Sam was frozen. He heard the boy screaming, but he couldn't move. Something, he never realized what, gave him the energy to go over to the screaming boy and pick him up. He tried to comfort the boy, but he was frightened for some reason and kept screaming. Sam looked down at the boy's barefoot which stuck out of a pair of ragged blue jeans. The boy had been stung by a bee all right. But no matter how hard Sam tried he couldn't remember what to do about a bee sting.
Sam spun around as he heard the Door. As he watched Al walk out of the light, punching the handlink, Sam ran his hand through the boy's hair. Suddenly the boy stopped screaming. Instead his mouth curved into a grin at the sight of this man wearing the wackiest clothes the young six-year old had ever seen. The boy pointed towards Al, and laughed.
"What? What's so funny?" asked Al, nervously. "Uh, Sam, can you um...."
"Al, I think this kid is my son. And I'm his fa--mother." replied Sam.
"Yes, you are. You are Beverly Jenkins, and Sam, y'know you look very good in pink," said Al, as usual getting off track.
Sam gave him a look. "Yeh, yeh, but what am I here for?"
"We don't know," replied Al. "But..."
"Why are you here then?" asked Sam.
The small child looked up at Al, "Yweah why are woo heah?"
Sam grinned.
Al shook his head. "Look do you want to know who you are or not?"
Sam chuckled, "Sure, but let's go ugh, where do I go, Al? There's tons of stores over there."
"Now you'll listen? Okay go into that florist's shop. The key should be...." Al punched a few keys on the handlink. "In your um purse..." The end of his sentence was a snicker.
"Oh shut up Al!" replied Sam.
"Woo are you?" asked the small child.
"He's Peter Johnson. You adopted him, or Beverly adopted him after his mother and father died in a train crash in 1957. It's been three years since then. He thinks of you, er Bev as his mother. The poor child doesn't remember his actual parents," said Al as he floated along with Sam to the flower shop.
"Okay then it's 1960?" asked Sam.
"Yeh, May 15th 1960," replied Al. But something made him seem not paying attention to what he was reading off the handlink. His mind was wandering into his own past.
"Al?" asked Sam. "Um, can Peter see me as me?"
"Uuhhh, why you saying that?" asked Al.
"Because, he asked 'Woo are you?' to me and....well?" replied Sam.
"Yes, because, he's six. Today was his six birthday. How bout that?" replied Al.
"Okay, why am I here?" asked Sam.
"I told you. We don't know yet Sam," replied Al.
"Well find out!" replied Sam.
"Woo are you?" repeated the child.
"Well.. I uh... Oh boy this is a hard one...", stammered Sam.
"Well, we're yer guardian angels, kid!", Al piped up.
"But... I don bewieve in dem!" Peter said.
"You don't...", Al said in disbelief. He thought all kids believed in angels.
"Well, then we're you're friendly neighborhood ghosts!", Sam said.
"HEY! Now wait a minute Sam! I am NOT a spook!", Al objected. "You're gonna freak the poor..."
But Peter was laughing hysterically at the thought of the two ghosts, one in a funny outfit, the other pretending to be Mommy... What a birthday this was turning out to be!
"Well, I guess that solves YOU'RE problem... Oops I meant HIS... AL!", Sam said, a big grin across his face.
Al looked around a bit dismayed but followed Sam as he opened the door to the shop and laid Peter down on a couch. Al instructed Sam to arrange several bouquets according to a pile of orders set for that day. The six year old slept through most of the afternoon and quietly watched his new-found "ghost" friends as they busied themselves at Mommy's work.
"Awen't you gonna lemme play wis a rose?", the boy piqued up.
"Wah... uh... Al?", Sam asked the hologram.
Al was staring just a little to the right of the kid with a dreamy, almost fatherly look. "Uh... Yeah whatever he wants Sam." Al said absentmindedly.
"Hey what's gotten into you?" Sam asked, concerned.
"NOTHING!", snapped Al, opening the Door and disappearing through it.
"Weird" thought Sam, but he didn't think much of it and busied himself once again with the flower arrangements.
Throughout the day many people had come to get their orders. Sam, having little experience with this type of work was often belittled. It appeared Beverly's reputation as a florist and floral arranger was unparalleled.
"Oh boy. I'm messing up her reputation!" Sam muttered to himself.
"What, Mistew ghost?" asked Peter as he pretended to drive across the floor in a cardboard box, as though it were a car.
