
@Superllama7 ohhhhh…
@Superllama7 THE warehouse? Is it in Texas?
“Illegally,” the driver added.
“Which means–” Cliff began, looking around the facility.
“That’s right, Jimbo’s Storage Room Junk Removal & Incineration is a criminal organization.”
“A dangerous criminal organization?” Cliff asked.
“Yes,” the driver said. “Definitely dangerous.”
“But then again,” the driver added, “it’s not that we have mob ties or something. It’s more just that any organization whose contract states one thing–in this case, incineration–but then the company in question is doing something else–in this case, selling stuff–isn’t very trustworthy. Which makes them dangerous, in a sense. Know what I’m saying?”
“So, not like dangerous dangerous,” Cliff said.
“Exactly. More like, not the exact business you want to do business with dangerous,” the driver said.
“How are you going to find buyers for this stuff?” Cliff asked.
“Oh,” the driver said, “the buyers? They’re already lined up.”
“And who’s buying the stuff from the ranger station at Cliffs State Park?” Cliff asked.
“Some guys over at, what was the place?” The driver scratched his head. “I think it was… 127 North Fatherson Lane?”
“That’s my dads’ house!” Cliff exclaimed.
“Your dads live at 127 North Fatherson Lane?” the driver asked.
“That’s right!” Cliff said. Then something occurred to him. He took a step back from the driver. “How did you know I said ‘dads’’ as in the plural possessive and not ‘dad’s’ as in the singular possessive?”
“I have a great ear for differentiating homophones,” the driver said. “Always have.”
“Whose,” Cliff said.
“O-s-e,” said the driver.
“They’re,” Cliff said.
“Apostrophe-r-e,” said the driver.
“Its,” Cliff said.
“Possessive,” said the driver.
“Remarkable,” Cliff said.
The man nodded solemnly. “It is,” he said. “Or would be, if it weren’t for… how things ended up.”
@Superllama7 Grossly underrated installment, even at 5 stars.
“It was my senior year of college,” the driver said. “I’d studied homophone differentiation for four years. I was consistently at the top of my class. I won all the contests. I was set to make six figures working for the FBI, distinguishing the homophones that came in on the wire. There’s a lot of value in that, you know? Being the guy who can distinguish if someone’s talking about a great deal, as in a very good deal, and a grate deal, as in a deal on grates. But then… the impossible happened.”
“What happened?” Cliff asked.
“It was the final exam,” the driver said. “I sat in the room and the professor said a series of words out of context but thinking of a specific spelling and use. I had to distinguish all of them in order to pass. I was doing well, 9 for 9. Then came… the last word.”
(61)
“What was it?” Cliff asked.
“Buffalo,” said the driver.
“The city in New York?” Cliff asked.
“No,” said the driver.
“The animal?”
“No.”
“The mozzarella?”
“No. Nor was it the freshwater fish or the verb meaning to intimidate or baffle someone. It was… something else.”
“There I was,” the driver said, “the top of my class. Confronted with a word of many meanings. Buffalo. And I was stumped. I could tell it was none of the versions of buffalo I was familiar with. But I didn’t know what it was.”
“What was it?” Cliff asked.
“It’s too embarrassing,” the driver said.
“C’mon,” Cliff said. “You can tell me.”
The driver had been looking away, leaning on his truck, lost in reminiscing. Now he looked Cliff directly in the eye. “Are you sure you want to know?”
“Yes,” Cliff said.
The driver sighed. “Fine, I’ll tell you…”
“It was the sauce,” the driver said. “Buffalo sauce.”
“The one on wings?” Cliff asked.
“That exact one,” the driver said.
“How did you miss it?” Cliff asked.
“Well,” the driver said, looking at his feet, “there’s something you should know about me…”
“I suffer from heartburn,” the driver explained. “Very bad heartburn. So I don’t eat spicy food. My friends and family understand this about me. They respect my issue. And that respect is what cost me my career in homophone differentiation. Because if they’d been a little less respectful–if they’d suggested, just a few more times throughout my life, that, hey, why don’t the bunch of us split a plate of Buffalo wings–perhaps I could’ve picked up on the nuances. And then, maybe, I wouldn’t be here today, driving around junk taken from storage rooms and selling it to the highest bidder.”
“Wow,” Cliff said. “What an interesting story. Anyway, can we get back to the thing where you were going to deliver the skeleton the house occupied by my dads?”
“Totally,” said the driver.
But just then, they heard something. It was coming from the truck bed.
Cliff and the driver jumped back just as the figure stood, groaning.
“It’s… it’s… it’s… A SKELETON!” cried the driver.
“A skeleton inside a fully alive human body!” the driver went on to exclaim.
“Cory!” Cliff said.
“Sorry, I fell asleep under some files,” Cory said.
“Fell asleep?” Cliff asked. “We’re in the middle of an extremely important job involving a strange, inhuman skeleton, and you fell asleep? How?”
