F**k Australia

The Mom in the story heads to Australia to stop the meteor that's going to wipe it out. While there she meets a very peculiar hermit.

Let me tell you about my dog. I got him for my sixth birthday, he was a two year old black lab at the time, housetrained and everything so my parents could put minimal effort into raising it. A dog that worked right out of the box, so to speak. I loved this dog, I remember it first coming bounding in the door and knocking me down right away, just BAM and I was on the floor, this giant beastly thing on top of me. I started to cry, fully expecting this dog to rip into my throat, I looked at my parents in horror “So this is how it's going to happen is it? Just bring in this feral animal to rip me to shreds while you sit there sipping wine and chuckling. I said I was sorry for writing on the walls, I really am.” The thoughts raced through my head in a split second. Looking back now it seems ridiculous, but in the moment with that giant beastly thing on top of you, you panic, start rationalizing what's happening.

The dog started whining when he saw me cry though, and then started licking my face to try and cheer me up. I sat up and hugged it around the neck, feeling the leather collar underneath my hand. His name was Bow Wow, but I started calling him just by the letters, BW, because I found it funny to abbreviate something when the abbreviation doesn't actually make it any shorter to say.

This dog was amazing though, I've never met another dog like it and still miss it every day. People have said to me, “That's because it was your first dog, you always remember your first dog the most.” But no, this dog was special. After all how many dogs save your entire family and robot Hitler from a bear with a rocket launcher? Exactly, it was a really awesome dog.

My father was working late the night this whole story takes place, I'm sorry it's taking so long to get to the good part but it's important for context you understand exactly how cool this dog was. He was the Fonzie of dogs, the NPH of dogs, but more pansexual and not homosexual, as dogs are known to be. My Mom was tucking me into bed, my father was working late, as usual. Being the president takes a toll on you, even though he jokes that he doesn't even run the country. He's just the poster boy to take the heat. I can still see the wrinkles forming, the gray hair, the scared expression behind the eyes. The longer he's president the more he sees the follies in our system, more he realizes he's acquired the most powerful position in the country, in one of the most powerful countries in the world, and he still doesn't have enough power to change things for the better. I was only six years old at this point in my life, so I may be putting more into the memory then actually existed. For all I know he had a blast the whole time being president, but somehow I don't feel that was the case.

My Mom had just got back from Australia, where she had worked directly with the government to stop a meteor that was heading straight for the continent. I guess I should tell that story, as it is a pretty good one. It was kind of funny how it happened; the Australian government came forward with a press conference saying there was a meteor heading straight for earth and everyone gasped. Oh no, what will we do? Then they specified it was not an apocalypse meteor, well not for everyone. It was just big enough to destroy Australia. Then everyone laughed and promptly forgot about it. Except the Australians, they tried everything to get someone to help. They offered beer, shrimp, even surfboards, then after running out of things to offer, started offering sexual favors. Seriously, there was a news release saying the president of the USA (my father) could do whatever he wanted with whoever he wanted from Australia, as long as he saved Australia from the meteor. When he heard this he kind of went silent, and murmured “Can't, married....” then went off to the lounge with a cigar and bottle of whiskey to think about how much he really loved his wife, and to look at a swimsuit calendar from Australia. My Mom reacted quite the opposite, and just said “I'll help you Australia!”

And so she did, she got the next flight she could to the island of death beetles, snakes, and whatever else that breathes and can kill you, and headed straight to their largest science center. It was three live in trailers tied together with duct tape, and a small pen with a goat. The second biggest science center in Australia was just one trailer with a goat.

When she got there they were ecstatic, and drunk. They couldn't believe they had an actual PHD coming to help them, the highest education any of the Australian scientists had was a AST, and Australian science thingy presented by the Prime Minister. What it basically means is one time, in a bar maybe, you mentioned science, so everyone went “THAT PERSON SCIENCES! HE DOES THE SCIENCE!” and so they get to spend the rest of their days pretending to know what they’re talking about. As a result they have a pretty skewed view of how the world works. Like how they think water is just mashed up dragonflies.

“I need a telescope.” My mother said, and they brought her a magnifying glass. “All right.” She said, trying not to offend “This... isn't a telescope. Like even a little bit. Are you stupid?” Not trying that hard not to offend, but still, she said stupid instead of retarded, so it was a good first step. “All right, I need a laptop.” They brought her a small puppy. A “laptop” animal they said. At this point my Mom was right on the edge of saying “F**k this, f**k Australia” before tossing on her Darwin natural selection t-shirt and doing a wheelie into the sunset. Obviously when she was telling me this story she didn't use any vulgarity, but I've since revised the story for accuracy.

