Sequel: Earth to Me

Generation Why Bother

Swampland Calling

It was a weird reminder of our situation when the monitor just started going off like a phone ringing at about one in the afternoon that day. Mick and Chance didn’t think anything of it, but Tegan and I exchanged confused expressions, completely at a loss for what was going on. Mick raced toward the monitor and touched a button on the circuit board, which made the ringing stop and another screen to take over the radars all over.

What really made me jump back in my seat on the couch was seeing Andy and Anthony on that screen, hunched together to fit within their phone’s camera angle. In the lower left corner, Mick, Chance, Tegan and I were shown as we were. Must have been a webcam, I thought.

Tegan was shooting all sorts of funny looks into the camera like she was witnessing the pinnacle of technological development. I’d have been doing the same thing if I wasn’t so worried about looking dumb for the other half of Put’emup, Put’emup, who definitely didn’t look like they were in the mood to see our faces.

“What’s up, guys?” Mick said, smiling at them. “How was your trip?”

“Crappy and the jet lag sucks, but that’s not why we’re calling,” Anthony answered, brushing his hair back.

“We got a little lost on the way here, which is why we’re calling about two hours late,” Andy tried valiantly to smirk, but he failed. “We’re in the hospital right now. We’re gonna head in pretty soon and we’re gonna keep the camera rolling.”

Tegan slapped my arm and whispered harshly, “All this technology is making my head spin.”

“I’m not complaining,” I shrugged. “Makes for easier contact.”

When I looked back to the screen, Andy was elbowing Anthony because he was falling asleep on his shoulder, and Chance looked back at us and wiggled his eyebrows.

“We kind of fell asleep on the plane ride, and…yeah, it hasn’t been easy to wake up,” Andy sighed while Anthony yawned and stretched right next to him. “But we were just calling to let you know we’re fine, and we’re right in front of their room. We’re gonna go in now. Do you want us to videotape it?”

Mick, his arms folded, swayed back and forth. “We’d like you to stream it, yeah.”

“Yeah, we’re not carrying a big camcorder in here, Andy’s using his phone. In case any of you were wondering,” Anthony added, rubbing his eyes. His voice was thick with a layer of sleep.

Andy thus turned the camera away from him and Anthony, but we could still hear him sigh and say, “Alright, let’s get this over with. I’m gonna try to be as incognito as possible.”

He held the camera at his waist-height to make it not completely obvious he was recording, and we could see his hand reach out and knock at the door. There was a pause.

Then, a shrill voice shouted, “Come in!” followed by a deeper voice firmly stating, “Dude. Cut it out.”

We saw Andy’s hand make a “why not” motion and grab the handle to the door, opening it. Light flooded the camera from the room, and of course, in that room, there were two teenage boys in separate beds. The one nearer to us was on the larger side and wore glasses, and he had his eyebrows pinched together in the middle of his forehead in sheer confusion at Andy and Anthony standing in their doorway.

The other kid was grinning mischievously, leaned forward. In the same high-pitched voice that ushered them in before, he said, “Why hello, I don’t believe we know you!”

“Riley, shut up, that’s not something you want to say to people we don’t know,” the other kid said, shooting his pal a dirty look.

His friend laughed a little bit with a half-smile, but turned back to look at their fellow guardians. After a few seconds of pure silence, he said, “Okay, seriously, do we know you? Why are you here?”

The camera shifted a little bit, and then we heard Andy say, “Yeah, they’ve got scars. They’re who we’re looking for.”

Anthony shuddered, “Dude, shut up. You’re even creeping me out.”

Despite his words, Andy held up the phone and gave us a better glimpse at our future teammates. Sure enough, the lightning branches puckered their skin just like all of us – the kid with the glasses had vein-like lines that glowed deep purple along his arm, and the other kid’s much darker skin was nearly blackened by the lightning scars. As if on cue, they glanced at each other and seemed to close in on themselves.

“Um…excuse me? Who the hell are you guys and why are you pointing a fucking camera at us?” the louder one said, making all of us cringe with the seemingly sudden f-bomb.

Andy handed the camera to Anthony; we could tell that when the angle changed and suddenly the angle was pointed towards Anthony’s crotch before it was again pointed at the two teenagers. This time, though, Andy was standing in front of them. It was like déjà vu for me and Tegan – I had to wonder if he was gonna rehash the same speech he gave us.

