This is a true story. It is rated PG. Any similarities to other true stories are merely coincidental.
Aug. 4, 2015: An herbicide named Herb, his pollen girlfriend Polly, the two Spore Sisters, four pieces of dirt who wouldn’t share their names and a fine particle named Lovely crossed paths in a frenzy on a driveway near Dunne Park. They were all part of the historic, mass migration in an underworld of Particulates looking for a new neighborhood, to escape from a growing force decimating Hollister’s downtown Particulate community—leaf blowers, otherwise referred to as The Destroyers—sending herbicides, pesticides, pollen, mold spores, dirt, fine particles, animal waste and any debris light enough for the ride across the block, across town or into Oblivion, the Particulate heaven.
For film and literary context, this period of five years in which The Destroyers disrupted their world was like Deep Impact, The Happening and The Road for the Particulates.
“It’s starting again!” Herb shouted to the newly formed faction as a man-made roar of ceaseless, deafening thunder came their way.
“Leaf!”
“Blower!”
A man, an absolute giant in their world wearing a jumpsuit and faded goggles, turned the corner toward them and blew the weapon of mass dysfunction—a Particulate term—in their direction. They had five to 10 seconds before everyone would go flying and face uncertain fates and likely death, maybe up the nose of an unknowing, snotty teenager or possibly into the swampy Red River—known as the sewer in the human world and colored by highly acidic, tomato-cannery byproducts.
“Get on quick, everyone!” said Herb as he positioned the piece of a leaf—which he had deemed “perfect for flight” minutes earlier—at the necessary upward slope for takeoff and in a preferred direction, using a patchwork of rubbish as a ramp.
The Particulates hustled onto Herb’s leaf and held on tightly, most closing their eyes like it was a roller coaster without seat belts or chest bars. They had two seconds to spare and they were off with a rush of wind, caught perfectly in a classic Hollister afternoon gust.
Still holding on, the Particulates each slowly opened their eyes, wondering if they had survived or made it to Oblivion, and panned toward a smiling Herb as wind gently carried the leaf upward in the direction of their destination, the railroad tracks, less than a mile away.
“It worked!” the Spore Sisters yelled in near unison.
Most Particulates tend to yell at this point due to severe hearing loss from The Destroyers.
“I knew you could do it,” Polly said as she hugged Herb.
“You’re my hero,” followed Lovely, drawing a scowl from Polly.
The pieces of dirt didn’t acknowledge anything, but Herb knew they appreciated his brilliance. It all inspired Herb, the most pretentious herbicidal Particulate in Hollister, to enhance the montage-worthy mood by playing his favorite inspirational song on a tiny MP3 player. All the other Particulates, including the pieces of dirt, immediately recognized it as the Pitbull hit “Give Me Everything” and joined in with an uncoordinated attempt at a choreographed flash-mob dance. After all, the odd grouping of Particulates had just met for the first time and couldn’t have conceived of a dance, let alone practiced the moves. They did get in a few harmonized kicks, though, to go with the widely recognized club music.
“To-night … I want all of you to-night”
Kick, Kick.
“Give me everything to-night”
Kick, Kick.
“For all we know … we might, not, get, to-mo-rrow”
Kick.
“Let’s do it tonight!”
At that point, as the musical interlude intensified, the Particulates all jumped with their arms up and sang along, oblivious to the lyrics’ meaning, as the volume escalated.
With everyone jumping deliriously, Polly glanced down and observed an army of landscapers and homeowners hauling leaf blowers and backpacks, the scene largely resembling a Ghostbusters-themed Halloween costume party.
“We’re not out of the woods yet,” she alerted the group, deafening the mood as everyone noticed dozens of Destroyers right below.
“And we’re losing altitude,” Herb said.
They all trembled helplessly as they descended right toward the mass of leaf blowers below. If they could just get past this last army of Destroyers, the Particulates could float with ease to the train and out of the leaf-blowing war zone called Hollister.
That’s when a rogue, airborne piece of dog feces struck the group’s leaf, sending it upward in a tumultuous spin. When the leaf regained its composure and continued floating off toward the train, everyone realized a new passenger had landed on board.
“The name’s Dumpy,” he told them while standing up, though no one would shake his hand.
Surveying the group, though, Herb immediately noticed someone missing.
“Polly!”
He looked hurriedly around the edges.
“No! … My dear, sweet Polly! No!”
On his knees bawling maniacally, Herb crouched in agony as the others looked on in stunned silence.
Then, in the distance, a human male let off one of those completely unfettered sneezes that sounds like a person screaming in a torture chamber. Then, a second sneeze.
Herb scrambled to peak his head over the edge and felt pure elation at what he saw—Polly flying through the air toward the leaf and the human who had sneezed her out of his nose looking up.
“Polly!” he yelled.
“I’m coming, Herb!” she yelled back in midair.
As the others cheered while awaiting her arrival, Herb braced himself, waited a few seconds and jumped to catch her, landing back on the leaf with Polly in his herbicidal Particulate arms.
With the love of his life covered in mucus, Herb kissed Polly, reached over to his tiny MP3 player and continued playing the group’s signature Pitbull song as they drifted toward the train and to what might be Oblivion on earth.
“Let’s enjoy this,” he said. “For all we know, we might not get tomorrow.”
