Michael T. Hare

Short Story: Farms, Planes, and Revenge

Dustin didn’t live in a city. Nobody in Bluesky County did. Why is that? Because Bluesky County was a little town with a little heart that was bigger on the inside. Every day was happy in Bluesky County except for the days when nobody was happy—Bluesky was a very three-dimensional town when it came to emotional stability and didn’t hold any sort of stereotypes except for Billy, a no-grammar redneck hick who ate Slim Jims for breakfast, lunch, and breakfast. His wife doesn’t know the lyrics to any song and couldn’t sing if her life depended on it. That’s why Billy married her.

But this story is about Dustin. Dustin’s last name was Crops. Dustin often wondered about his ancestors. Somebody was to blame for the surnames of both his parents. Or perhaps it was his parents’ fault… though his father’s name was Wiltin, so perhaps it was the dirty work of Grandfather Mowen. Dustin was twenty-three, if that wasn’t clear, and he was done being defined by his name. That is why he stood in the kitchen, facing his mother and father with the most determined of looks.

“Dad, I know this farm is your dream, but it’s not mine. I want to graduate from the farm and become a pilot.” Morning wind blew in from the open windows of Wilton Farmhouse, which framed the wide blue sky of Bluesky County. See what the founder of Bluesky County did there? Cow dung also drifted in. Dustin liked the smell. Not a lot of people did, but to farmers, cow dung smells as good as cookies you would never eat.

Wilton Crops gave a soft ‘hm.’ “Son,” Wilton kneeled down before his son. Dustin was still standing. He was confused why his father was talking to his knee. Suddenly, Wilton stood tall and laughed. “Sorry! I forgot you aren’t a baby anymore. Son…” he sighed, long and hard, “this isn’t Elemental. You’ll never be a pilot. Go muck the stalls.”

Dustin hung his head and went outside to muck the stalls. He turned on Thank God She’s a Country Girl by Austin Brown and started working. Wilton walked into the stalls and told Dustin he’d changed his mind and wanted him to drive to the gas station and grab gas for the lawn mower. Dustin nodded and set off to do that.

Dustin was a respectful boy. He might not have enjoyed running the farm, but he’d be the last person to leave his parents to work it alone—that didn’t mean he’d never do that. It simply meant he’d be the last to do that. Dustin had plans and those plans involved being a pilot. He saw a plane pass serendipitously over his head and frowned, picturing it getting chopped by one of the windmills hemming in Bluesky County. He smiled and kept driving down the road.

A sudden explosion came from the left. He looked over and saw the plane on fire, spinning in a wide arc, impaled by the blade of a windmill. Dustin screamed and swerved off the road. He ran to the windmill and looked up. The plane was spinning and spinning and spinning. There was someone in the cockpit. She didn’t look happy. Then again… who would look happy if their plane had just been impaled on a windmill? Nobody—that’s who. Dustin remembered a time when Nobody wanted to go on the flying roller coaster, and he had to go with him because Nobody wanted to.

“You have to jump!” screamed Dustin.

“No!” the pilot yelled back. Her voice got quieter whenever she went up and louder when she came down. Dustin thought it was kinda funny. He laughed, then he laughed harder, then he laughed so loud he might as well have been yelling like someone was making him drink lava. Then suddenly, the pilot was flung from the plane as the windmill went up. She flew and flew and flew and flew. Dustin was so scared he just stared until the pilot pulled out her parachute. Dustin cheered for her like it was the Fourth of July. But she didn’t look happy when she walked up to him. “Why were you laughing instead of helping!? I needed help!”

“Last I checked, random girl, I didn’t have flying powers, and I check every morning! What’s your name anyway?”

