It finally happened. Somehow he knew it was only a matter of time before he said something so utterly offensive to his teacher that it ripped a hole in the space-time continuum.

Timmy knew his mouth was impressive. As a 4th grader, his peers had told him that he knew how to swear at at least a 7th-grade level (if not higher!).

On the particular day in question, his swearing had involved something to do with his “hairy balls.” Actually, Timmy wasn’t sure exactly what he had meant to say. He was just repeating what he had heard one of the middle school kids say at one of the bus stops. But as soon as he had said it, he knew he had crossed a line because Ms. Tanninghide’s eyes bulged and her yelling could be heard all the way in the kindergarten section of the elementary school.

He opened the door to the principal’s office wide to report for his punishment. And where he expected to see the homely school secretary Ellen Kushner waiting for him, he instead saw vast plains of red sand.

The door closed behind him and then disappeared altogether.

Air was different on this world. Walking was difficult. And he soon found that the planet’s dominant life forms were long wooden creatures. Whenever he approached these wooden
creatures they would attack his behind with their long wood-planked arms. For the entire time he lived on the planet he would have trouble sitting down. For some reason, too, the word “balls” made the planet’s atmosphere turn rancid. The wooden natives would go wild, chasing another tribe of butt-shaped creatures out of bushes.

The two words “hairy balls” combined in any form would automatically cut off his air supply for a span of minutes. He found this out one day in a friendly conversation with the buttshaped creatures. He felt compelled to talk to these butt-shaped creatures out of acute boredom. But given that all the sounds these creatures made were emitted in the form of noxious gas, there was little pleasure to be had, and Timmy spent most of his days crying, trying to stop himself from saying “balls” and especially “hairy balls,” even when it would rain big bouncy ones with hair growing out of them. (Unfortunately, these were the only edible substance on this planet. Their tastes was, well, less than pleasant).

Timmy would cry and tell himself, “I hate it. I hate it when it rains great big round things with fur growing out of them.”

Then, one day, while the wooden natives were running around wild and the butt-shaped creatures couldn’t stop shouting about something, and it was raining big furry round things in great droves, Timmy finally said, “I’m sorry!”

And then he was sitting in the principal’s office in front of Principal Thwackerson who replied, “Apology accepted.”

***

Oh, and what a wonderful end that would be to the tale of Timmy and his foul mouth! To stop the tale at this moment of his redemption would be marvelous indeed. But, of course, reality is never so neat and cheerful, for as soon as Timmy realized what had happened, he contrived another insult, this one involving the principal performing a certain act with a thick juicy rooster of some sort.

Timmy immediately found himself on the same planet with the foul-smelling butts and the wooden natives—now with big, thick, juicy roosters chasing him as well. And though life wasn’t perfect, for Timmy it beat the hairy rooster-sucking balls off of an apology.

————

Daniel Clausen eats his greens and stays in school. That’s why he write so good. His work has been published in Slipstream Magazine, Leading Edge Science Fiction, and Black Petals. He pity the fool who don’t like his writing. He also has a free short story collection entitled “Reejecttion” that anyone can check out right here.