"Uh, call me Sam, but don't when other people are here, call me Mommy. See, for awhile, I have to pretend to be your mommy. Understand?" replied Sam, as soon as the customer left.
"Sure, mommy," replied Peter, giggling. Because to him it was the funniest thing in the world. A guy in a dress. Who was he anyway?
Sam grinned. "Okay, so, since it's your birthday and we get off at....uuuh..."
"4," said a voice, which Sam recognized as Al’s.
"Yeh, 4, then where you wanna go, Peter?" asked Sam, not paying attention to the flower pot he was lifting.
"The park," replied Peter.
"Mrs. Jenkins!" cried a shrill voice.
Sam was so shocked by this that he jumped, tossing the flower pot in the air and causing the dirt to fly all over the orders. The actual plant landed lopsided on a watering can, which tipped over and dumped through Al and onto the floor.
"Smooth move," said Al, trying to keep from laughing.
Peter, however, was already engaged in hysterical laughter.
The lady who carried a fancy purse and had a snobby face, was not laughing. "And just what do you think you are doing?"
"Uh, Sam, this is Mrs. Vanderwash, er Vandergraff, no Vanderwish....uuugh Vanderwinkle?" Al slapped the handlink. "Vanderwink? Vandagraff generator? Ziggy! Stop it!" Al smacked the handlink and it squealed. "Vanderwashy? Wait....no Vanderwash. No Y."
"Well, Mrs. Vandergrim, er wash, wish, wacko?" stumbled Sam.
"Oh brother...." replied Al.
"Well, you didn't help much!" snapped Sam, forgetting about Mrs. Vanderwash.
"Excuse me????!?!?!?" cried Mrs. Vanderwash.
"Ugh, I was talkin to myself. I should've been more careful," replied Sam.
Mrs. Vanderwash looked at Sam. "Hmm, I guess so. Now do you happen to have this month's rent?"
"Rent? Uh," began Sam. "Well, how much do I owe ya?"
"Don't you even dare use that awful language with me!" snapped Mrs. Vanderwash.
"What?" asked Sam.
"You know exactly what! That horrible slang! Now, you owe me one hundred dollars in rent. And if you do not pay it, it's out on the street for the both of you!" cried Mrs. Vanderwash.
"What???" cried Peter, Sam, and Al.
"You heard me!" she cried, storming over to the cash register.
"Hey, Misses..........." started Sam, jumping down from the ladder in which he had stood.
"Eagh!" cried Mrs. V. in disgust. "What a horrid dusty counter!"
"She's having a cow about a counter???" asked Al, eyes wide.
Peter chuckled at Al's remark.
"Look, if you'll let me help you I can get the cash register open," said Sam, walking over to Mrs. V. as she tugged on the register.
"Yes, whatever. I just wish to have my rent money soon," she replied, still rather snobbishly.
Al rolled his eyes. "I suppose you'd like a cherry on top too?"
Sam dug through the register, and counted the money.
"That is only 80 dollars. I'm afraid you must move," replied Mrs. V.
"Sam! Noo!! You have GOT to find 20 dollars. They'll be out on the street.......and Pe...." Al's voice trailed off.
He punched keys on the handlink and disappeared through the door.
"Peter will what??" asked Sam. "Al????!"
"Uh... I wanna go home!!" whined Peter.
"Oh sheesh...", moaned Sam. "Disappearing holograms... whining kids... (he felt his stomach growl) OH BOY! This day cannot get any worse..."
Suddenly the Door opened again and Al rushed in looking frantic. "SAM! If you don't pay the rent, Peter turns out to be a drug dealer and arms smuggler!"
"Well, why didn't you just tell me that the FIRST time?", Sam whined.
"Ziggy only had a... NEVERMIND! Go out there and earn $20 somehow!! ANYHOW! Just DO IT!" Al bellowed.
"Sheesh Al... you sound like that old Nike commercial back in the early 90's!" Sam muttered.
"Nineties?", Peter said, quizzically.
"Oh boy. Yeah Peter. We're ghosts from... the future...", Sam revealed.
"Remembers old commercials but doesn’t remember the BEATLES half the Leaps…" muttered Al in the background.
"I wanna go play wis my blocks.", Peter said, obviously uncaring about anything in the future except his blocks.
"Al... you watch Peter. I am gonna go try to get $20." Sam informed Al.
"Right... you go." Al said absentmindedly.