The random girl—who turned out not to be a random girl because she had a name—was named Opinda Aer. Opinda had graduated from helping her dad build houses and now she flew planes. Dustin found that inspiring. “I wish my dad would let me leave the farm,” said Dustin. “I hate being a farmer. All I ever do is work. Why do you get to fly planes?” Dustin burst into tears. Opinda didn’t comfort him because he was still a random guy to her. Dustin realized that and stood up. “I’m Dustin, by the way,” he said in a plain voice, then broke down into sobs again. She still didn’t comfort him, so he told her his last name, and when that still didn’t work, Dustin gave up and headed back to his car. Suddenly, the windmill picked him up by his shirt. How the windmill suddenly got so long was a mystery to him, but what wasn’t a mystery to him was that he hadn’t brought a parachute like Opinda had.

Dustin screamed as he was flung into the air. He yelled and yelled and yelled and yelled… then he took a deep breath… and yelled and yelled and yelled and yelled… then he took another deep breath… and yelled and yelled and yelled and yelled… then he took another deep breath but accidentally inhaled a house sparrow. He found it ironic as he coughed because now he was the house for the sparrow since he swallowed it. He coughed out the sparrow, cleared his throat, and then yelled and yelled and yelled until Opinda soared over with her jet and saved him. Dustin smashed onto the wing and held on for dear life. It should’ve hurt, but it didn’t. It actually felt great.

“How did you repair this so fast!?” He yelled through the wind and her cockpit and the roaring sound of the engines that made everything impossible to hear unless you wore a soundproof headset. 

Opinda smiled. “My father built houses, remember!? I’m really good at building stuff!”

Dustin smiled too and realized he was still holding the house sparrow. He decided to name him Ekwigetflurg because he didn’t feel like coming up with an actual name. Opinda soon landed the plane and Dustin felt so alive. He also felt like someone had stuffed him into a hair dryer and turned it up to eleven. Dustin laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed until it was nighttime. Opinda just kinda stood there until he was done.

When he was done, Opinda laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed until morning time. Dustin realized she was exactly like him. Opinda flew away and Dustin went back to the farm. He wished he could build houses so he could build himself a plane. Then an idea hit him. After getting an icepack and holding it to the place where the idea hit him, he headed over to Opinda’s dad’s house. Opinda’s dad didn’t live in a house. He lived in the houses he built and sold because he built houses. Opinda’s dad looked over at Dustin and beckoned him close. “Look at this measurement,” he said. Dustin looked at it. Opinda’s dad sighed. “Something isn’t right about it.”

Dustin said ‘hmmmmmmmmmm,’ for so long that Opinda’s dad had an extra wrinkle by the time he was done. “It’s missing an inch!”

Opinda’s dad laughed. “I was testing you, lass.” He said lass because he thought Dustin was Opinda and he had an Irish accent.

Dustin shook his head and told Opinda’s dad the truth. Opinda’s dad didn’t believe him until he saw Dustin’s face. Then Opinda’s dad thought Dustin was his son even though he didn’t have one.  Dustin asked what Opinda’s dad’s name was. Opinda’s dad smiled. “My name is Dairy. Dairy Aer. Good to meet you, young lad. Cometh you from Ireland or Portsmouth?”

“Neither.”

Dairy cocked his head. “Then why be you here?”

“I want to build houses so I can build planes.”

“Right smart laddie, you are!”

“My dad never says that about me.”

Dairy taught Dustin how to be a house-builder, and soon, Dustin was building tons of planes for all kinda of farmers who wanted to escape their dreary lives. He took pride in what he did for two years until his dad found out. “SON!” he cried. “WHAT IS ALL THIS!? HOW DARE YOU BUILD PLANES INSTEAD OF FARM LAND!”

Dustin stood proud. “Well, I’m not your son anymore. I’m nobody’s son! I’m my own son, actually!”

Wilton was horrified. “Who has done this to you!?”

“Dairy Aer! He taught me what it really means to be a devoted man!”

So Wilton killed Dairy with a shovel. Dustin gasped and attacked his father. They got on a plane and flew into the sky so they could fight really high in the air. Wilton punched Dustin. Dustin punched Wilton. Wilton punched Dustin. Dustin punched Wilton. Wilton punched Dustin. Dustin punched Wilton. Wilton punched Dustin. Dustin punched Wilton. Wilton punched Dustin REALLY hard, and Dustin almost lost his balance. Dustin kept it, though. He saw something in the distance and smiled. “You messed with the wrong people, Dad.”

