He walked up the steps with a mingled sense of dread and excitement. Mostly excitement, but still, he worried. His brain raced through the possibilities like a computer, calculating probabilities, trying to see how this would work. Basic knowledge: his parents had always been chill about where he was and what time he got home. The negator: he wasn't sure if his lenient curfew applied to time and space outside Bayville in the 1970s. Fact: They loved him. Negator: When they found out it was his science project that did it? Man, their mellows were going to be harshed. He was going to be grounded for months.
It wasn't that he worried that things had change. Rather, he wondered how'd they'd react to see that he hadn't. He'd seen people evolve, knew times were different, but wondered to what degree his parents had changed. What if they didn't believe him? What if they were squares?
He knocked on the door and almost felt like running. What was an extra day to his absence?
"Mom?" he said as the door opened.
"Forge?" the woman replied, brown eyes open wide. Almost as wide as the grin spreading across her tan face. Her hair was just as long, but greyer, in the thick braid she always wore. She flung her arms around him, and he could still smell the same earthy scent that seemed to seep from her pores.
"We're missed you so much!" her grip around his waist tightened for a moment before she stood back and moved her hands to his shoulders. "You haven't changed a bit! I don't know what new grass you've been smoking, but I could use some!"
Forge laughed. "Neither have you, mom!" he responded, eyeing her long orange skirt and peasant blouse. Her faced, though more wrinkled than before, was still striking, with high cheekbones and a regal look to it.
"Your father - he needs to see this, man!" she said, voice growing ever more excited. "Howard! Howard come here, he's back!"
"The damn salesman? I though we got rid of him in eighty-two."
"FORGE," she called, spinning around, raising her hands to her mouth in a makeshift megaphone. "Our son! He's back!"
As if on cue, a tall bearded man rounded the corner from the kitchen, which was still plastered with the same paisley wallpaper. His hair was long and grizzled, pulled back into two braids decorated with beads. His father peered at him through round rose-tinted glasses, and the smell of patchouli wafted off his body.
It felt more like home with every passing minute.
"Well damn, son," he started after a moment's pause, "Where have you been?"
"It's a long story," Forge replied with a shaky laugh.
"We were so worried about you," his mother piped in.
"I thought it might have had something to do with The Man," his father confirmed, before giving him a suspicious squint. "It wasn't The Man, was it? Were you anally probed?"
"No, Dad, I wasn't. I just... got stuck somewhere, a long time ago. Like when you got lost after Woodstock and had to hitchhike back. Except I couldn't find a ride home for a while."
"Well," his father replied after a long pause, "Good think you're back. People these days are just unreal, we worried you might've turned into one of them. Strange, stressed, far out people."
"I just made a fresh batch of brownies, dear" his mother said, "my special kind, the ones you loved to bring to school."
Things were looking better already. But there was still one thing harrying his mind.
"So... I'm not grounded?"
"Oh please, Forge!" his mother laughed.
"Who do I look like, The Man?" his father demanded as they moved into the kitchen, heeled boots clunking on the tiles. His tie-dye shirt hung loose on his body, and the fringe on his vest rustled as he sat at the table. "Nah, I've got something else in mind for you."
"What?" Forge asked, heart sinking, before taking the first bite of his herbally-enhanced brownie.
"I need you to do me a solid and fix the vaporizer for me. Kicked out three weeks ago and I haven't been able to get the same buzz since."
His heart soared. Things really hadn't changed. Same parents, same crib, same brownies. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so happy, or even, as the THC kicked in, so calm. He picked up the base of the vaporizer and looked at it with an appraising eye as his arm transformed to a more useful state.
"Soon as you get that thing up and running again, we're going to have a righteous bonding session," his father announced, throwing an arm around him. "That was the most radical Father's Day gift you ever made me."
FIN.
Author's Notes: Just an amusing thought I had while watching Middleverse a while back. As always, reviews are encouraged and constructive criticism is welcome!