So here I was. At Farrell's, the local grocery store in Chinatown. That's right. Not everything in Chinatown is owned by Chinese people or has a Chinese name. Hopefully, you already knew that.

Me, I was confused. See, I was walking around in the produce section, carrying one of those little baskets, along with a list from my mom. Looking in the basket, I saw that I had already obtained a jar of mayonnaise, some yogurt, and a TV Dinner. According to the list, I now only needed bananas, marshmallow fluff, detergent, tea cookies, and a pack of Slim Fast.

But you see, no one in my family even drinks Slim Fast. Or ever would.

Anyway, I was pretty sure I would find bananas in the produce section. I was wondering what my mom planned to do with them, along with the mayo, the yogurt, and the fluff. Whatever it was, it sounded nauseating.

For some reason, I couldn't find them. Maybe it was too early in the year for them...or too late in the year...but...didn't they always have bananas? I mean, don't they just raise the price if they're out of season? Are bananas ever out of season? Can bananas maybe be synthetically created when they are? I wouldn't be surprised. Why was I thinking so deeply about this?

And then, I saw someone over near the watermelon bin, knocking on each watermelon to test their freshness or ripeness or whatever. It was Henry Dashwood! It was weird how easily and clearly I recognized him, considering I'd only seen him once. On TV. For about sixty seconds.

Hey - how did he know that trick with the watermelons?

Suddenly, he looked up, and saw me. He smiled a little bit.

"Excuse me, Miss." he said. "Would you mind coming over here and listening to a few of these? I'm trying to find the hollowest one."

"Okay." I said, walking over to him. This was nice. Although I wasn't

what I'd call a great watermelon judge.

I listened as he knocked on a few different ones. He seemed to be in deep concentration.

"I'm thinking this one would be best." he said, demonstrating once more how "hollow" that one was.

"Then you should get it." I told him with a smile. See? I always knew it would be easy to talk to him.

He grinned, grabbed the watermelon, and dropped it into his cart. This made a loud noise.

"Should I get another one?" Henry quipped. He began to rub his chin.

We both stood there for a minute as he pondered whether or not he should get another one.

"Libby Reynolds is my aunt." I told him.

His eyes drifted from the watermelons and focused on me. A thoughtful look came over his face.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah."

"Well. That's quite a thing, isn't it? How is she these days?"

"She still loves you."

"Really. My, that's lovely. What now then. Oh! Why, I saw some exquisite jewelry at the front of the store. What say we buy her some?"

"Uh, they don't sell jewelry here." I said. Why on Earth would they sell jewelry in a grocery store? Geez.

"Oh. Bother. Well, never mind that. I'll just give her some of my watermelon."

"Aunt Libby hates watermelon."

"DAPHNE!!" I heard, out of nowhere. What? Daphne was here? I looked around for the person who called her name.

"Hey, DAPHNE!" I heard again. I looked up to see a girl perched on top of a ladder, stacking cans of chili into a huge pyramid. And...hey, wait a minute...the girl looked and sounded a lot like...me!

"Look at me, Daphne! Look how high I am!" the girl called, looking straight down at me.

What?! Why was she calling me Daphne? Why was I down here, and yet, up there? Why was I wearing Daphne's fuzzy orange sweater? WHY WAS THERE CHILI IN THE PRODUCE SECTION?!

"Oh, so your name is Daphne?" Henry asked. "Nice to meet you, Daphne!"

"My name isn't Daphne! It's Meghan!"

"YOU'RE FIRED!" came a loud, feminine voice. Jocelyn Dashwood immediately exploded out of a pile of oranges, decked out in a New York Giants jersey and waving a pennant of the same team, her other hand covered by a foam finger. "Ha, I love that guy Ronald Rump."

"Rump" had been the only thing she'd said that sounded remotely British, as the entire extent of her outburst had been in a Brooklyn-style accent.

"Lady Dashwood?" I said, startled. Wait, how did I know who this person was, anyway? After all, I'd never seen her before.

