Sammy's Peculiar Day
by
Ryan Shimp
     As Sammy looked back at the events of the day, she could hardly believe that any of them could possibly be true. But she had, in fact, seen them with her own eyes, so she knew that they must have been true.
      It all started when she was walking home after school. Sammy didn't particularly like school, even though she was rather good at most of the subjects. The reason she didn't like school was that she didn't really have any friends there to speak of. In f act, her only real friend to speak of was her video camera. A little odd, to be sure, but that's the way she liked it.
      "Let us see what we can find to take a picture of to-day," Sammy said to her camera in her old way of speaking. She always took pictures of things she liked to look at: mostly trees and leaves, but also the occasional squirrel or bunny rabbit, hopping ar ound and looking for food. In fact, as she was looking around on this particular day, she happened to see a very large squirrel scamper down the trunk of a tree that was right in front of Sammy.
      "Ooh, let's take a picture of him!" Sammy exclaimed. "He's quite beautiful, he is!" Sammy raised her camera to her eye, and as she focused on the squirrel in her viewfinder and pressed the record button, the strangest thing happened. The squirrel looke d directly at her and yelled, "Hey, you! What d'ya think yer doin'?"
      This startled her so that Sammy jumped up in the air. Still looking through the viewfinder, she replied, "Why, I'm just taking your picture, Mister Squirrel!"
      "I don't recall you askin' for my permission first! When you take a picture of somebody, you have to get their permission first!" the squirrel nervously squeaked at her, in a chirping voice that only a squirrel could have. "And besides, the name is Quin cy!"
      "Well, Quincy, I guess I didn't think that I would need your permission, what with you being a squirrel and all."
      "Well, you should have asked anyway, just to be safe. And what are ya doin' still taking my picture? I don't want my picture taken!"
      Sammy replied nervously, "I'm sorry, Quincy. It's just that I love taking pictures of things. It's kind of a hobby of mine, you see." She didn't stop recording, however--she wasn't about to give up this moment for the world. A talking squirrel--and hi s name was Quincy! She moved a little closer to him.
      "Stop calling me by my first name, little girl! And don't get any closer!" But Sammy kept approaching this incredibly rare find until his body completely filled her viewfinder. "Little girl, how would you like it if someone took your picture, huh?" Th e squirrel snatched the video camera out of Sammy's hand and pointed it right at her. Just then something very strange happened (as if a talking squirrel wasn't strange enough). The camera lens that the squirrel held directly ahead of her started to shi ne very brightly into Sammy's eyes until she couldn't see anything at all, just blinding whiteness. Then everything went black.

*   *   *
      When Sammy's sight came back to her, she seemed to be in a small room. It was the strangest room Sammy had ever seen, mainly because it had only three walls. There were relatively normal walls to her left, her right and her back, but when she looked str aight ahead, she saw nothing at all. And when I say nothing, I mean nothing. The space in front of her was so amorphous (Sammy liked to use big words like that to prove how smart she was) that it had no color or shape or texture of any kind.
      "Did you see the look in his eyes?" Sammy remarked to no-one in particular. "It's as if that squirrel was looking right through me, or rather, right inside me, directly to my soul. It was not a good feeling, let me tell you! Anyway, where am I? This is certainly an odd sort of room, with only three walls! How anyone could live in these conditions, I don't know. I wonder what happened to that squirrel character? And oh! What did he do with my camera? I so like that camera. My father paid g ood money to get me that. Sure, he would have it that I got it from Santa Claus, but I know there's no such thing. I just can't believe that some man is watching my actions throughout the year, and then deciding at Christmas whether I'm bad or good. Fo r goodness sakes, there's just too much evidence against it!
      "Hmm. I hope I won't be staying here forever. It's beginning to get very boring, as this room doesn't have much to it. Wait a second, what's this?" Sammy remarked as she suddenly noticed a small door on the wall behind her. "Well, I guess there isn't really anywhere else to go at the moment. Who knows, maybe that squirrel character can be found beyond this door. He certainly isn't in this room at the moment, right?"
      As she headed toward the door, she felt the oddest thing: she had the distinct feeling that someone was following her, or at least watching her. She quickly turned around, but all she saw was that big amorphous space where the fourth wall should have bee n. Only this time, it seemed to be a little closer. "Who's there?" Sammy nervously shouted into the space, but there was no reply. She continued on to herself, "Well, anyway, I've got to get out of this room, if just to get away from that."