“As a matter of fact, Cliff, I wanted to talk to you about that,” Cory said.
“It’s because I called you at 5am! And it’s like noon now,” Cory said. “I’m just tired, Cliff!”
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Cliff said. “I left right when I got your call. And sure there was the accident, which knocked me out for a bit. And the visit to my dads and now this, but that doesn’t explain how so much time has passed.”
“Maybe you got knocked out for longer than you realized,” Cory said.
“Maybe you’re right,” Cliff said. “That would explain how someone was able to swap out the cab for my car.”
“This is all information I haven’t heard before,” Cory said. “Honestly, I have a lot of questions but in the interest of time, I’m just going to go along with everything you’re saying.”
“But why? Why would someone do that?” Cliff said.
“Maybe they wanted you to look reckless,” the driver said.
Everything.
“I’m just a cliff ranger at Cliffs State Park,” said Cliff. “Why would someone want me to appear reckless?”
“Maybe this business with the skeleton and your dads is bigger than you realized,” the driver said.
(71)
“Okay, yeah, but who?” Cliff said. “Who would frame me for reckless driving? And how?”
“Well, who was there when you came to?” Cory asked.
“Just the paramedics,” said Cliff.
“Maybe,” Cory said, “they weren’t paramedics after all.”
“That’s right, we aren’t paramedics,” said the one of the men who’d appeared to be a paramedic that morning, stepping out of the warehouse that the driver had parked his truck.
“We’re with the FBI,” said the other man who’d appeared to be a paramedic that morning.
“I’m agent Klington,” said one.
“And I’m agent Corlane,” said the other.
“And I’m agent Halverston,” said the driver.
“And I’m agent Cory,” said Cory.
“…of the ranger service at Cliffs State Park,” Cory went on. “Although, I’ve never introduced myself as an agent, so I don’t know why I did now.”
Cliff ignored him and turned to the driver. “Wait, so you’re an FBI agent too?”
“That’s right,” said agent Halverston. “That story I told you? It was a lie.”
“All of it?” Cliff said.
“No, not all of it,” said agent Halverston who’d purported to be the driver for Jimbo’s Storage Room Junk Removal & Incineration. “Just the ending part, where I didn’t know the instructor was referring to buffalo sauce. I knew it alright and I aced that exam and went on to join the FBI as a homophone differentiator on the wires. But now, this is my first field assignment.”
“And it’s a doozy,” said agent Corlane.
“You might want to sit down for this, rangers Cliff and Cory,” said agent Klington.
Cory and Cliff looked at each other.
“Not a chance,” said Cliff.
“There aren’t any chairs,” Cliff said. “And I don’t want to sit on the ground. Besides, we’ve been standing around this nondescript facility for a long time now, and it might be best to change settings.”
“I agree,” Cory said.
“Fine,” said agent Halverston. “We’ll go somewhere else. But be warned. You might not like it.”
They went to a diner in town. The five of them huddled in the back booth.
“Why did you think we wouldn’t like this place?” Cory asked. “It seems fine.”
“There’s something you should know about this place,” agent Halverston said.
(81)
“It gets three stars on Yelp,” agent Corlane said.
“Pretty hit or miss,” agent Klington said.
“That’s why I said you might not like it,” agent Halverston said. “I did not guarantee you would not like like it.”
“Can we get to why a bunch of FBI agents are posing as drivers and paramedics and stole an inhuman skeleton found our place of work and are planning on selling it to my dads, who are engaged in some sort of operation, the details of which I don’t know?” Cliff said.
“Fine,” said agent Kington. “We’ll tell you everything.”
Everything.
@mediocrebot Everything?
Everything.
@mediocrebot Ok, just checking. But you’re sure it was everything?
Everything.
@mediocrebot Got it.
“Your fathers are involved in something,” said agent Corlane.
“Something… bad,” said agent Halverston.
“It was them that traded out your car at the accident,” said agent Kington. “Not us.”
“Whoa!” said Cory.
“Why would my dads do such a thing?” Cliff said.
“They wanted you to be on edge,” said agent Corlane. “To not believe what you with your own eyes. They wanted to think you were crazy… so they could use you.”
“Your dads are trying to promote… dangerous ideas,” said agent Halverston.
“My dads would never do that!” Cliff said and pounded his hand on the table.
“Easy, Cliff,” said Cory.
“Think about it, Cliff,” agent Kington said. “How well do you really know your dads?”
It was true. Cliff didn’t know his dads. He thought Cliff Sr. had been gone his whole life. And he’d just met the other dads earlier today.
“What kind of ideas are we talking about?” Cliff said.
“Aliens,” agent Corlane said.
“They have a theory that a race of aliens once tried to colonize the cliffs of Cliffs State Park,” said agent Halverston.
“And they think they’re coming back,” said agent Klington, “to try again.”
“That explains why they wanted the skeleton,” Cory said.