Suddenly, Opinda swerved and hit Wilton in the face with the wing of her plane. Wilton flew into the air but came down and stuck the ending. He screamed so loud that Dustin went deaf in one ear and was hurled off the plane. Dustin fell and fell and fell and fell, but he managed to grab the plane’s feet and hang off. He was swinging back and forth and he felt seasick if the sea was in the sky. Dustin tried to get the pilot’s attention but the pilot didn’t do anything because there was no pilot. Dustin realized how to beat his dad. He climbed into the cockpit and manned the controls. He smiled at Opinda as she flew alongside him and then pushed the plane’s brakes. Wilton—Dustin’s dad—flew off the top of the plane and fell and fell and fell and fell until he landed in a giant dust explosion on the ground. Dustin laughed and said a code through the microphone: “My dad fell off the plane and died.”

Everyone cheered—and by everyone, I mean just Dustin and Opinda—and they flew home. Dustin and Opinda smiled until it was time to bury Dairy. Dustin sighed. What Wilton did to Dairy was a low blow, almost as low as Dairy had to be buried.

Opinda and Dustin wanted to honor Dairy in some way. He was like a father to both of them, although Dustin didn’t feel too sad about it. He hadn’t known him for long enough to mourn his death. It took a good five years of knowing someone before Dustin could mourn for them. That’s why he didn’t feel sad when his dog died. He’d only known him for four years and three hundred and sixty-four days. He ALMOST felt sad, though. ALMOST.

Opinda and Dustin got married. Dustin was feeling pretty good about his life. He had one son he named Eatin. Eatin looked just like Dustin if Dustin didn’t look anything like himself. On the other hand, he resembled Opinda entirely. Sometimes Dustin thought he was her, but then he remembered that Opinda would never cut her hair or shrink. It was still a little creepy sometimes. Eatin could’ve been Opinda’s twin if twins could be born twenty-nine years apart.

“Hey, Dad!” Eatin yelled from the top of a tractor. “Would it be alright if I…” Eatin’s voice phased out as Dustin started thinking. His son was twenty-five now, as old as Dustin was when Dairy had died. Dustin was kinda nervous. What if he betrayed his son too? Dustin realized he’d been thinking over his son’s question. Eatin stared blankly at his father. “Were you even listening to me? Or were you just thinking about something stupid like you always do?”

Dustin didn’t want to answer honestly, so he pretended that he had heard him. “What are you talking about? It’s a great idea!” Eatin’s face lit up, and he drove the tractor full speed into the house. A giant bang rattled the farm. Wood splinters went everywhere. Dustin recoiled in horror. Even if he HAD heard his son, who in their right mind asked permission to do something like that!? Eatin drove back out and hopped out of the tractor.

“Thanks, Dad!”

Dustin’s mouth dropped open a second time. It had already dropped open once. “WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? YOUR MOM IS IN THERE!”

Eatin looked alarmed and glanced back at the house.

Dustin was furious. What kind of jerk raised this kid!? “I’m going to check on her. You stay here!”

“But I wanna come!”

“Stay here or I’ll tie you to the same windmill I met your mother on!”

Eatin stayed.

Dustin found Opinda in a pile of rubble. He helped her up. “What happened?” she asked.

Dustin didn’t want to answer that question honestly either. “Eatin rammed the truck into the house! He told me he was trying to kill you!”

Fury engulfed Opinda’s face. “Well, then, we’d better get some payback. Get my jet!”

Dustin liked where this was going. Killing Eatin would get rid of the evidence that he hadn’t been paying attention to his son’s question, and he wouldn’t have to own up to his simple mistake. Dustin smiled and grabbed his laser gun. He wasn’t sure what Opinda was gonna do with her jet, but he could easily vaporize Eatin. “You have reduced our house to splinters for the last time, Eatin Crops…,” he said to Eatin but mostly himself.