      Sammy opened the door and walked through it. Suddenly her legs fell out from under her and she felt herself falling down what seemed like a long slide. It was very dark, with the occasional flickering light, and the slide itself had indiscernible (anoth er big word that Sammy liked to use) images engraved on it that seemed to run together like a flip book as Sammy slid past. "This reminds me of the Space Mountain ride at Disneyland," she mumbled. "Or was it at Walt Disney World? Either way, it's very scary!" Then Sammy realized that her beloved camera wasn't by her side, and that she was talking to herself. She had often been chastised for talking to herself or to her camera, and she had tried to stop doing it on many occasions. But since no one wa s around, she thought it was okay for the time being.
      Sammy kept sliding faster and faster, and finally she couldn't hold it any longer. "I really don't like how this is going!" Sammy screamed out at the top of her lungs. Just when she said that, the slide bounced up on one side and knocked her off. As sh e fell down, straight down this time, she covered her eyes, saying, "Ohh! I can't watch!" And at that very moment, dear reader, she stopped falling.

*   *   *
      Sammy uncovered her eyes and to her amazement, she was in the arms of a large man. "Don't worry, Miss, you're safe now," the stranger said to her. "After all, I'm here to protect you!"
      Now, Sammy wasn't very good with boys, and she jumped out of his arms from a mix of shyness and offense. Sammy was a very independent creature. She didn't have a whole lot of encouragement from home to do good at school, and she didn't really have any f riends, only acquaintances (another of her big words). She learned to take care of herself quite often, and got kind of upset when anyone offered to protect her or even help her out, insisting that she could do it herself. "Who are you and why are you p rotecting me? And, while I'm at it, what are you protecting me from?" she asked him.
      "The name's Tex, Ma'am, and I'm here to protect you!" the stranger said, tipping his large cowboy-style hat in her direction.
      "Yes, but why are you protecting me, and from whom?" Sammy again inquired.
      "Well, uh, I don't really know the answer to those questions. I just know that my name is Tex, and that I'm supposed to protect..."
      "Okay, Tex, that's enough," Sammy interrupted. "Boy, is he ever annoying!" she mumbled to herself. "Now where am I now? Whoops! Too many 'nows' in that last phrase. Oh, well. Anyway, it looks to me like we're in a town from one of those old Western movies, like Stagecoach!" (Stagecoach being the movie that she watched with her parents on the tele the other night.)
      And she was right: the two of them were standing on a long dusty street, with old buildings on each side. "Everything looks very monochromatic, if I do say so myself," Sammy remarked, flaunting her vocabulary. As she was looking around, a large tumblew eed blew up and almost knocked her over. "Wow! What huge tumbleweeds they have around here!" she exclaimed.
      Just then the tumbleweed stopped and seemed to turn around towards them. "Stick 'em up, pardners! Or Brown Bart will shoot ya both!" the little brown ball of weeds seemed to shout at the two of them standing there. Then, from the inside of the ball app eared two six-guns that were pointed directly at Sammy and Tex.
      "I have to say that this is probably the weirdest day I've ever had," Sammy whispered in Tex's ear.
      "I'm here to protect you, Ma'am," Tex replied.
      "Okay, then, big guy, protect me! Please take care of this Brown Bart thing standing in front of us before it does something!"
      "My name is Tex," Tex said.
      "Hold on! Stop this nonsense! You're doing it all wrong!" a huge voice boomed from out of nowhere, and all three of them jumped up a little from the shock. Sammy looked all around, but she didn't see anyone at all along the dusty street. Suddenly she felt the earth start to shiver and shake beneath her feet, and jumped out of the way just in time to see a giant rat creature burrow out of the ground. It was white and had on a short plaid jacket with matching tie. "Brown Bart, Tex, you two need to swi tch places, and please, Tex, stand on your head like you're supposed to!"
      "Excuse me, Sir," Sammy interrupted. (She didn't want to be rude by calling the creature a rat, if that wasn't its given name.) "But perhaps you could tell me what is going on around here?"
      The rat creature was busy adjusting Tex's body, contorting it into impossible angles and bends, until Tex looked just like a giant pretzel. So Sammy asked again, "Sir, just what is going on around here? Where am I?"
      "The name is Marcello Molenio, little girl, and I am the one who is in charge here!" the little mole shouted at her while throwing mounds of dirt on Tex's head. "I ask the questions, not you! Not you!" He then ran over to the tumbleweed and started rip ping pieces of it out. "You must be thinner! You must be thinner! Not so fat!"
      "Well, Mister Molenio, a squirrel by the name of Quincy took my favorite video camera a while ago, and I was wondering if you knew him or had heard of him."
      "I know everyone around here, and everyone likes me. Everyone likes me," Molenio repeated while standing on top of Brown Bart, who was groaning quite a lot for a ball of weeds. "That's because I'm a knowable and likable person."