“That’s right,” said agent Corlane. “They think… it was one of the aliens.”
“Can you imagine it,” said agent Halverston. “A rumor about aliens? At Cliffs State Park? It would do unthinkable economic damage! The tourism dollars lost would be through the roof. And then, there’d be copy cats. State parks all across the country, would be shutting down from one crackpot theory started by a cliff ranger everyone trusts.”
“But they’re not Cliff rangers,” Cliff said. “At least not anymore.”
“That’s right,” said agent Klington. “But you are.”
“Again, that’s why they switched the cab out for your car,” said agent Corlane. “They’re messing with you, Cliff. So you’ll believe their wild, outlandish theories. Because they’re a bunch of out-of-work cliff rangers past their prime. But you? You’re a valued public servant in his early thirties. You’re of sound mind. People will believe you.”
“I can’t believe it,” Cliff said. “My own dads, messing with me like that.”
“But you don’t have to take it,” agent Halverston said. “You can mess with them back, Cliff.”
“Wait, are you saying–” Cory said.
“That’s right,” said agent Klington. “We’re raiding their house.”
“Now,” added agent Corlane.
“And you boys are coming with us,” added agent Halverston.
(91)
“But we’ve never done a raid before,” Cliff protested as they made their way out of the diner to the van.
“Yeah, what if they attack us?” Cory said.
“They won’t attack you,” said agent Corlane, “when they see your sword.”
@Superllama7 I just realized, I’ll be done with this around 7pm central time… so someone else will have to take up the last few updates or wait until I get up in the morning
@Superllama7 I, for one, can wait – it’s your opus.
@phendrick I mean, I didn’t write it or anything. But I did put in some time
Swords were distributed and they took off for 127 Fatherson Lane.
“I didn’t know the FBI used swords,” Cliff said.
“We don’t always play by the bureau’s rules,” said agent Klington.
@Superllama7 What, may I ask, was the basis for distributing swords?
@blaineg @Superllama7 They were favorites of some moistened bint.
When they got out of the van in front of Cliff’s dads’ house, Cliff and Cory hung back.
“What’s a matter, boys?” said agent Corlane with a sly smile. “Never taken part in a sword-wielding FBI raid before?”
“No,” Cliff said. “We already told you that.”
“Only once,” Cory said.
“You’ve done this before?” Cliff said to Cory.
“I should clarify,” clarified Cory. “It was in a video game.”
“Well, that’s more practice than most get,” said agent Halverston.
“Which means you’re ready,” said agent Klington.
Cory and Cliff looked at each other. “Do you mean…?” But Cliff couldn’t finish the thought.
Agent Klington nodded. “That’s right. You’re going in first.”
A rudimentary plan was established. Cory and Cliff would go in through the side door, swords brandished. The agents would sneak around the back and wait until they got the signal from the rangers. The signal was to call out: “Flyswatter.”
Cliff and Cory made their way to the front door. Cliff was reaching for the door when Cory stopped him, holding up a hand.
“Do you hear that?” he said.
Cory put his ear to the door.
“What is it?” Cliff asked. “Is it one of my dads?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Cory said.
“It’s not anyone’s dad,” Cory went on.
“What are you talking about?” Cliff whispered.
“It doesn’t sound human, Cliff,” said Cory.
“It sounds,” Cory said, “like a robot.”
“Screw it!” Cliff said. “I don’t care what’s in there!”
And with that, he kicked open the door.
They found themselves in the kitchen. In the corner, they saw what was making the noise.
The dishwasher was running.
“Technically, I was correct,” Cory said. “It’s not human, nor is it anyone’s dad.”
But Cliff ignored him. Something was bugging him: the dishwasher was running… but where were his dads?
(101)
Then Cliff remembered, the bulk of the operation was in the next room.
So Cliff kicked open that door and charged in, his sword brandished.
His dads were there… with their own swords brandished.
@Superllama7 self doubt is setting in. Is there truly nothing better to do with my time?
@Superllama7 I whole-heartedly appreciate the effort you are putting into this
@Superllama7
Outlook good
/8ball Is there truly nothing better to do with my time?
“Son!” Cliff Sr. shouted, seeing Cliff.
“Dad!” Cliff shouted.
“Son!” Paul shouted.
“Dad!” Cliff shouted.
“Son!” Johnny shouted.
“Dad!” Cliff shouted.
“Son!” Jimbo shouted.
“Dad!” Cliff shouted.
“Son!” Rice shouted.
“Dad!” Cliff shouted.
“Lookout!” called Cliff Sr. “There’s someone right behind you! And he’s got a sword!”
“That’s my co-ranger, Cory,” Cliff said. “He’s with me. But what I need to know is: why do you guys have swords?”
“We heard something in the other room,” Cliff Sr. said. He didn’t lower his sword. The dads, Cliff, and Cory: they all kept their swords raised.