"Daphne! Grandbaby! C'mere! Give Grammy D a hug."

Grammy D? That sounded kinda like a McDonald's burger. Like, Come try our new 99 cent Grammy D! Made fresh to order with or without the bun!

"I'm not Daphne! She is!" pointing to the other me, stationed at the top of Mount Beans and Meat. Sure enough, the Meghan clone had been replaced by Daphne, who continued to gingerly stack cans onto the precarious pyramid.

"I should think a nap would be in order right about now." Henry muttered at random.

"Eh! Can someone help me outta this pile'a oranges?" Jocelyn inquired, now sounding as if she came from Staten Island.

I helped her out of the pile of oranges.

"That's better." she said, dusting herself off as she stood. "Are we goin' to the game, or what?"

"Ooh, I wanna go, Grandma!" Daphne shouted from above.

"'Course you can go, sweetie. But why'dja call me Grandma?"

"'Cuz you're my grandma."

"WHAT?!" Jocelyn turned to face me. "Who're YOU, then?"

"My name would be Meghan, for the millionth time." I told her. "Or

at least, I think the millionth time. But I haven't been counting."

"Excuse me." came yet another voice. It was Ian, pushing one of those wide mop thingies. He wanted to mop where we were standing, seemingly oblivious to the myriad of oranges that had fallen everywhere.

"Hey, you're hot." Daphne told him from her perch.

"Thanks, so are you." he replied. "I said, EXCUSE ME!"

"Where are all these British people coming from?" Henry asked me. "It's as if, they're like, taking over the country or something."

"What did you just say, pal?" Ian challenged him, with an edge in his voice. By the way, who was this Ian person, anyway?

"Wanker!"

"So are you!"

"I feel like a microwave burrito." commented Daphne. She began to dismount the ladder, almost toppling the mass of chili in the process.

"So what y'all are meanin' to say is, yer not my grandbaby, and yer just a dirty liar who's been foolin' me all along?" Jocelyn asked me, in full-on Texas drawl.

"Uh..."

I suddenly heard the sound of someone crying. I turned to see that it was Aunt Libby, sobbing over a sack of potatoes that'd been torn open. She seemed positively devastated as she cradled a potato in her hand. Faye, whose very existence I knew nothing about, was crying with her.

"That's rot." Ian surmised, staring at them.

"You're dang right it's rot! My aunt's crying, you idiot!"

"No, I mean, the potato. It's rotten."

"Well, seein' as she's a dirty liar, I reckon we all form an angry mob

and surround her, and then, we beat her with sticks."

"I reckon so." Daphne giggled. "Go Grandma!"

"Darn right."

"Daphne!" I cried, on the verge of tears. "You can't mean that!"

"Dirty liar! Dirty liar!" Jocelyn began chanting.

"No! I'm not a liar!" I shouted. Why was she calling me a liar? I'd never even met the woman!

"Dirty liar! Dirty liar!" Ian and Henry barked with Jocelyn. Faye and Aunt Libby, apparently just now noticing the goings-on behind them, turned cold, desolate eyes on me. Then, Faye broke away, and joined everyone else, going from despair to anger in three seconds.

"Liar! Liar!" Daphne, who'd just gotten to the ground, was the last to join the chant.

"Daphne." I pleaded. "Please. Don't do this."

She didn't seem to hear. Daphne, along with Sports Fanatic Jocelyn, Ian the Janitor, and Henry the Watermelon Monger turned Homeland Security Advisor, grabbed a flaming torch out of nowhere, proceeding to set the avocados on fire for no particular reason. Then the whole lot of them, with their flaming torches and flaming foam finger, all started a slow advance toward me, chanting all the while. Everyone else in the store dropped whatever it was they were doing and got in on the action, shouting in unison with everyone else. Wait - was that Mr. Therman, getting ready to chuck a cantaloupe at me? And who was that with him...a caveman? From one of those car insurance commercials? Okay, that was just wrong. I'd always supported cavemen. And now, they were turning against me.