      This didn't fly with Sammy at all. "I can't see how people could like you, if you're always going around tying them in knots and standing on them!"
      "Nonsense! Everyone loves it! Everyone loves it. And besides, that's what you're all paid to do." The mole then produced a big steaming pot of spaghetti and started throwing it around every which way: on Tex, on Brown Bart, and some even got on Sammy herself. It was quite hot, and she jumped as a bit of it got on her arm and face. Sammy was very perturbed by this point. (She certainly loves those big words, doesn't she?)
      "Now look here, Mister! I don't think that's necessary, getting spaghetti all over everyone and everything!"
      The mole thought for a few moments, and then replied, "Well, how else am I to make it a spaghetti Western? How else, huh?" Before she could answer him (that is, if she was even able to give him an answer, and she wasn't going to answer that ridiculous q uestion anyway), he shouted, "Little girl, you don't know anything about anything! Now we have to take care of you!" Molenio jumped up off the tumbleweed and started toward Sammy, cracking what must have been his knuckles as he came. "Oh, yes, there is a lot that we need to take care of on your account!"
      Sammy didn't like the sound of that, so she turned tail and ran towards one of the buildings. She ran up to the front door, opened it up, ran through to the other side and closed it before Marcello Molenio could get to it. "What a day, what a day!" she cried out. "I hate this place and I want my camera back!"

*   *   *
      As Sammy looked around her new surroundings, she saw a wall as far as she could see from her left to her right, with the occasional wood plank or metal girder holding it up. "Strange," she said to herself. "So there were no real buildings back there, on ly fronts. Oh my, what a horrible pun," she said, wincing to herself.
      All around Sammy was a vast space, filled with a great bustling crowd of all sorts of creatures: humans, animals, birds, plants, and some too difficult to describe. Many of them were holding strange and varied objects that resembled anything from clipbo ards to lamp-posts. "What an odd group!" Sammy exclaimed. "Maybe Quincy Squirrel is in this crowd. I'm sure he would blend in right at home with my video camera. Well, I guess it doesn't hurt to have a look-see! But where shall I start first?"
      As she stood there pondering this question, she was suddenly swept up into the swarm and started bouncing from one creature to the next. The noise of the crowd became unbearable and Sammy covered her ears with her hands. Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw Quincy, the talking squirrel. She tried to break through the crowd in the direction he was in, but it was very slow going. But still, it seemed like she was getting nearer and nearer to his shape as she wrestled her way through the crow d.
      After what seemed like an eternity of crawling over, under, around and through the mass of creatures, she finally got close enough to the squirrel that she could yell his name. "Quincy!" Sammy shouted at him, "I believe you have my video camera!" But th e squirrel didn't reply, so finally Sammy reached out and grabbed it by the shoulder, quickly turning it around.
      As she did so, all the creatures surrounding Sammy suddenly vanished, and the formerly big room filled with people and animals seemed to turn into the small, three-walled room that Sammy started out her adventure in. The amorphous void was also there aga in. But this time, the room seemed to be a lot smaller, and the void a lot bigger.
      "Where's my camera, Quincy?" Sammy shouted out. "I've been looking all over this crazy, mixed-up place for it, and for you. I'm very tired and I need to get back home soon."
      "Well, I hope you've learned your lesson to-day," a large hollow voice said from behind the void.
      "What lesson?" Sammy replied. "I don't recall any particular lesson that I've been given over the course of the day's events! Now can I please have my video camera back?"
      "Is it as fun to be watched as it is to do the watching?"
      "Well, I guess not. It can be quite scary at times, I think!"
      "That's all I wanted to know. You can go home now, Sammy."
      "But I don't want to go home! I want my camera!" Sammy was very angry at this point, which was very weird, since she was only angry at a huge blob that just said a few words. But everything was weird to-day, as you have probably guessed by now. But Sa mmy was so angry that she rushed headlong into the void, and again everything went black.
*   *   *
      "We can go home now, Sammy. We can go home."
      Sammy opened her eyes and what do you think she saw? Wouldn't you know it was her father looking down at her. She was lying on the ground right by the tree that Quincy the squirrel ran down, and it was already dark outside.
      "What happened, Father?" Sammy asked.
      "Sammy, your mother and I were very worried when you didn't come home right after school. So I came looking for you on your usual route back home, and found you lying on the ground here! It appears from the bump on your head that you ran into this tree with your video camera."
      "Tell me, Father: is it broken? Is my camera broken?"
      "I'm sorry, Sammy, but your camera is in fact broken. But you should remember that it's almost Christmas-time, and perhaps if you ask Santa Claus nicely for a new camera, you will get one."
      Now let me ask you one last question, dear reader:
      Do you think she asked for one?