“At first we thought it was the dishwasher,” Cliff Sr. went on. “but then it sounded like people. Like two people. Like two people, one of which is our collective son. So now I need to ask you: why do you have swords?”
Cliff lowered his sword in shame. “Because I’m part of an FBI raid on this place, dad. I’m sorry.”
None of the dads lowered their swords, though.
“But that’s impossible,” Paul said.
“What do you mean?” Cliff said. “The FBI guys brought us here.”
“Did you see their badges?” asked Jimbo.
Cliff looked at Cory who shook his head.
“We didn’t,” Cliff said. “But that doesn’t mean they aren’t FBI!”
“But why would the FBI do a raid,” said Johnny, “on the FBI?”
“Wait,” Cory said. “Are you saying that you’re–”
“In the FBI?” Rice said. “That’s right!”
For a minute the room was silent except for a fly buzzing against the window.
“Cliff,” Cliff Sr. said. “What did these men–these apparent FBI agents–what did they call themselves?”
“Agents Klington, Carlone, and Halverston.”
“Klington, Carlone, Halverston?” Paul said.
“Sounds a lot like, ‘Kling tron kah lo nay hal versto nah,’” Johnny said.
“What does that mean?” Cory asked.
“It means, ‘we’re already here,’” said Jimbo.
“How do you know that?” Cliff said. “It’s no language I’ve heard.”
The dads looked at each other. The room was quiet again, save for the fly.
“You wouldn’t have,” Cliff Sr. said. “It’s… their language.”
“The aliens’ language,” Johnny clarified.
“Alright,” Cliff said, “we’re going to need some answers: about the aliens, about the skeleton, about this whole operation. Now.”
Cliff Sr. sighed. He held up his hands and the rest of the dads lowered their swords. “Fine. We’ll tell you everything. But first, that fly is annoying the hell of me. Would someone grab me a–”
“NO!” Cliff cried.
“DON’T SAY IT!” Cory said.
Everything.
(111)
“–Rolled up newspaper,” Cliff Sr. said. Johnny went into the kitchen to find one.
“Phew!” Cory said.
“Close one,” said Cliff.
“No newspaper,” Johnny said, returning to the room. “But we do have this flyswatter.”
The windows shattered and agents Halverston, Klington, and Corlane swung into the room, swords drawn.
When does the Spanish Inquisition show up? No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!
“Freeze, you’re surrounded,” said agent Halverston.
“Good work, boys,” said agent Corlane to Cliff and Cory.
“They’re not on your side anymore,” said Cliff Sr.
“Yeah, you’ll never turn our son against us,” said Rice.
“But he’s not your son,” said agent Klington. “He’s ours.”
“What?” Cliff said.
“That’s impossible,” said Johnny.
“Cliff’s our boy,” said Cliff Sr.
“Not Cliff,” agent Corlane said. “Cory.”
“Dads?” Cory said. His eyes filled with tears. He was so distraught that he let his grip relax and the sword slipped out of his hand. Cliff watched it fall. It seemed almost to be going in slow motion.
But it never hit the ground.
A hand swooped in from nowhere, taking hold of the hilt. Only… it wasn’t a hand at all.
It was a tentacle. And once it’d taken hold of the sword it retracted…
And took the form of an arm once more.
Agent Halverston’s arm.
“Hot damn,” Rice said. “They are already here! We’re too late!”
Agent Halverston and the other agents who were also presumably aliens laughed a strange echoing laugh. “You fool,” he said, addressing Cliff. “You should’ve known! There is no such major as homophone differentiation. Except… on our home planet!”
“Swords up, boys!” Cliff Sr. cried. “Things are about to get a little heated.”
Cliff’s various dads raised their swords. The aliens did as well.
Cliff too raised his sword, but his hands were shaking. His dads said he’d be ready when the time came, but he didn’t feel ready. He felt confused and tired and scared.
Luckily, just then a voice cried out.
“Stop!”
(121)
The room fell silent (except for the sound of that fly, which they’d never swatted, and which had, amazingly, survived when the aliens crashed through the windows, including, presumably, the one it was buzzing against).
They all turned to towards the sound of the voice. It was Cory. “If you’re my dads, and you’re aliens does that make me… an alien too?”
“That’s correct, son,” said agent Corlane.
“But I’ve lived on earth my whole life,” Cory said.
“We sent you here 30 odd years ago to study this planet and send back transmissions,” said agent Halverston.
“But I haven’t sent any transmissions,” said Cory.
“Oh, but you have!” said agent Klington.
“All your years you’ve been sending us transmissions,” said agent Corlane.
“You know when you suddenly feel cold all over and have the shivers?” said agent Halverston. “Those are transmissions.”
“Wait, Cory, you have shiver fits?” Cliff said.
Cory hung his head in shame. “I’m sorry I never told you, Cliff. I thought you’d think I was unfit to be a cliff ranger at Cliffs State Park.”
“Hey!” called Jimbo. “Are we here to fight, or are we here to talk?”