I turned to the one remaining person, Aunt Libby. She only continued to stare up at me, forlorn, clutching the potato in her hands. But something told me it wasn't about the potato at all.

It was me. Somehow, I was the one who had made Aunt Libby cry. And now, I wanted to cry.

I turned back to the angry mob, which I was now backing away from. They'd come a lot closer during the few seconds I'd turned to my aunt. Mr. Therman threw the cantaloupe - and I ducked, causing it to hit the broccoli behind me. Then, I ran.

As fast as I could, I ran away from the mob and out of the produce section - only to find that there was a long stretch of store ahead of me that I'd have to tackle before I reached the door. And what was this - a jewelry section toward the front? So Henry had been right. How had I not noticed that, all these many years?

I began my sprint for the door. At about the halfway point, I saw Jewel. She began to run with me.

"Whatchu runnin' from?" she asked.

"Them." I said, pointing behind me at the angry mob that was hot on my trail.

"Oh. Okay then. It's funny seein' you here. I thought you were in England."

"What are you talking about?"

Every time I looked at Jewel, the mob seemed to get closer, though I never slowed my run.

"Your trip, remember? Snaps Meghan, you been smokin' somethin?"

"I think I have been, Jewel."

"Awright then. I catch you later ma."

"Later..." Jewel stopped where she was, while I kept running. I immediately found myself about twenty feet ahead of her. It was like watching myself pass something out of the back window of a car, on a fast-moving highway.

I was approaching the doors. I stole one last glance at the crowd that pursued me. Daphne was at the forefront, and her face...it was furious. Apparently, her thoughts of processed Mexican food were long gone, because this wasn't a game anymore. Her face was the angriest I'd ever, ever seen it. She screamed with the rest of the group, her voice conveying a hot desire for revenge. Her eyes flamed like the torch she wielded as she kept up her poisoned glare.

The glare that was directed straight at me. Daphne wanted me dead. And that made me want to just fall to the ground, and let them overtake me.

But for some reason, I didn't do that. I kept going, and almost bashed into the automatic doors that only just managed to slide open as I blazed through.

There was a giant swimming pool just outside. I jumped...and seemed to go about ten times higher than I'd ever gone before. And as I started to come down, my stomach lurched - kind of like it does on roller coasters - and my fall was incredibly slow. In midair, I willed myself to go faster, terrified of being hit with a torch or a cantaloupe once those behind me came flooding out. I stared down at the calm, gently moving turquoise substance below me, reaching for it with all that I had. Every inch of my body screamed for the cool, healing safety of the water.

And finally, I crashed through.

Every sound disappeared as I tumbled slowly into the swirling depth. I watched the white aggravation of the water as it sizzled around my legs. I closed my eyes and relished the serene, soothing feeling that overtook me. Discovering a miraculous ability to breathe underwater, I took in a huge, cleansing breath - and instantly, my lungs and chest were filled with the cool sensation. Somehow, in that grocery store, I'd lost most everything I'd ever cared about. But everything would be alright, as long as I just drifted here, without a care in the world, all the days of my life.

Vaguely, I heard something through the water. I opened my eyes and turned on my back, gazing calmly at the surface far above. I watched as two people, a teenaged boy and girl, came into the water. The boy was brown-haired. The girl was blonde.

Unlike me, the two began to tread water at the summit, rather than releasing all stresses they carried to sink to the land below. Though I was fully clothed - oddly, in a dress of some sort - the two above me were appropriately dressed for the pool, one in trunks, the other in bikini. I watched as a high-heeled shoe I'd been wearing slipped off of my foot and drifted to the top, the other one following shortly after. My hair swirled around my face, threatening to block my view of the couple. I waved my hand in front of my eyes to wipe it away.

The boy and girl seemed to be playing a cute little game, splashing and kicking each other near the edge of the pool. Then, the boy grabbed the edge with one hand and took in the girl with the other. Their legs entangled as they came together, seemingly lost in passionate love. Then their faces started for each other...their lips connected...and suddenly...

