Ronald lived alone in a cabin abutting National Forest land. He had no electricity, relied on a stream for his water and to cool his beer. His only access for supplies was an unmaintained four-wheeler trail. He used his wood stove for cooking and heat, frying bacon and biscuits on the griddle to start each day. He made coffee in his stove top percolator, and added fresh goat milk still warm from the teat. Everything was perfect until Terry showed up.
Ronald left school in the tenth grade to build his cabin on some land his grandfather left him. He had every volume of the Foxfire Books, which explained mountain crafts in great detail. He had not only knew how to make a proper fireplace and stove, but how to render soap from an elk and cure the meat to last all winter. He had a little herd of goats, a flock of chickens, and a dog to help protect the animals. The dog was a mutt, some sort of Australian shepherd mix, but his bark was formidable. The dog had followed Ronald home one day as he returned from a supply trip into town; he hadn’t noticed the dog until he reached the cabin. It was scrawny and nervous, and though clearly hungry didn’t go near the animals or try to steal any food. It happily took what was given, didn’t make a mess, and didn’t want anything more than a job.
Over the years Ronald had run-ins with bears, wolves, wolverines, foxes, cougars, bobcats, badgers, porcupines, and countless groundhogs, gophers, chipmunks, packrats, and mice. A few he had to shoot if they were too sick or old, but mostly he and the dog could scare them off with pepper spray or a gun shot in the air. Ronald loved his forested home and wanted to get along with the animals if at all possible. Over time, most of them learned that if they left the cabin alone, Ronald would leave them alone. It was a peaceable kingdom, with the dog keeping his nose and ears alert for trouble.
One night, Ronald and the dog were woken by a thundering crash and the snapping of tree trunks; as if a giant boulder had broken free of the mountain. They ran outside but only heard diminishing noise in the distance. It was a moonless sky, but as the crashing abated a soft glow lit up the underside of the distant trees.
“Some dumbass teenagers rolled their truck. Now I’ll have to go save their asses. Well, they can wait ‘til morning cause …” Ronald stopped short when he saw a glowing man approach along the trail. He had four arms and legs like a crab.
“That ain’t right,” Ronald said to the dog. The glowing man kept approaching; his crabby steps rustling the pine needles and underbrush. He was lit up from inside like a creepy lava lamp. His face was plastered with a stupid grin and stuck-open eyes.
“Hello. My name is Terry. Who are you?”
“You better stop right there Terry. This is my property and nobody comes on it unless I say so,” Ronald raised his rifle, pointing it in the air.
“Hello. My name is Terry. What’s your name?” he asked, waving his two right arms as a greeting, like some possessed Jack-in-the-Box come to life.
“Mister, you better stop right there, or I’m going to shoot. I mean it!” Ronald leveled his rifle at the glowing man. “This is your last warning! Not one more step!”
“Hello. My name is Terry. Is that a dog?” he asked, noticing the dog barking madly and lunging at his pointed, crabby feet. He reached out to touch the dog which dodged each advance while still trying to bite and bark.
“That’s it. I warned you.” Ronald aimed the gun at Terry’s shoulder, hoping to just wing him as a warning. He pulled the trigger and Terry jerked sideways a bit, like a Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon caught on a lamp post, then jerked back to normal and kept on coming toward Ronald.
“Is that a gun? Was that a bullet? Hello. My name is Terry. What’s your name?”
Ronald shot at Terry’s legs and arms, each time he slowed as if jerking his limb free from something sticky then continued to approach.
“That’s it!” Ronald shot Terry in the face, and he stopped. His arms fell limp, his legs gave out and his head slumped backward. He wobbled in place, still glowing but with a fluttering pattern. Then his legs regained their strength, his arms began to wave and his head slowly re-inflated to reveal his face. The eyes were still stuck open, but the grin was gone. Terry was frowning and started to glow red. Although he was still twenty feet away, Ronald had to back up from the heat. Pine needles, bushes and low hanging limbs started to ignite around Terry in an orb of fire.
“Stop it! You’ll burn down the whole forest!” Ronald yelled. The chickens and goats began to panic, the dog barked and whimpered, as the heat grew more intense. “Please stop!”
Terry’s color instantly changed to blue and a frigid blast of air radiated out from him extinguishing the fires and coating Ronald, the dog and the animals with a layer of frost. Terry resumed his usual soft glow.
“Hello. My name is Terry. Thank you for saying please. What’s your name?”
“What the hell are you Terry? And where did you come from?” Ronald went in the cabin, grabbed a floodlight and headed to where he heard all the crashing earlier. Terry followed behind, skittering along on his pointy crab feet.
