Nowhere Men

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All I thought I was going to ever need in life was a pencil and paper, and my college education. My philosophy department seemed to get on fine with just pencils and paper, but later on it turned out that I couldn't pay rent. Customer service folks didn't like me, supermarket patrons didn't like me, and my mom wanted me out of her apartment before I turned thirty.

I'm twenty-two, and even if eight years seems like plenty of time, living with my mom's not my idea of fun. So there I was, the summer after graduation, planning on sleeping till noon, all until my mother burst in with a bus ticket in her clutched in her hand before sun-up. I groggily peeled myself off the sweat-drenched pillow, squinting just to make out the words.

HACKETTSBURG- 1 WAY- JUNE 6TH- 8:17 A.M

"Your good-for-nothing Grandpa sent a letter," Mom snarled. "He's got some business, so he wants you to watch the farm. It'll do you good, you useless sack of crap."

I didn't even know Grandpa had a farm. I didn't even know a town named Hackettsburg existed. Apparently, neither did my cabbie, so he dumped me out a good five yards away from the curb of the bus stop, and I was left to hoof it to Nowhere's-burg. To clarify, I was left to hoof it fifteen miles to Nowhere's-burg.

I was flipping out over the fact that I left Grandpa waiting for me when he had to go on business the entire way (the rest of the day and night), but when I got there and took a look around at the state of disrepair the farm was in, I concluded that Gramps wasn't the business type. I mean, there were no crops grown, no animals running around, not even a dog napping in the dog house.

Then a pang struck me. What if Gramps was dead?

Some burst of energy surged through me, and I dropped my bags, let out a battle cry, and charged the door. After catching my breath and realizing I tore it clear off the hinges, I looked around the one-roomed shack. The place was coated in more than a year's worth of dust, the blinds were shut, and a few irate bats flew out.

The only thing that was left was the letter on the table. I picked it up, tears forming at my eyes as I read.

May 3rd

Dearest Jack:

Just seeing his hand-writing made me cry. It looked like he had struggled even writing those simple words.

I saved up enough money, and decided to go to Hawaii for a while. Manage the farm until I get back, please. There's leftover pasta in the fridge for you.

Love,

-Gramps

I felt like a donkey's ass. It didn't even bother me at that point that my grandfather was a total slacker. But what bothered me ever since I graduated is that I saw no future for myself. I didn't even know where to start.

So I went outside, and stood there like a big gaping moron. I had lived in the city my entire life, and I didn't know a thing about farming. I never read The Good Earth, never watched Green Acres. In fact, I downright detested nature. Always setting off my allergies.

After a few minutes of standing around idiotically, I finally found something to do. There were a couple guys sitting around in the back of a pick-up in one of the fields, throwing crumpled beer cans on an exponentially growing pile. I huffed, put on my "I mean business face", and marched on over.

I don't think the glare was to much avail. They kind of looked at each other, than at me, and one of them belched apathetically. Then again, I'm not exactly threatening-looking or anything. I couldn't even intimidate a kindergartener. I'm scrawny as hell, I wear British health care-like glasses with lenses thick enough to be used in binoculars, and I have hair pasted to my head like Crispin Glover in Back to the Future.

"Ummm... could you guys kindly take your beer to your own house?" I squeaked, rubbing my hands together. I looked at the guys expectantly, and the one belched before let out a fart..

"Ehhh... Randy said we can do what we wanted here," the less flatulent of the two replied, not even looking at me. He was tall, ruddy, wore a thin moustache and yellow bandana, and his friend was a short character with a crew cut and a bare, tattooed chest. I think it was a giant flaming skull, but I wasn't paying attention.

I flapped the front of my collared shirt, and decided to go with another question.

"Ummm... do you know what I should do with this farm?" I asked. They shared a disbelieving expression, turned to each other, and burst out into derisive laughter, pounding the truck bed and pointing at me.

"Didja hear that, Melvin?" the taller guy asked, sitting up from the side of the truck bed. "The kid's been had!"

"Damn straight, Marv!" the tattooed guy agreed. "What a bleeding idiot!"

Marv wiped a tear from his eye.

"Ahhhh..." Then he looked down at me, while Melvin was too busy on the last bits of laughter. "Just go get a hoe and till the land, or something. Then plant some crops, and we'll pick them up for you. Easy enough."

I nodded, then turned and left, only to hear Melvin say: "Hey Marv, you said 'ho'."

Shaking my head, I made my way over to what looked like a tool shed, or at least another dilapidated shack. Once inside, the door slammed shut without warning, and I had to grope around in the dark for five minutes before finding what I thought was a hoe. Upon closer inspection, or at least what I could feel of it, it seemed like something I could till with. So I groped my way to the door, stumbling over tools strung around the dirt floor, and made my way outside.

There was space right to till in the field where Marv and Melvin were tossing beer cans, thankfully far enough from them. I lifted the hoe high above my head, let out another war cry, and swung it down with enough force to split a boulder open.

But suddenly, and once the hoe touched ground, I dropped it, and fell over with a biting pain in my lower back.

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I wound up propped up in bed for the rest of the day. Marv and Melvin had to carry me in, and this accident was in the early morning. The day seemed to drag on forever, and at around two in the morning, it seemed like the pain subsided. Either that, or I was so tired that I didn't care anymore.

But as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard a creak of the floorboards and some just audible cursing. Then came the sound of someone dropping their luggage and an letting out an exhausted sigh.

The next thing I saw was Grandpa's face looming over me, his mischievous brown eyes flickering.

"Ran out of cash, so I came home early," he explained. I noticed he was wearing the loudest Hawaiian shirt he could possibly buy, and that he hadn't even bothered to kick off his muddy flip-flops. The thought of my grandfather as a slacker came over me again. I knew he probably just saved up government checks or something for not growing anything at all to go to Hawaii.

But I was so tired. Tomorrow would be another day for us nowhere men.

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Okay, just a little prologue before I get down to business. Just wanted to set up shop is all. Actually, I'm not too sure if this'll be anywhere as long as In My Life, my BTN fic, but I'm up for some more writing. Also, I'll have something to keep writing if writer's block strikes, so that's a good thing. I've been wanting to start another project anyway, and HM:SNES seemed like a good pick. I've been planning this for a while though, and got around to writing the prologue tonight.

So from here on out, it looks Jack and Randy have got some major work to do together. Until next time!

Oh wait, and in tradition of most of my writing:

Nowhere Man (by John Lennon and Paul McCartney)

He's a real nowhere man
Sitting in his nowhere land
Making all his nowhere plans for nobody

Doesn't have a point of view
knows not where he's going to
Isn't he a bit like you and me?
Nowhere man please listen
You don't know what you're missing
Nowhere man, The world is at your command

He's as blind as he can be
Just sees what he wants to see
Nowhere man, can you see me at all
Nowhere man don't worry
Take your time, don't hurry
Leave it all till somebody else
Lends you a hand
Ah, la, la, la, la

Doesn't have a point of view
knows not where he's going to
Isn't he a bit like you and me?
Nowhere man please listen
You don't know what you're missing
Nowhere man, The world is at your command
Ah, la, la, la, la

He's a real nowhere man
Sitting in his nowhere land
Making all his nowhere plans for nobody
Making all his nowhere plans for nobody
Making all his nowhere plans for nobody