She tried to use the magnifying glass to see the meteor; it was but a small speck in the sky, more resembling a star right now then a terrifying ball of death. “How the hell did you guys see this meteor? How do you know it's going to hit here?”

“Oh, our astrologist told us.”

“Wait, your astrologist?”

“Yeah this guy just loves stars and s**t.”

“All right. Then where is he? Does he have a telescope?”

“Oh god yes, he has thousands of telescopes. He's a genius at that kind of thing, and kind of a nut.”

“So he does all the star and space related things for Australia?”

“Yeah, but he's not the only one! Oh no, there's also a guy obsessed with animals, knows all of them, everything about them. A guy who studies dirt, he's really crazy, puts dirt in jars and stuff and tells us tales of dirt turning into different dirt.”

He went on like this for awhile, naming off different hobbyists who altogether took care of Australia while living on welfare, just because they love it so much.

“So... what do you guys do here? At the science centers?”

“Oh you know. Science and stuff.”

At this my Mom left, muttering many vulgarities, saying she's starting to not care if Australia is destroyed or not. There was actually a press conference after she saved Australia, where she said, on live TV, that if anything like this ever happens to Australia again, that she would rather “Be lowered into a pit of horny, rabid, cannibalistic baboons because they are more intelligent and better mannered then any Australian she met on the trip.” They pulled that segment very quickly, but that didn't stop it showing up on YouTube the next day. She became internet famous after that one.

But off she was, across the country to find this guy with a borderline fetish for space. They didn't have telescopes, but one of the scientists had a supped up four wheeler he had made with government money. It had bright red flames painted on all over it, and twelve exhaust vents along the bottom that spit out flame as it chugged along at speeds not meant for a human without a roll cage around them. It had under glow as well, bright red under glow, and a stereo system you could hear for miles. It must've cost close to a hundred thousand dollars to make this beast what it was.

“How'd you get the government to pay for this?” She asked

“It was for science.”

As she crossed the country she wondered what the hell she was doing, why she cared about Australia at all. But she knew at the same time, even while she doubted herself, that because she had the ability to save a bunch of innocent people that she had to. The other side would be living with their deaths on her conscience for the rest of her life. She also thought about her husband, my father, and if she should stay with him. I mean, he also could've saved them, easily, with the entire US government behind him. But instead he got flustered at the thought of sex with the entire Australian populace and retired to his lounge. She thought seriously about leaving him when she got back, but the scandal that would cause. Maybe she should wait till he's done his term. Or would it be the best revenge to do it now. Or, while we're talking motives, just for the fun and the chaos it would cause the media. She eventually decides that if she doesn't manage to save Australia and escapes back to America, she'll leave him immediately. Just so the media aims all their focus at him, and not that she failed to save a country and, kind of, in a way, caused millions of people to die. Yes she thinks, no one even tried to save Australia, of course they'll care way more about his love life then an entire nation of people dieing. As ludicrous as it sounds, she was right, that's exactly how that situation would have played out had she not saved Australia. Maybe there would be a story or two about Lindsay Lohans fifth rehab trip or some music executive sexually harassing Taylor Swift, but no one would care about Australia. Also while she pondered all this, she ate three biscuits.

She arrived at the Astrologists house just as the sun was beginning to set. She could hear the dingoes calling to each other, “Hey we found a lamb!”, and “We're going to eat this lamb!” as well as “Does anyone want some lamb? I'm full already and don't want to waste meat. There's a lot of Dingoes that would kill for this lamb, much like I did, just to be able to eat tonight. I would feel like I am not grateful enough should it just sit and rot on the ground.” Dingoes are very polite creatures, although my mother couldn't know this, because it just sounded like tiny wolfs calling to each other. Dingoes are the one creature on this planet, which if they could, would read the New Yorker while drinking chardonnay.

As she pulled up on the astrologists house she was taken aback. The house itself was unimpressive to say the least. The paint was peeling on all sides; there was a car on the front lawn that hadn't been driven in years. In fact vegetation was already starting to take over this dwelling. The burgundy sides were mottled with green moss, and you could see colonies of ants come to and fro from the house. But the part that took her breath away was the top of the house. There was no roof, first of all, which made her wonder how he dealt with rain. But there were gigantic telescopes, five or six, all bigger than the house itself. The house made up about a third of the visual spectacle she saw before her. She marveled that he had managed to accumulate all this on just a welfare budget.

She parked her very cool four wheeler. It was a waste of taxpayer money for sure, but by the end of the journey she was half tempted to ask to keep it if she managed to save Australia. She stood and stretched, mentally preparing herself for what this Astrologist was going to be like. She was pretty sure he was going to be a maniac hermit. Some man who had spent far too much time alone, and had gone off the deep end.

