The Legendary Mystery of Exploding Andy by Chris Leavens

‘Twas a brown, mid-drought day in August. Andy, last of the exploding Smith brothers, stared down the mighty mountain trail that lied ahead of him. A slight gust kicked some dust onto Andy’s shoes. “This hill certainly looks to be a bastard,” Andy’s mind told him as he scouted the zone. “Best not move too fast or I’ll explode.” And he would, you see, because that’s what vortexical people do. I may be getting a little ahead of myself.

Are you wondering to yourself, “just what is a vortexical person?” I’d guess you probably are. First you must understand what a vortex is. They’re a specific brand of magnetic/gravitational anomaly which are thought to compact the molecular structure of anything inside of them. Or at least that’s what Einstein said. With that out of the way, a vortexical person is someone who produces a vortex. Only thing is, the vortex can’t move as fast as they can, so if they outrun their vortex, they run the risk of rapid molecular expansion and explosion. Hence, most remain slow and physically inactive.

This made Andy a fat, fat man.

Andy panted as he slowly plodded down the path. He was on his way to see his only remaining brother, the non-vortexical Lee, a park ranger at the Rogue River National Park just north of Medford, Oregon.

Distress rippled down Andy’s blubbery furrowed brow. The heat, lack of fried pastries, and grievance had taken their toll on him. You see, Andy’s two vortexical brothers, Ned and Rex, had just been “taken from us” by a game of tag gone awry. They were still young, spry, and careless. They were, that is, until they ran and exploded. Ned ran first. He sprinted and he looked so tall outside of his vortex, his molecules spacing out, pushing him toward six feet high – tall for a ten year old. Rex chased him, his eleven year old, four foot tall body expanding to nearly seven feet. “I should have been watching the boys,” Andy thought as he replayed the scene in his chubby head. Alas, he chose instead to gobble up a light, fluffy Twinkie and, as the chemical laden cream exploded in his mouth, Ned and Rex exploded in the back yard, leaving behind tall chunks of previously compact children.

“Oh, I hope Lee doesn’t get too miffed about losing more brothers.” There were previously eight Smith boys, all vortexical except for Lee and Francis. Francis had been stolen by a gang of Scientologists who converted him using personality tests diguised as Nintendo games. He roamed the Midwestern United States with the nomadic Travoltarian sect and therefore was considered dead.

Andy closed in on the ranger station his brother worked in. Exhaustion slowed his already sluggish walk. “Lee,” he gasped, “Lee, quick. Trouble.”

“You ain’t gettin’ no more uh my money fer doughnuts, tubby,” Lee spat tobacco onto the loose, dirty trail, “An’ you best be callin’ me by my preferred name ‘stead uh my Christian name er I’ll be makin’ that belly uh yers mighty pank.”

“Iron Ranger,” Lee complied, “Ned and Rex, they ran and-”

Lee’s jaw dropped. He stared at Andy. Simultaneously, the brothers began to cry. “Come here, Iron Ranger.” Lee stepped into Andy’s vortex and shrank. They held each other. Each other was all they had. Well, Lee had a 1992 Ford Escort, but that doesn’t really count. “We’re all that’s left, Iron Ranger,” Andy said. Lee’s wet eyes flared. He grabbed Andy, threw him into the back seat of the Escort, and sped off.

At first, the Escort shrank, but only for a moment was it Lilliputian. For that moment, the brothers talked. “Why are you doing this?” Andy shouted.

“Because we’re all that’s left an’ we need to explode.”

“Why?”

“We don’t want to die in boring ways, do we? I mean, this story is a legend, after all.”

“Oh, well what about the mysterious part?”

“You’ll continuously regenerate from your own blown-up body and roam the wilderness, sobbing, eating lots of preservative-packed foods, and re-exploding for all of eternity.”

“That doesn’t sound like a lot of fun.”

"Such is the life of a legend, chubs.”

And with that, the Escort grew to its normal size and Lee and Andy exploded, leaving a behind a pile of cheap American auto parts and esoteric folk-lore that would dissipate with time.