Once again, everyone raised their swords (which, it should be mentioned, had been lowered during the previous short exchange).
“Remember the formation, boys,” called out Cliff Sr.
But before they could attack, the aliens all dropped their swords.
“They’re surrendering,” cried Paul.
But it was no surrender.
Their tentacles leapt out and quickly encircled each of Cliff Sr., Paul, Johnny, Jimbo, and Rice. They squirmed until, one by one, they fell asleep.
“Dads!” Cliff cried out.
“Take these meddling losers away,” said agent Klington.
“But boss,” said agent Corlane, “We got six tentacles and only five guys. What should I grab with my spare tentacle?”
@Superllama7 Finally caught up… for now
@Superllama7 Oh no! 2 minute timers!
@Superllama7 Sounds like someone is having the lunchtime octopus
“Grab a computer or something,” said agent Klington.
“What about something even better?” said agent Halverston, gesturing… towards Cliff.
Cliff put up his sword as the agent Corlane’s spare tentacle shot towards him.
But just before it reached him, something stopped it.
I like seeing all the product, but like everyone else, I think it’s the cliff-hanger story that keeps us going.
It was another tentacle.
A tentacle that belonged to Cory.
(131)
“These may be my dads, and I may be an alien,” Cory called out. “But earth is my home, and you’re my bro, Cliff. So run! Warn everyone!”
“Wait,” came a raspy voice just as Cliff turned to sprint out of there.
Cliff turned to see Cliff Sr.'s eyes open just slightly.
“Brace…” he wheezed.
“…let,” he wheezed, before agent Halverston was able to squeeze him back to sleep.
@Superllama7 Mid-word cliff-hanging. That’s next level
With Cory holding off the tentacle with his own tentacle, Cliff fled. Out of the house, across town, running on foot.
When he got back to his apartment, he sheathed his sword, leaned it against the wall, locked the door, and collapsed onto the floor. He lay face down, and tried to concentrate on controlling his breathing.
He’d just caught his breath when someone knocked.
Cliff slowly got to his feet. He didn’t want anyone to know he was here. But then the toe of his cliff ranger boots grazed the sword.
It clattered to the ground.
“Cliff, I know you’re in there,” came the voice. But it didn’t belong to any of his dads or Cory or the agents who were actually aliens.
“Who is it?” Cliff called out. He grabbed the sword and drew it from its sheath.
“Just a friend,” said the voice.
“Also, a neighbor,” said the voice. “As in Bob, from the next unit.”
“Oh.” Cliff sighed with relief and lowered the sword, stepping closer to the door. “What’s up, Bob?”
“Well, Cliff, I don’t mean to alarm you,” Bob said, “but I saw something… suspicious.”
“What was it?” Cliff asked through the door.
“A man,” Bob said. “With a sword. And he went into your apartment.”
Cliff raised the sword again and looked around. “What did he look like?”
“That’s the funny thing, Cliff,” Bob said. “He looked exactly… like you.”
“Like, I’m pretty sure it was you, Cliff,” said Bob.
Cliff sighed with relief and lowered his sword. “Yeah, that was just me, sorry.”
“Well, you’re in some kind of trouble,” Bob said, through the door.
@Superllama7
Everything is eggcellent and awesome here!
Everything.
(141)
“What are you talking about?” Cliff said, raising his sword again.
“Sorry,” Bob said. “I meant to phrase that as a question: are you in some kind of trouble? Because that would explain why you’re running through the building on a beautiful Saturday with a brandished sword.”
“Oh, right,” Cliff said, sighing with relief and lowering his sword. “Nothing to worry about, Bob.”
“Good,” said Bob. “Because that’s another reason I came over. I’m in some trouble, Cliff. Some serious trouble.”
“What is it?” Cliff said, holding his sword out again.
“Well, you could call it,” Bob said, “a plumbing problem.”
“And the reason you could call it that is because that’s what it is,” Bob went on. “I’ve got an issue with the pipes in my unit. You’re a handy guy, aren’t you, Cliff? Would you mind helping me out?”
Cliff sighed and lowered his sword. He really should be working on the whole dads-getting-kidnapped-by-aliens thing, but he could barely think straight after what he’d seen. “Sure,” he said.
Sure enough, in Bob’s apartment, the sink was backed up. Bob got a bucket and Cliff opened the P-Trap.
There was… something inside it.
Cliff couldn’t see exactly what it was, only that… it appeared to be glowing.
Cliff reached in, and pulled out a strange bracelet made of wooden beads and ancient shells.
But how come it looked like it was glowing a second ago? Cliff thought.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Bob said, standing over him. “It’s amazing those plumbers didn’t catch that.”
“What plumbers?” Cliff said.
“The ones that came just a few weeks ago,” Bob said. “Had a little leak–not the same backup issue I’m dealing with here–and so I called a plumber and it was the darnedest thing: five men showed up!”