The sound of Opinda’s plane zipping through the air caught Dustin’s attention. He loved the sound of it. His lovely wife was flying through the air to kill their son. She was so tough and daring—it’s why he fell in love with her.

Eatin stood in the middle of the farm, watching his mom soar around in circles. He looked… calm. Dustin brushed off the suspicion and charged forward, shooting lasers at his son. Eatin dodged them and held up a tall silver pole. Dustin was confused until a lightning bolt struck its tip and traveled down the steel. Before it could reach Eatin’s hand, he ran and hurled the pole into the sky. It impaled itself in the tail of Opinda’s plane. Dustin covered his eyes as a bright flash boomed across the sky, and Opinda’s plane came down as charred as Thanksgiving dinner. Opinda thankfully had a parachute. But there was still a lightning storm out. Dustin ran and caught his wife as she floated down, but when he looked for Eatin, he was nowhere to be seen.

“Curse that forsaken child!” he yelled. “How are we supposed to get payback if he’s gone!?”

Opinda crossed her arms in thought. “He’s just like your father. Stubborn. We need to kill him before he causes more trouble.”

Dustin smiled. “Agreed.”

They hugged.

Eatin walked for miles and miles. The rain made it look like he was sweating, but he wasn’t sweating. He wasn’t even hot, so if he was sweating, that wouldn’t make any sense. First came the crash of thunder and then the flash of lightning. I mean… first came the flash of lightning and THEN the crash of thunder. A hand reached out and clamped down on Eatin’s shoulder. He was in the forest. Who else was here with him? “Hello, there,” a grandpa-like voice said.

Eatin turned. “WHO ARE YOU!?”

The grandpa-like guy let out a grandpa-like laugh. “I’m your great uncle,” he said in a way that wasn’t very grandpa-ish now that Eatin thought about it. “Follow me into the woods. My cabin’s in a graveyard. We put it there so people would think we were dead and not come in. Can you hold my knife for me?” He plopped a giant knife into Eatin’s hand. It was heavy and covered in cherry juice. Eatin gulped. Was it cherry juice? Or was it something far worse, like blueberry juice or… Eatin gulped… cranberry juice? Ugh. Eatin REALLY hoped it wasn’t cranberry juice. That meant his great uncle ate cranberries and might share some with him.

“I didn’t know I had a great uncle,” Eatin said. “What’s your name?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Me.”

“Oh. In THAT case, the name’s Chooin. Chooin Crops.”

“Oh. My name’s Eatin Crops.”

“Haha!” Chooin laughed. “Now THAT’S a name I’ll never forget.”

“Why?” asked Eatin.

“My wife’s sister’s godson’s name is Bruce, and he has a dog whose toy is named Kenny. The company that makes the toy is called YellowProducts, and the owner’s son’s name is also Eatin! Reminds me of it.”

Eatin didn’t think that was very funny, but he went along with it. The graveyard came into view soon. But that’s when he noticed something very strange. Each headstone had the last name CROPS etched on the top. Eatin gulped. He imagined HIS name on one of the headstones. ‘Here lies Eatin Crops, Whose Dead Body Fertilized ACTUAL Crops.’ Another horrifying thought struck Eatin like a lightning bolt; if you swapped the ‘O’ and the ‘R’ in the surname ‘Crops’ and added an ‘E’ at the end, you got the word corpse. Eatin gulped and tried not to think about that as Chooin led Eatin into his cabin. Inside, there were elk heads, deer heads, and farm portraits lit by a tender fire. It was a country house. Wow… so the country living ran in the family.

“Where’s your wife?” Eatin asked.

“Huh?” Chooin asked, taking off his coat and hanging it up.

“You said you had a wife. Where is she?”

“Oh, yeah, she’s outside…” Chooin paused and glanced at Eatin. “In the yard.”

Eatin gulped. That made him more scared than the cranberry juice.