Trees were downed for at least a mile; some snapped in half and others uprooted closer to the end of the damage. All Ronald could see was slimy debris strewn around what he assumed was a crash site. The debris looked like big chucks of jellyfish, translucent with the heft of a chuck of meat. The chunks were beginning to soften and liquefy, draining into the forest floor. The dog sniffed carefully, but did not take a taste.
“Terry, where did you come from?”
“Hello. My name is Terry. I was in a ship, but it crashed. What’s your name?”
“Obama. Barack Obama is my name.” Terry quickly scuttled toward Terry and held out both his right hands as if to shake. Ronald carefully put out a hand and shook with Terry. His handshake was warm and firm, just like a handshake should be.
“You are not Barack Obama. My name is Terry. Who are you?”
“We’ll go with Barack for now. Do you need to call someone for a ride? Maybe you can go into town and meet up with some old friends?”
“Hello. My name is Terry. I need a ride home. I do not wish to go to town, I want to be with you Barack Obama.”
Ronald mulled what to do. He couldn’t get rid of Terry and couldn’t shoot him. He hadn’t really done anything but trespass. He could have burned everything down to the ground, but when asked nicely he stopped. And why did he want to know his name so badly. Did he knock something lose in the crash. Was he hurt?
“Are you hurt, Terry? Did you get hurt in the crash?”
“Hello. My name is Terry. My craft was destroyed in the crash but I am well. Thank you for asking.”
“Sure. No problem. Do you need anything, food or water maybe?”
“Hello. My name is Terry. I would like some water.”
“Let me take you to the stream, and you can have all you want.”
Ronald led Terry up the trail, his tiny, pointed feet rustling and clicking as they went, until they reached a bank on the edge of the stream.
“There you go, help yourself.”
Terry walked into the center of the stream and relaxed his legs. As he did so, brilliant light lit up the water in both directions for miles upstream and down. The water flowed through Terry; filling him completely and for a few moments he looked like bulbous aquarium with bits of leaf and a few minnows swimming about his hollow body. A six pack of beer cooling in the water crinkled as they were sucked dry. Then Terry released the water, and the stream dimmed, with sparkles flowing away into the darkness. Terry lifted himself out of the stream and skittered back up to Ronald.
“Hello. My name is Terry. Thank you Barack Obama, and I am sorry that I drank your beer. It was an accident.”
“That’s okay. I have a back stock.” Ronald regarded Terry, still open-eyed and smiling, swaying slightly with his soft yellow glow. The dog had stopped barking but hid behind Ronald, pivoting to stay between Terry and the animals.
“Well, it’s late and it’s been a weird night. I’m going back to bed. Terry, you can stay here. Always wanted a nightlight anyway.”
“Hello. My name is Terry. Goodnight Barack Obama.”
The dog stood watch all night, and by morning was struggling to stay awake. Ronald woke, brought the dog inside and gave him a piece of bacon.
“Good dog.” Ronald got a fire going, and started breakfast. Terry was outside, looking in through a window. “No way is that thing coming inside.” Ronald stepped out, “Are you hungry Terry? Do you want some breakfast?”
“Hello. My name is Terry. Thank you Barack Obama, but I do want any of your food. What is your name?”
“Suit yourself.”
Terry followed Ronald around for the next several days as he tended to the cabin and the animals. He kept his distance, but was never far; his never-blinking eyes always fixed on Ronald.
A month passed, and one day Ronald was chopping wood. A piece of wood split off, hitting him in the shin.
“Goddammit!” Ronald hopped around on one foot, and sat on a stump and rolled up his pants leg to reveal a long gash across his shin.
Terry approached, “Hello. My name is Terry. May I help you Barack Obama?”
“If you can fix this, then be my guest.”
Terry laid all four of his hands on the wound, and Ronald watched as it was absorbed through Terry’s skin leaving his own skin perfectly healed. The pain was gone.
“Wow. That’s some trick Terry. Thank you.”
“Hello. My name is Terry. You are welcome Barack Obama. What is your name?”
“It’s not Barack Obama. My real name is Ronald.”
Terry held out his hand to shake Ronald’s, and Ronald shook back.
“Your name is Ronald. Thank you.” Terry grabbed onto Ronald and pulled him inside his body through an opening on his chest that made a loud slurping noise. Ronald struggled for a few minutes, but was finally still. The dog whimpered, unsure what to do.
Terry went limp and his light dimmed for two days. Then a bulge appeared near his low back and as it grew larger, Terry grew smaller. When they were equal size they split in two. Then both inflated to full size and started to glow.
“Hello. My name is Terry. What is your name?”
“Hello. My name is Ronald.”
“Hello. I am Terry. I am hungry. We should visit the town.”
“Hello. I am Ronald. Yes, I agree. Let’s visit the town.”
The two of them glided over the trail, their crabby feet scrambling over the forest floor, leaving the dog and the animals behind.