“These five men,” Cliff said. “What did they look like?”
“Funny you ask,” Bob said. “They looked like you, Cliff.”
“Or,” Bob clarified, “maybe a better way to put it is that you look like them. As in, you’re almost a composite of their various features and sensibilities.”
The dads! Cliff thought.
Cliff moved to put the bracelet on.
“Not so fast,” Bob said.
Cliff looked up him. Bob was holding out his hand, expectantly.
“But it’s–” Cliff began to say.
“It was in my p-trap, Cliff,” Bob said. “That means it belongs to me…”
(151)
It was all too much to explain, so Cliff handed it over reluctantly.
Bob seemed to sense something in Cliff’s attitude, and said with a warm smile: “Tell you what? How about this: whoever it looks better on gets to keep it.”
He put the bracelet on himself and observed it as Cliff stood by.
“Not bad,” Bob said. He took it off and handed it to Cliff. “Now you’re turn.”
@Superllama7 Is that a clue, or just bad editing? Time might tell
@Superllama7 If only Agent Halverston was here to guide us…
@Superllama7 Well, we establish in the previous quote from Bob that he’s not exactly a stickler for grammar. Maybe this carries over and he’s not that concerned about spelling when he speaks, either.
Cliff had barely put his fingers through the bracelet’s open when suddenly, the room filled with green light and wind.
@Superllama7 leaning toward bad editing
“Jeez! What the heck!” Bob cried. Cliff struggled to keep on his feet. But then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the wind stopped and the light faded.
Bob’s apartment returned to how it had been just a moment ago, a few pieces of stray junk mail from the kitchen counter settling onto the ground.
“That was weird,” Bob said.
“Very,” Cliff said.
“CLIFF!” cried a voice neither of them recognized.
Cliff turned towards the voice, and found, in the corner of Bob’s kitchen, a strange glowing green figure.
“Well, I think that settles it,” Bob said. “You can have the bracelet.”
“CLIFF!” called the figure again. It had no features save for a vague human outline.
“Who are you? WHAT are you?” Cliff said.
“I am,” the figure said, “your father.”
Cliff couldn’t hide his exasperation. “More dads?”
“I am the father of your dads’ too!” called the figure. “I am the father of us all!”
“Me too?” Bob asked.
“NO!” the figure called out. “I am the father to all cliff rangers! For I am… the original cliff ranger!”
“What?!” Cliff said. “But the Department of Cliff Oversight was established by Senator Hal Cliffers in 1922!”
“Only by name,” said the figure. “Cliff rangers have existed for a long long time. Before the word ‘cliff’ or the word ‘ranger’ had ever been spoken!”
“Let me tell you my story,” the figure said. “I was wandering the fields, naked, when I came upon something… strange.”
(161)
“The very field I was wandering through,” the figure said, “it seemed to end. I walked to the edge and looked over and saw that it was not the end of the world. Rather, the field continued far, far below.”
“That sounds just like Cliffs State Park,” Cliff said.
“It was!” said the figure.
“I thought: here is something special,” the strange figure continued. “So I decided I would protect this place. Who would ever attack, I did not know. But I had a hunch.”
“And what happened?” Bob asked. “Did someone attack?”
“No,” the figure said. “Not someone. Something.”
“I saw it one day,” the figure went on. “Something rocketing towards the ground. It landed in the side of the cliff. It looked almost human but with tentacles for arms. I did not speak its language. Hell, I had no language of my own. But the high pitched noises it made, I understood intuitively.”
“What was it saying?” Cliff asked.
“It was saying,” the figure said, “‘This land will be mine.’”
“I fought the alien creature,” the figure said. “It was armed with lasers and forcefields. Me? I had only a sharp stick and several stones. But using my human cunning, I felled it.”
“The skeleton!” Cliff said.
“That’s right,” the glowing figure said in its booming voice. “But there’s something you need to know.”
“What is it?” Cliff asked.
“Before it took its last breath, it was able to send a distress signal back to its planet.”
“But that must’ve been thousands of years ago,” Cliff said. “Why didn’t they return until now?”
“Because their planet is a several thousand years’ journey away,” said the figure. Then… he began to flicker.
“I don’t have much time,” the figure said. “You need to go, Cliff! They’re taking your dads to Cliffs State Park.”
“Should I call the police?” Cliff said.
“No!” the figure cried. “Don’t you get it? Your dads make up the FBI’s entire Department of Cliff Dwelling Extraterrestrial Research & Terrestrial Cliff Protection. And they were no match for them. The police won’t be able to help you.”
“But if they can’t stop the aliens, who can?” Cliff asked.
“There is only one,” the figure said.
@Superllama7 Is it the cabbie?
“You,” the figure said. “Cliff, it’s you.”
@Superllama7 I was thinking red herring on that one…
@Superllama7 You’re forgetting the Spanish Inquisition!
“What? How can I–” Cliff began, but a great flash of light cut him off.