“Want some cranberries?” Chooin asked. “I chop them myself—”

“ENOUGH!” boomed a voice.

It came from the leather rocking chair in the room. It spun around. Eatin recognized him. From family pictures. Wilton Crops. His grandfather. “Hello, Eatin Crops. I’m guessing your father doesn’t know you’re here?”

“He tried to kill me.”

“Typical Dustin. Entitled to everything. Even his stupid wife is like that. Entitled. It’s as if everyone with the last name Crops ends up a loser and a jerk.”

“Aren’t you a Crops?”

“No. I changed my last name to Grogu.”

“Whoa.”

“Yep. I’m Wilton Grogu now, and I am about to destroy your parents…”

Eatin sighed with relief.

“… for good,” Wilton finished.

Eatin gasped. “FOR GOOD!? No, I won’t let you! Those are my parents whether I like it or not, and frankly, I don’t, but they’re still my parents and I won’t let you destroy them!”

“Think of it, Eatin. We could have revenge together. I can see from your presence here that you’ve been betrayed. Much like I was. Trust me when I say I’m nothing like your father, grandson. We could take revenge on him together. Get the payback we both deserve. I could be your new father. I’ll teach you to ride a bike and everything!”

Riding a bike did sound kinda cool.

“Fine. I’ll do it, so long as you explain all those graves out there. Are you planning to kill me or something? Add me to your collection of dead Crops?”

Wilton shook his head. “Certainly not! This is the Crops graveyard. It’s been used since the very first Crop. I shall go there soon, once I get too old. It should be any day now, actually. That’s why I want my revenge quickly. I can’t die before I have it.”

The door to the house suddenly opened, and an old woman strode inside. “A visitor!?” she exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell me!?”

“I didn’t want to disturb your work, darling,” Chooin said. “I know how much you love gardening.”

“How true,” the woman mused. “Good to meet you, Eatin Crops. My name is Om Crops, but my maiden name used to be Let.

Eatin found it weird that she said her maiden name ‘used to be’ Let, because her maiden name would always be the same. Using the word ‘used to’ implied her maiden name had changed once before. By the time Eatin was done judging her grammatical knowledge, he’d missed whatever she said next as she headed back outside. Chooin shook his head and laughed. “Always gardening, that one. I once tried to help her and she hit me over the head with her rake.”

Eatin’s eyes widened. “Seriously!?”

Chooin laughed. “Just joking, kiddo. It was a shovel.”

“ENOUGH!” Wilton bellowed again. “Do we have a deal or not, Eatin? If you say no, I’ll have Om hit you over the head with a shovel. If you say yes, you can have dinner here tonight and sleep in the loft up there.”

Eatin thought for a long time. Yikes. This was a hard decision. “Can I think it over?”

Wilton shook his head. “Shovel or pillow. Which is it gonna be?”

Eatin groaned. WHY WAS EVERYTHING SO HARD TODAY!? “Fine. I’ll do it. Besides, I wanted revenge on my dad anyway.” He realized the decision was never really that difficult. He was just making it difficult. Perhaps that’s what difficulty truly was. A decision rather than a sickness. It is our choice. Life should not happen to us, we should happen to life—

Wilton interrupted Eatin’s brain mentor by yelling at him to go to his room. Eatin nodded. He was actually kinda glad he was getting some sleep. You know, that’s one thing the world never prepares you for. Suddenly, you turn twenty-three, and nobody bothers to prepare you for how exhausting it is to be nearly killed by your parents. Eatin made a mental note to Google some tips on prioritizing health in rough times such as these.

If Eatin lived in an alternate dimension where seven hours were super fast, Eatin would’ve fallen asleep super fast. In other words, Eatin slept like a baby that night—tossing and turning, yelling, and doing anything except sleeping. He wasn’t sure why he decided to yell at random intervals. Oh, right, it was because he was trying to figure out a riddle, and every time he got it wrong, he would yell really loud. One time, Wilton came up to the loft and yelled back at Eatin. Eatin put up a fight and they just sat there yelling in each other’s faces until they were tired of doing that. Wilton said he was proud and that Eatin was growing up to be a fine Grogu. Grogu. Wilton had been mentioning that he wanted to change Eatin’s last name too. How cool would that be!?