She slowly trudged up the walkway, a bunch of broken stone tablets with some very large plants growing out of the cracks. She stopped just before the door, a door with a round top, and a glass window at the top to check out visitors before he let them in. She took a deep breath, probably muttered more about hating Australia, and then gingerly knocked three times. She heard a scuffling, and a hoarse “Just a minute!” Then she waited.

She saw a pair of half closed eyes, and large bushy eyebrows appear in the window. She noted an ant crawl from his eyebrow and disappear into the large mane of unwashed brown scraggly hair that sat atop his head. It literally looked like a lion’s mane, if a lion was a homeless person in New York.

“Who's dis?” His voice came out as a drunken drawl, a little raspy but a strong voice. It commanded as much authority as a daylight drunk can.

“Melanie Rosenwood. I'm the American scientist who's come to help with your meteor problem.”

“Lies. You're an alien. They always come and try to take my telescopes.”

Melanie let out a long, heavy sigh. Crazed hermit was putting it loosely. If this guy was terrified of aliens coming to take his telescopes she could have a lot of trouble helping him. Plus she was still considering the “f**k Australia” option that kept re-circulating in her brain.

Just as all this was running through her brain though the door swung open and the astrologist was standing there, a foot shorter then Melanie, probably just breaking five feet tall. He had a wide beaming smile that somehow escaped the giant brown mane he had, and he hadn't had a haircut or a shave in what looked like years. How many years exactly, she didn't know. She'd have to cut one of the strands and count the rings to know for sure. As for his attire, it was laughable to say the least. A grubby, greenish brown housecoat, covered in dirt and stains, a burgundy sweater vest sitting on top of it, all its pockets stuffed with pens, crumpled pieces of paper, and telescope lens. To top all this off, socks with sandals. While my Mom never admitted it, I know that was the part that bugged her the most.

“HA I gotcha didn't I? Thought I was crazy didn't you! HA you, supposed to be a scientist, come in, come in!” The astrologist guffawed and chuckled as he led Melanie into the house. She was still very, very convinced that he was a lunatic, just not a dangerous one, or so far as she could tell.

She stopped and her breath caught in her throat like a rabbit in a snare as she saw the inside of this building. Every wall, every supporting beam, everything, covered in layers and layers of paper scribbled with galaxies, stars, constellations, pretty much everything space you could imagine. It was definitely the home of a lunatic.

“Sit! Sit! Make yourself at home!” The astrologist said, magically pulling a chair from a giant stack of papers, and then shoving all the papers off the top of what eventually became a table. It was hard to tell where anything was in this house; his insanity had covered everything in mounds upon mounds of papers. Melanie took a seat, feeling ill at ease in these peculiar surroundings.

“Coffee? Tea? Orange Juice? Eggs? Cereal?” The astrologist continued to rattle off different breakfast foods until finally stopping on an idea, “I KNOW! I'll make crepes, no, no arguing, everyone loves crepes, and my crepes are the best!”

He scuttled off into another room, excited that he had someone to cook for. He had obviously been out here for a long, long time. Melanie wasn't sure if he was being overly friendly because she was the first human face he had seen in a long time, or if he was, in his own weird way, trying to seduce her as she was the first woman he had seen in a long time, or if he just perpetually existed in this manic state, even while on his own studying the stars just chirping to himself and speaking at this rapid machine gun fire tempo. She suspected it was the latter, and hoped it wasn't the second.

He came out of the kitchen with a tray, the tray was shaking violently, two coffee mugs teetered and tottered on top, the liquids jumping and bouncing, trying to escape this earthquake of human jitters they sat upon. Miraculously not a drop was spilled.

“I've done this before.” The Astrologist said, seemingly reading her thoughts, a twinkle in his eye. “I can't stop my hands from shaking, but I can control the shakes. I shake in the same pattern every time, the liquids bounce and jostle but never leave the cup, even when the cup sometimes leaves the tray, here.” He placed a mug before my mother, the aroma wafting up, the smell of fresh coffee enveloping her.

“It smells amazing”

“Australian coffee, I collect and process the beans myself.”

“Do you grow them”

“Heavens no.” He said chuckling, she was unsure if he was chuckling at the idea of growing coffee beans, or at mentioning heavens as an astrologist.

“I pick them in the wild. A bean grown in identical lines in a field tastes the way it grows, like its only purpose was for consumption. It tastes dead, without hope. A wild bean, you can taste the freedom, they are meant to grow their entire life before dieing and beginning life again. And then I pick them, and I hear their screams, it's the assault on their freedoms that give them their flavor.”