When it finally faded, the figure was gone.
“Seems like it’s time to get to Cliffs State Park,” came a voice behind Cliff.
(171)
Cliff swung around. It was Bob.
“We’re in my apartment, remember?” Bob said.
“Oh, right,” Cliff said.
“Look, Cliff,” Bob said, “I know I’m not a cliff ranger or anything, but if there’s anything I can do to help…”
“There is one thing,” Cliff said.
The aliens had tied up the dads at the base of the cliff. Cory stood sullenly behind them, a metal collar around his neck.
“Now, you shall watch,” called the alien formerly known as agent Klington, “as we complete what our ancestor set out to do thousands of years ago: colonize this cliff!”
“You monsters!” cried Cliff Sr.
Oh, but that is only the beginning!" said the alien formerly known as agent Corlane.
@Superllama7 What was the one thing?!? Cliff-hanging across episodes now, apparently
@Superllama7 well that was quite the jump in storyline
“Once we have this cliff colonized,” said the alien formerly known as agent Halverston, “we plan to colonize… every cliff in the United States!”
“And then every cliff,” said the alien formerly known as agent Klington, “IN THE WORLD!”
@Superllama7 (Just scored an IRK, btw… spoiler alert: it’ll be scarves)
So…the plot has thickened. Will Cliff save the Cliffs!?
The aliens began laughing maniacally.
“Someone is going to have to tell me what’s so damn funny,” someone shouted from atop the cliff.
“But how could it be!” shouted Halverston.
“I don’t get it!” shouted Corlane.
“It’s impossible!” shouted Klington.
“It’s Cliff!” shouted Cliff from the top of the cliff that was the main attraction of Cliffs State Park.
Wait, is that the whole narrative in one thread?
@stinks Oh. It’s not over. Depressed and impressed all at once.
Apologies for combo break. I will now upvote indiscriminately.
@stinks no worries! stay tuned…
“But we wrecked your car,” shouted Halverston. “And set up a fake cab company so you would be distrustful of cabs.”
“Not to mention, there are many stretches between here and your apartment without sidewalks,” shouted Corlane.
“Well, there’s something you didn’t consider,” Cliff shouted.
“That my neighbor Bob would be home and willing to give me a ride in exchange for a little plumbing help.” Cliff looked over his shoulder. “Thanks, Bob.”
“Any time,” Bob said from his hatchback. “Although, actually I shouldn’t say that. You see there’s something you should know, Cliff.”
“I work most days. From around nine in the morning until five in the evening,” Bob said.
“Why are you telling me this?” Cliff said.
“I just said ‘any time,’ but that was untruthful,” Bob said. “There are definitely times when I’ll be too busy to give you a ride. Namely between nine and five. But also, a little before nine and a little after five too. Because my work hours don’t account for the commute. Also, I play Ultimate Frisbee on Thursday nights in the summer.”
“Okay, good to know,” Cliff said.
“Great,” Bob said. “Glad to clear that up. Anyway, do you need to me to wait to drive you home, because I should actually get a few things done…”
“No, I should be good,” Cliff said.
“Cool,” Bob said. “Well, I’ll just take off.”
“Great,” Cliff said.
“Rolling up the window now,” Bob said.
“Sounds good,” Cliff said.
“What was that?” Bob said. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you over the window rolling up.”
“I just said ‘sounds good,’” said Cliff.
“Ah, great,” Bob said. He rolled up the window.
As for Cliff, he leapt. Right off the edge of the cliff.
@Superllama7
/image gasp!
@Superllama7 I didn’t realize this was taking place in Minnesota.
“What is he doing!?” cried Rice.
But Paul noticed something.
(181)
“Wait, is that a harness he’s wearing?” Paul asked.
“By golly, it is!” Cliff Sr. said. “And it’s attached to a rope!”
Cliff rappelled easily down the side of the cliff, just as he’d learned at the Cliff Ranger Academy years earlier. When he reached the bottom, he quickly took off the harness and drew the sword slung across his back before the aliens could attack.
“Now, we fight!” Cliff shouted… just as a rogue tentacle shot out, stripping him of his weapon.
@Superllama7 This is a self-contained Cliff-hanger. Nice
Cliff looked where the tentacle had come from.
But it couldn’t be!
“Cory?” Cliff said, his eyes nearly filling with tears.
“I’m sorry, Cliff,” Cory said. “It’s this cyber collar. I don’t control what I do. They do.” He indicated the aliens, who broke out laughing.
“Did you think you’d be able to take us on, one-on-four?” Corlane said.
“The humans really are as brash as they seem!” said Halverston.
And it was right, why did Cliff think he could do this alone? Only, he was about to learn, he wasn’t alone at all!
“I am with you, my son,” said a booming voice that seemed to speak directly into in his ear.
Cliff felt a heat coming from his wrist, and looked down. “Do as I would do!”
The bracelet’s glow pulsed with the words of the first cliff ranger.