After Sam left the shop he tried to figure out what a single woman who needed money could do for some QUICK cash. He wandered everywhere to and fro but couldn't seem to find any fast jobs. Then he came upon a sign. It read: "Singing contest. Best contestant will be rewarded a GRAND total of $50 smackers! Contest is May, 16, 1960 and sign-ups are everyday until the 16th! All races, sexes, genders accepted and encouraged"
WOW! Sam though. In THIS day and age... what a Godsend.
"I'd better go consult Al first though." Sam thought, making his way back to Al.
When Sam got to the front of the store he saw Mrs. Vanderwash dragging little Peter out of the shop. "STOP!!! Mrs. Vander... STOP!!" Sam cried out.
"WHAT?", the older woman yelled.
"I can have the rent by tomorrow I think. Just give me until tomorrow and if I don't have it then, I will leave voluntarily!!"
"NO! I already gave you ample time to collect my money!" Vanderwash said nastily.
But as she heard Peter crying his little heart out, even she could not remain stone hearted, and she reluctantly and somewhat angrily gave in.
"All right. but ONE day. Do you hear me Ms. Jenkins?? ONE DAY!" Vanderwash spat.
"Right...a day. I know... we'll either have the money or be out in a day." Sam said.
"Well GEEZ Sam, don't sound so defeated YET! You DO have a plan huh?" Al said.
"Yeah you betcha I do!" Sam said happily.
"WHAT?" cried Vanderwash.
"I said... I... betcha I have a day.... all right... to... uh... clear out or get the... money...", Sam said, making a face as if Vanderwash had come from another planet.
When she finally left, Sam explained how he was gonna sign up for the contest. Al congratulated him and warned Sam to hurry and sign up, as it was getting late already.
"Okay, Peter, you come with me this time," said Sam.
"What you don't trust me?" asked Al, before realizing what he was saying. "Yeh, I can't exactly do much can I?"
"What were you doing when Mrs. Rip Van Winkle was dragging Peter out?" asked Sam.
"Ugh, this is gonna sound silly Sam, but I was getting another cigar," replied Al, looking down.
"Getting a....getting a.....ooooh boy! Well next time have Gooshie BRING you one. Don't go walking round the whole control room!" replied Sam.
Al opened his mouth to say something, but it dropped even wider when he saw the giant sign being taken inside. "SAM! They are taking that sign in!"
Sam felt his dress becoming wet. He looked up. He hadn't noticed it before, due to his sun hat, but it was raining.
"Yeh, Al, cos it's raining. They don't want it to get wet."
"Oh, Sam, I hope you're right!" replied Al. "Or else, Peter....."
"I know I'm worried about Peter, but you seem to be even mo.......Oh, Al! I forgot. I didn't mean to....." started Sam.
"Yeh well swiss cheese....." replied Al, waving his cigar hand in the air above his head.
"Yeh, swiss-cheese," replied Sam.
"Swiss cheese?" asked Peter, looking up at the two "ghosts".
"Ugh, yeh, we were thinking of having a swiss cheese sandwich for dinner tonight," replied Sam.
"Oh," replied Peter. "Awe we dere yet?" he asked.
Suddenly the handlink squealed. "Uh-oh." said Al.
"What?" asked Sam.
"Don't even bother going in there Sam," replied Al.
"Why?" asked Sam.
"Ziggy says that they've already stopped taking entries," replied Al.
"How does he know?" asked Sam.
Al rolled his eyes. "Fine, Sam, but it's a waste of time."
"Sure, Al. Ziggy has been known to be wrong, so gimme a chance!" replied Sam, running down to the store, leaving Peter with Al.
Sam walked into the fifties style decorated room. He approached a tall oak counter. The lady at the desk gave him a look as his shoes put water all over the carpet.
"Yes?" she said in a very nasal voice.
"Ugh, I'd like to enter that music contest," replied Sam.
"Oh, I'm sorry. The deadline was at 2 o'clock. You missed it ma'am......."
Al smirked and mocked the lady's voice, "We're sorry your call could not go through....please hang up and try again.....", as he walked in with Peter.
"Stop it!" snapped Sam.
"Excuse me? There is no reason to get testy with me. It is not my fault that Mr. Burgundy decided to make the deadline earlier," replied the nasal lady.
"Look, you just give me a chance. I'll show you some talent," replied Sam.
"Look ma'am this is NOT a record company," replied the nasal lady.