Chooin woke Eatin up with eggs and bacon, which he accidentally spilled on Eatin’s face. He’d made the eggs runny so they splattered all over Eatin’s face. Eatin got out of bed immediately. “You spilled my breakfast!” he cried.

“Wow, I didn’t realize, you stupid moron,” Chooin said to his nephew.

“You’re so mean! What is wrong with you!?”

Wilton called up from the living room. “He hasn’t had his coffee and hot sauce yet. Chooin’s a jerk without his coffee and hot sauce.”

As if to confirm Wilton’s statement, Chooin grabbed Eatin by the collar of his shirt and tossed him out the window. Eatin crashed into a garden. He heard a woman shriek. It was Om. Om looked at him with fury. “I’VE BEEN RAKING THESE LEAVES ALL NIGHT!!!!!”

Eatin got up and ran away before she hit him in the head with a shovel. Too late. Solid metal PONGed into the back of Eatin’s head. Eatin fell forward and smashed into the dirt. He spun around as Om stomped up to him. “That is MY garden. You got that!? I’ll use this shovel to hit you four more times and then dig you a comfy six-foot deep hole. Do you understand me!? Huh!? Are you stupid and a loser!? SAY SOMETHING!”

“Sorry.”

“Sorry’s not good enough!”

“Uh… super… sorry?”

Om lost it. But then she went to find it. Eatin breathed a sigh of relief as she ran off. He hoped she never found it. That way, she’d never come back to bury him alive… assuming he’d be alive after getting hit with the same shovel four times. Eatin rubbed the back of his head.

Four more times, he reminded himself.

Eatin didn’t like Om. He found her socially awkward… and kinda scary too. He glanced around the Crops Family headstones surrounding the cabin. He wondered how many of them had accidentally interfered with Om’s precious garden work. He also wondered how many of them contributed to the rich flora. He had to hand it to his ancestors—they had some good nutrients. Just look at those tomatoes! Ripe, red, and ready to eat.

Eatin sighed and headed back where Wilton was. He was making breakfast inside. Chooin sat at the table drinking coffee, a bottle of hot sauce beside the steaming mug. Eatin didn’t know how much he’d drunk, so he stayed a good distance from his great uncle. Wilton gestured for Eatin to sit at the barstool in front of the counter. Eatin found it weird that it was called a barstool even though they weren’t in a bar, unless there was such a thing as a bar that served egg, sausage, and bacon-shaped alcohol that somehow was solid but also liquid….

“I reckon you’re excited to have some revenge,” Wilton said as Eatin seated himself. “I am too. Right after breakfast, we’re going to destroy Dustin and Opinda and have ourselves revenge. It’s best served hot, you know.”

“Why is that?”

“Because we’re going to awaken the Great Lava Beast of the North.” Wilton served Eatin up with a new plate of breakfast—thankfully, he didn’t spill it on him like Chooin did. He lives in a nearby hot spring about four hundred miles away. We find him. We find revenge. What do you say? Wanna come with me on a little road trip?”

“Yes!” Eatin shouted enthusiastically. “If you’re gonna be my new dad, we’d better have some fun before you die of old age!”

Wilton and Eatin knew that great trials lay ahead of them, but they were ready to take them on. For revenge, this dynamic duo of old and young would do anything, even brave the vast lands beyond Bluesky County and awaken the most terrifying creature to ever exist. Could Wilton and Eatin do it? Or would Opinda and Dustin find them and enact their sinister plot to foil Wilton and Eatin’s sinister plot? Eatin smiled as Wilton put the car into gear and peeled out of the driveway, heading south toward the Great Lava Beast of the North. Wilton turned on Thank God She’s a Country Girl by Austin Brown and rolled down the windows.

“Now, this is country living,” said Eatin.

THE END.