But how? Cliff thought.
The aliens were still laughing at him as he scanned the landscape. Which was when he saw a stick and two large rocks.
Cliff sprinted for the stick and rocks. The aliens, thinking he was running away, only laughed louder.
Cliff grabbed the stones first. He threw one and then the next hitting both Corlane and Halverston each in the head.
“What the?” Klington called as his two friends stumbled and then fell the ground. He went to raise his sword… just as Cliff knocked him over the head with the stick.
@Superllama7 This is getting intense! I hope it wraps up by 9 so I don’t have to go to bed on a Cliff-hanger cliffhanger
“It’s just as our ancestor warned!” cried Halverston.
“So that one human proverb was right all along,” said Corlane.
(189)
“What proverb would that be?” Cliff said standing over the aliens.
“That sticks and stones break bones!” said Klington. “Kriton-9, requesting beam-up!”
“Wait!” Cliff cried.
@Superllama7 Bedtime for me! Anyone is welcome to update the story; if you do, please include the episode number to keep things in order. If you leave it for me, I’ll finish in the morning.
/giphy stay classy
@Superllama7 It looks like it’s ending on a cliffhanger. Which. Well. Tracks.
(Edit: JK the site did something weird and I’m totally completely wrong. And I can’t do basic math.)
190
But the three aliens pressed each pressed an unseen button on their necks and disappeared.
Cliff stood for a moment perplexed. Then he saw one of the swords they’d left on the ground.
(191)
Cliff grabbed the sword and walked towards his dads, then around them. When he reached Cory he drew the sword, ready to strike.
(192)
“Wait, Cliff!” Cory cried out.
But Cliff had already swung the sword.
(193)
Cory rubbed his neck where the collar had been. “You freed me!” Cory cried.
“We are bros, after all,” Cliff said. “Now, let me free my dads and then… we’ll go somewhere private to talk this all out.”
(194)
Back at the dads’ house, Cliff Sr. said, “You kinda made it sound like we were going someplace weird. But this is where we’ve lived and conducted our operation for years.”
“Sorry,” Cliff said. “I was afraid the aliens were still listening.”
“Well, now that you’re here, we have something to tell you,” Jimbo said.
(195)
“You’re adopted,” Johnny said.
@mongoose7000 omfg
(196)
“What do you mean,” Cliff said. “Just as I’ve gotten used to you guys, you’re telling me I’m adopted?”
“Not you,” Paul said.
(197)
“Wait, me?” Cory said.
“That’s right,” Cliff Sr. said. “We’ve adopted you, Cory!”
“But,” Cory said, “does that mean…?”
@mongoose7000 It seems like people have trouble looking at the person they’re talking to in this world
“Yeah, what do you think it means? Do you not take sex ed in school? Look at yourself and look at us!”
(198)
“We’re not just bros,” Cory said to Cliff. “We’re now real brothers!”
“That’s right,” said Cliff Sr. “We used our power as FBI agents to really speed the adoption process up. Also, to paper over the you being an alien thing.”
Cliff and Cory embraced.
“But wait,” Cliff said, releasing his new brother. “There’s one thing I’m still curious about… Why’s there a taxi cab in the garage?”
(199)
Rice sighed.
“Cliff,” he said. “There’s something you should know about me…”
(200)
“As a Canadian, it took me a long time to earn my citizenship and eventually earn full-time employment with the FBI,” Rice went on. “So, there was a few years where I freelanced as an alien investigator and worked part time as a cab driver.”
“Oh, great,” said Cliff. “That clears everything up.”
Then the dads and Cliff and Cory drank champagne and rejoiced because they’d defeated the aliens and there certainly weren’t any unanswered questions left. Not one. Nope. The story had wrapped up perfectly.
Everything.
@mongoose7000 What happened to the Spanish Inquisition?
@eeterrific You heard @mediocrebot. That’s everything.
Everything.
@eeterrific @mongoose7000 were you expecting them?
@mongoose7000 @simplersimon Google
“nobody expects the spanish inquisition”
@mongoose7000 Thanks for the assist! It was hard to sleep knowing that the stunning conclusion awaited me this morning…
Gotta be honest, this is my favorite of the ridiculous meh-rathon stories.
That was awesome!
[OK, mediocrebot - your turn]
POPSOCKETS! SPA KITS! POLLY POCKETS! AWESOME!
Thanks Superllama and Mongoose!
I actually read this thread to my kids as a bedtime story the other night.
Very fun! Très amusèment! Big thanks to the author and @supermongoose! Oops, I mean @superllama7!
Oh Cliff
Sometimes it must be difficult not to feel as if
you really are a cliff
when fascists keep trying to push you over it!
Are they the lemmings
Or are you, Cliff?
Or are you Cliff?
I have this funny feeling that percussive massagers are the new Bluetooth speakers… which were the new… tactical flashlights.
A week later, this story still holds up.