“We understand that last night, you were at a concert, and you got struck by lightning. As the doctors have probably told you, your scars should have at least faded by now – but they’re even darker. They stand out more. And while I have to admit that it’s pretty damn cool to look at, there’s something totally different that goes along with it,” Andy started, switching things up. “The point is, you’ve been recruited to be a part of a team of guardians chosen to defend the earth.”

The bigger one stared at Andy. “…Are you high, sir?” he deadpanned.

Anthony laughed loudly in a big hoot, and Andy shot him a really poopy look.

Mick slapped his forehead and grunted, “I had a feeling it would go like this.”

In response, Chance started cracking up, sounding like Santa Claus. All the laughing certainly wasn’t helping the situation at hand, and soon enough, Andy got visibly frustrated and with a bright red face, said sternly, “Alright, let’s start over. I’m Andy Allen, that’s Anthony Alvarez, we’re one-half of the band Put’emup, Put’emup, and a few months ago our band got struck by lightning sent by the stars to recruit us as guardians of the planet, because in a few months we’re gonna get attacked by aliens and there are eight people who are gonna keep that from happening. Now our band is only four of those guardians, two other teenagers got struck like you a few weeks ago, and now you’re the only two pieces left in the puzzle.”

He said it all in such a rush that I didn’t even hear him stop to take a breath. We waited with baited breath and I caught myself staring at his unsteady knees bumping into one another.

Suddenly, both teens burst into laughter, leaning forward and holding their sides to keep them from splitting.

“Listen to this guy, Chuck!” the fella without glasses squeaked.

“I can’t tell if we’re drugged from the hospital or if these guys are serious,” the bigger guy – I guessed that one was Chuck – snorted.

The camera switched angles again and this time Andy was close to the screen. He walked near the door and it seemed like they were about to leave the room as Andy spoke, “Let it be known that we are dealing with two 17-year-old boys named Chuck Botts and Riley Johnston. Those are the names in the file attached to their door.” He pointed to a plastic bin suspended to the door. “We don’t know anything else about them. Find their Facenook pages, their Flitters, their Flyspaces, if they’re still using that – find anything you can about them.”

I would’ve bet that Riley and Chuck would’ve had something to say about what he was telling us to do, but they were still too busy laughing their butts off to interject. When Andy and Anthony were leaving the room, though, Riley’s voice rang out again.

“Hey, where are you going? We need some comic relief in here.”

Anthony took over in explaining this time. “We already had to cancel a gig because of this guardian thing, and we can’t afford to cancel any more. This isn’t the end of us as far as you’re concerned, because we’ll definitely be crossing paths again at some point soon. But all I can say for now is this – don’t ignore the lightning on your body. Those scars aren’t going away, and trust us, it’s normal, considering the position you’re in right now. Andy was kind of an idiot just now when he tried to explain everything to you all at once,” he paused, making sure to get Andy’s stinkface on camera, “but he’s right. You’re in for a ride, whether you accept it or not.”

Ever so eloquent, Riley said, “You guys are high, I swear to God.”

That was when Anthony and Andy stormed out of their hospital room once and for all, slamming the door behind them. Andy took the camera again and Anthony wiggled his way into the shot once again.

“Well, we’re gonna go catch our plane home,” Andy sighed, still bright red in the face. “We’ll be home tonight. Talk to you later, guys.”

Mick, still standing up, halfheartedly said, “Later, dudes.”

They hung up, and the monitor went back to buzzing about radar signals and mapping out the Earth. The apartment fell silent, dead. It was unnerving to have such a ruckus be cut short so suddenly. For something that we anticipated to be earth-shattering and a rousing show of teamwork, it certainly didn’t feel like one.
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Woo hoo! Chuck and Riley have been in a few past stories of mine, but they never really found their places until I wrote them here. They've been in some pretty poopy ones, but only one is posted here on Mibba - and yeah, it's still pretty shitty and dumb, but it's pretty canon too. It's called The Mighty Mosh and it's old as balls and I really don't recommend it. I've tried to work certain aspects of it into this story so that it's irrelevant, but if you want the full crap about those two, you can check it out, but don't say I didn't warn you of how terrible it is. For real, I wrote it in ninth grade and I'm typing this as a college freshman.

Also, is it obvious that I don't want to get sued? Flitter = Twitter; Flyspace = Myspace; Facenook = Facebook. (Not sure if this has come up yet, but Skytunes = iTunes as well.)