At this point Melanie knew this man was completely insane. He's definitely been out here too long. He ran back into the kitchen, screeching “Crepes! The crepes, they beckon!”. Feeling uncomftorble, she picked up her mug, a nice homemade one, a master potter must have made it. She cupped it in both hands, drinking in the aroma, it smelled like coffee, not your regular store bought coffee though, it smelled incredible, like no coffee she had ever smelled but at the same time it smelled undeniably of coffee. She looked into the cup, a brown murky liquid sat there, it looked like coffee for sure, but she was having a hard time taking this man's word. She took in a deep breath before taking a sip. The flavor exploded as it hit her tongue. It tasted amazing, even with no milk or sugar, it had the nutty hues of coffee, but so smooth it felt like velvet sliding across her tongue. And there was not even a trace of bitterness normally associated with coffee. She sighed, wondering to herself, this man is either the craziest person I've ever met or a genius.

She sipped at the coffee for awhile on her own, pondering both where she was, if Australia was even worth saving, and how, if possible, she was going to save it. All these thoughts coexisting, bumping into and over each other in her mind like too many shopping carts in one aisle, was giving her a headache.

Eventually the Astrologist came back into the room, in one arm a platter stacked at least two feet tall with crepes, in the other arm a couple plates, whipping cream, and a bowl filled to the brim with strange berries stewing in what she assumed to be some sort of sugar syrup. A small jar full of white powder was tucked underneath his armpit. She assumed it was icing powder and not cocaine, although cocaine would have explained this odd man's demeanor far easier than trying to understand the synapses charging in ways she had never experienced in another human being before.

Watching him set the table was a feat in itself, borderline superhuman dexterity. The many things he was carrying, and the quivering shake his hands never seemed to stop, everything flew out and landed in the table in perfect symmetry. The bowl of odd berries the most impressive part. He seemed to toss it not caring if it landed upright or not, causing Melanie to jolt at it, but then she saw it land and start spinning, the berry sugar solution inside spinning like a mini whirlpool, the motion of it mixing everything together better then it was before. And the spin was perfect, the solution would occasionally jump up, threatening to stain his nice wooden table, and then falling neatly into the bowl. As the spinning slowed, the bowl started to sit, not even making a sound as it slowed light as a feather into place. Looking at the table, the cutlery, plates, icing sugar (she assumed), berries, and towering mountain of crepes arranged so perfectly you could have taken a ruler and figured out an exact formula to his madness. My Mother was in awe of this.

“How.... How'd you do that?” With a twinkle in his eye and a little chuckle he said in a low whisper.

“I'm not what you would call, entirely human.”

And then he started cackling madly, and the more he cackled the more Melanie considered just bolting, but at the same time she wanted to learn more of this man, nay this creature, that sat before her.

They both sat at the table, in silence for a spell, sipping their coffees. Melanie was still in awe of the unique flavor. They ate breakfast in relative silence, occasionally the Astrologist would murmur something to himself, once she thought she caught a “Can we trust her?” but she just attributed it to her own paranoia.

He was right about his crepes though, they were delicious. Light and fluffy, never torn, all perfect circles. And the odd berry solution on top was so sweet, but not overpoweringly so. Melanie sometimes had a problem with foods that were too rich, but for some reason, while being some of the richest food she's tasted she could eat it without worry. She wondered why he had never tried to capitalize on this, this food that was so miraculous. Then she started wondering if somehow she could profit off it. The meteor was far from both their minds as they feasted.

They finished their meal and both sat back, stuffed to the brim with breakfast delicacies.

“Thank you very much, honestly the best crepes I've ever had.”

“I told you, HA, they always say I'm crazy, but the line between insanity and genius is uhm... uh.” He struggled to find the word he was looking for, becoming visually distressed that he couldn't.

“Thin?” My mother tried to supply the word, hopefully to stop his shaking. It worked, he instantly became relaxed and took another sip of his coffee.

“Yes thin, thank you.” He said, beaming at her, his smile was incredibly white for someone she suspected did not do much in the ways of personal hygiene.

“Now I suppose you're wondering about my comment before, how I'm not exactly human.”

“Maybe a bit..” Melanie said, apprehensively. Trying to question without prodding, in the most polite way possible. He sighed heavily, a deep sadness seemed to overtake him.

“I used to be...” He muttered. “It's a long story, you sure you have time?”

“When's the meteor hitting?”

“Couple weeks, probably more.”

“Then yes, honestly I haven’t the foggiest idea of how to stop it anyways.”

“I might have an idea... But first, a story!”

Author's Note

Like I said in another note, I'm trying to develop good characters int his book, but feel I am failing. Feedback on the introduction of the two main characters in this chapter would be appreciated.