"SAM! Just sing! Do like you did as Elvis! Just break out singing!" cried Al.
"I can't," replied Sam.
"Whadda ya mean you CAN'T???" asked Al.
"What song?" asked Sam.
"I don't know!" replied Al.
"Funny, the only song I can remember is well, from my last leap......" replied Sam.
"The Monkees?" asked Al.
"Yeh," replied Sam.
"All right, if you say so. But I don't think 'Last Train To Clarksville' is gonna win this contest," replied Al. He looked up at Sam. "Especially since you are a girl. I mean a lady...so you need something slow..."
"I figured that!" replied Sam.
The nasal lady stared at this strange lady talking to herself, or was she talking to the young boy in the corner? She shook her head.
"Look, you wanna be crazy, then go outside."
Sam looked at her. "You got a piano?"
"A piano sure over....heeey..." started the lady.
Sam walked over to the piano and sat down. He cleared his throat and began to sing "Shades Of Gray". The fact that he was singing in a woman's voice was a little shocking at first.
By the time Sam had finished the lady was standing in awe.
"Uh, I guess that, well, I'll talk to Mr. Burgundy."
"YES!" cried Al.
Peter mocked him. "Yes!" he cried, giggling.
"Cute, real cute," said Al.
After a few minutes of waiting a plump bald man in a suit came out. He held a cigar in his hand, similar to Al's, and he looked around cautiously.
"Oh, hello. Are you the lady in which Mrs. Noser was telling me about?"
Al did a double take. "Mrs. Noser???"
"Yes, sir," replied Sam.
"All right! You're in!" replied Mr. Burgundy, shaking Sam's hand.
"Ugh, thanks," replied Sam.
Peter, Sam and Al all walked out.
"Uh-oh," said Al.
"What now?" asked Sam.
"You still get kicked out. And Peter oh, great, not only becomes a drug dealer and a gun smuggler, but he dies at the age of 22 caught in the cross fire of some of his so called buddies," replied Al.
"How's that?" asked Sam. "There's no way. I don't know what to do."
"Sam, I think there's your answer," said Al.
Sam looked up.
Outside the flower shop sat a bunch of old furniture, and a huge pile of clothes. And on the door of the flower shop was a sign which read, "BANKRUPT DUE TO FAILURE OF PAYMENT OF BILLS"
"What?" asked Sam.
Peter saw the piles of clothes, and apparently didn't get it, so he ran and leaped into the pile. When he came out he was all muddy, because it was still raining.
"She threw us out! That LADY through us out!" cried Sam."What are we gonna do Al??"
"Now don't freak out, Sam... It seems..." He pounded on the handlink a bit, "That... you were... meant... to move out! You are supposed to move shop to you're... mother's house. Um... After... Darn Ziggy!!"
"So... I did ALL that for NOTHING???" Sam said somewhat annoyed.
"'Fraid so old friend", Al said with a bit of laughter in his eyes. "Well? Aren't you gonna Leap?"
"No Al... I have a feeling we aren't quite done yet!" Sam said.
"Well, Ziggy says that yo..." Al started, when a high pitched screech came from the shop.
Sam ran inside and Al centered in on him as soon as he got in. On the counter was Mrs. Vanderwash and a masked man. Sam ran up to the man, who was easily of a smaller build than his original body, and knocked him out with ease. Mrs. Vanderwash had a bewildered look on her face.
"Yo...you...you save... you saved ME... after what I did..." she stammered.
"Well, yeah. I guess we'll be seeing you around." Sam said.
"No... wait. I want you to rent my apartment. For a lot less than I was charging." Vanderwash said, and Sam thought he could almost hear the hint of kindness in her voice.
"Thank you Mrs. Vanderwash!" Sam said, graciously accepting Vanderwash's offer for Beverly.
As they walked out of the shop to collect the belongings sitting in the mud, Sam turned to Al. "So, Al... What DOES happen to..."
"Well, Beverly regains her apartment and her flower shop and reputation. It seems that saving the apartment WAS the right thing to do! Peter goes to college at Harvard and eventually becomes a biology graduate. He helps to find a cure for cancer. We don't have much more info on Vander-whatchamacallit but I suspect everything works out good between Beverly and her. Now... don't you want to..." Were the last words Sam heard before he Leapt again.
Sam looked around. The room was totally dark. He wasn't even sure he was in a room. He tried to move, but he couldn't. He yanked himself away, and he felt like he was falling. "Ooooooh boy!"....