1974-Holy Saints Church Jeffery had graduated a major in bussiness, and Nancy majored in art. It was a simple wedding. They said "I do" with only close family and friends there. They moved into an apartment at the edge of town. Jeff worked at the Roswell alien museum, and Tappy Tacos on the weekends. Nan succesfully sold her paintings, to dealers outside of Roswell. The people there were already sick of the desert.
Parker Apartment One evening, the couple was eating dinner. Jeffery was telling Nan about his manager when a queer look came over her face. "What Nan?" "You said children." "Yes, Martin has three." "Do you want to have children, Jeffery?" Nancy asked, with a blank unrevealing look. "Well, not particularly, at least not right now." "Exactly." They finished the meal in an uncomfortable silence.
1983-Parker Kitchen He turned slowly to face her. "You're WHAT?" "I'm preg-" "Shut up. I heard you the damned first time." Nancy tucked her hair behind her ears, and backed up aganist the cabinet. "Jeffery... you're frightening me." He closed his eyes, completely filled with rage, and other feelings he could not identify. The foreboding plothole grew. December 1983-Parker Residence The air was silent, except for the soft singing of an older, raspier voice. The older woman rocked the baby back and fourth, and laughed when tiny Elizabeth giggled. "That's my Lizzy bear." The proud grandmother coo'ed Liz's parents were both at work, her father starting an idea for a restuarant, and her mother at an art convention in New York. Claudia Parker was virtually the only human contact Liz had had since she was born.
September 1989-W. Roswell Elementary Six-year old Liz Parker stepped off the bus on the first day of kindergarden . She looked down in childlike dismay at the "cupcake dress" she wore. It was horribly poofy, but it was something at least. It was the only real gift she had recieved from her parents, her mother had even made it. When she looked up, a small boy was starring at her from a distance. She tried to smile at him, he looked so solemn. She looked happily at the other girls playing handclaps and hopscotch with their friends. She smiled, and walked into the school. Little did she know, that with each year, the plot hole grew larger.
April 1992 Third grade was going well. Liz's new friend Maria DeLuca was at her table and so was Alex Whitman, and Max Evans (who Liz found out was the quiet boy that first day) who never talked. Mrs. Smith handed out the science worksheets. Liz pulled her brown hair into a ponytail like Maria's, they had dressed alike that day too. "Mrs. Smith?" Her hand wagged in the air. "Yes, Liz? No, we are not going to make something explode today either." Liz's face fell, and the rest of the class laughed. Max gave her a sympathetic look, and she smiled at him. The lab for the day was to make a boat out of tin foil and see how many pennies it could hold before it sunk. Alex immidiately grabbed the foil and folded it into a square with edges and put it in the water basin. "And what if I wanted to do it, Alex?" Maria shook her blond head. "Go ahead, you know I'm right anyway." Maria folded her arms across her chest and 'harumphed.' Liz smiled. Mrs. Smith fell into the plothole when she was supervising recess.
August 1995-Parker Apartment Lix eagerly packed her bag. She and Maria were going to visit Grandma Claudia for a week. A knock came at the door. "That's Maria, I'll get it." No one answered her. "We ready to go?" Maria smiled eagerly. "Almost, lemme get Mom." Liz left Maria in the kitchen and headed to her mother's painting room. "Mom, Maria's here. Let's go." Nancy looked up from her painting. "Go ask your father, I'm too busy with this." Liz sighed and walked across the hall into the office where her father was tightening a tie and already had his business suit on. As Liz left her mother, the ever growing plothole swallowed up the whole painting room, her mother just narrowly escaped. "Dad, Mom's painting, can you please take Maria and I to Grandma Claudia's?"
"Liz, I have to leave for a meeting," he looked at his watch, "right now or I'll be late." "They'll understand won't they?" "No, Liz. None of my acciocates have children. They would think I was shirking my duties on purpose. I could get fired just for taking you to Grandma Claudia's. Liz, I can't do that." Liz's face tightened as she tried not to cry. She ran from the room when she saw the office being overtaked by the plothole. "Come on, Maria, let's go." Maria wordlessly followed, Liz was crying hard now. Liz stopped walking when they got to the alleyway. She leaned against the brick, and slid down so she was sitting with her legs brought up to her chin. Maria did the same, and patted her back. "It will be okay, Liz." Liz sniffed. "No, it won't. Your mom's outta town, and I can't stay here. And the plot hole will swallow us both" "We'll just walk then. It's not that far, is it?" "Grandma Claudia lives in California. And what if the plothole's already gotten her?" "Oh, yeah." Maria's face fell. "Wait, we can break back into my house, and stay there." "By ourselfs, all week?" "Yeah." Maria's eyes lit up, and she bit her lip. "It'll be awesome." "'Kay. Let's go." Liz wiped her eyes, and with a juanty skip, she tripped over the plothole that she lept over in just the nick of time. The two set off across town, and into certian doom.
September 1999-The Crashdown The plothole continued to race across Roswell, following Liz's life story and eating the really outrageous parts, like when Liz realized that her father couldn't have driven her all the way to California... anywho, back to the story. (Or what's left of it.) Maria and Liz were in their uniforms at work, Liz's father had recruited them both when he'd bought the restuarant. "Max Evans is staring at you again..." Maria said. And I think we all know the rest of the story, you know, Liz, Maria, Alex and their Chechleslovakian friends all at one point in the story, couldn't excape the plothole, and they fell in. But, of course this occoured years after their lives were secretly videotaped and shown on public television. Oh, wait... the author felt something pulling at her sleve. She turned around and looked right into the very plot hole she had just been writing about. "No," she screamed. "I am the author, I can make whatever I want happen in this, it's MY story!" "No," the plothole rumbled. "It's my story." It sucked Josephine away into plothole land, and grapped the keyboard to have some fun. All too late, it realized that anything it touched would be sucked into plothole land. The unhappy plot hole lived a tortured life. It could never be truly happy, knowing that it could never touch anything, or anyone again. And, besides, with out aliens, Roswell was getting to be a pretty boring place. That was when the plothole moved to Sunnydale...