He was Luke.

She was Clarissa.

And I was drowning.

All of my memory hit my head like a semi-truck. I knew him. I knew her. I knew it all. And I took in a breath - but nothing came. I gasped. Panic over swept me as I desperately cried out for air. I heard my scream, muffled by the depth of the water. I was dying, under the feet of the one I loved.

And then, I heard a voice.

"Meghan."

It's was a man's voice, and it was incredibly familiar. But the identity of the one who possessed it was the one thing in my memory that eluded me. I saw a hand reach out and touch my chest, just below my neck.

"Breathe." I heard him say.

I did. And as I started to take in slow, even breaths, he took his hand away. I couldn't see him, and I didn't know who he was, but I told him not to leave me. I shut my eyes, not bearing to see Luke kiss Clarissa.

"You've got this, Meg." was what he said. "Go face it." That was all.

"Are you crazy?!" I shouted at him, hearing myself loud and clear. But I got no response. I opened my eyes, still facing the surface...

And they were looking straight down at me. Luke was empty. Clarissa was indifferent. And they were both frozen in their stares.

I stared back as I lay far beneath them, still breathing in, and breathing out. They were there. I was here. And no one moved. We only gazed at each other as a strange sound began to weave into my mind. The crackling of a radio. Someone's voice. Still I stared at Luke and Clarissa, until the crackling escalated to a blare I couldn't stand. I shut my eyes.

And when I opened them, I found myself lying in an airplane seat. My heels were on my feet, and my dress was bone dry. And we were on the ground.

Wow. It was impossible for me to believe that already, I was back in New York. I began to regret my sleeping through the whole trip. I mean, not that I was missing much, besides ocean - but if I'd been awake, maybe I would've felt like I'd come more of a distance. Maybe the fact that I HAD been in London would've seemed more real.

Or maybe I was just shaken by the fact that everything was happening so fast.

I could think of nothing else to do but to take off my seatbelt and

wander to the window. Outside, it was dark and barren, and I didn't even try to guess what time it was. or whether I gone to the past or to the future. I didn't really care. It had been the worst night of my life, and it wasn't over yet. All the shame and hurt was flooding back to where it had momentarily left me in the "sanctuary" of sleep.

I knew that I'd have to call my family as soon as I stepped off the plane and found a phone - and for some reason, it felt strange to me to think that this time, I wouldn't have to dial collect. And oh! The guilt I would have to face. The depression. Such apprehension was hard to bear.

Welcome back, Meghan. To the land where everyone is free and brave - except you.

My feet ached as I stepped away from the window, turning to face a uniformed man who had just come into my cabin. He motioned for me to follow him, and lead me to a door on the opposite side of the small plane. Without a word, he opened it, and held it aside for me to step through. How very polite of him. So sad that he aided an evil rat.

Nothing held me inside the plane - I had by now accepted the unfortunate circumstances, and was ready to breathe in that fresh, smoggy New York air, which I hoped would make me feel a little better. I took a step down, out of the small aircraft.

My shock at the sight that met me was immense. There stood a tall, brown-haired man in a long, khaki trench coat. He was positioned next to a shiny black car, near an open door that led into a roomy, leathery back seat. His hands were in his pockets as he gazed slightly upwards.

"Good evening, Meghan." my cousin's father said with a tentative smile.

I took another step down.

"Lord Dashwood?" I squeaked, still vastly out of sorts. "You came to New York too?"

The man chuckled.

"You're in England, love." he told me.

I took another step, another, another, until I found myself standing on the asphalt ground. Slowly, a cautious joy was weaving its way through my mind and body, as a brighter reality registered in my awareness. I came forward and threw my arms around the guy before I could change my mind, and with his returning the gesture, we stood there, though a little stiffly, for a few brief seconds. Then we released, and he gestured for me to step on into the car. As I did so, I noticed a new kind of look in his eyes that I'd never seen before. It was genuinely a look of compassion and sincerity.

It was also, I noticed, a look of knowing.

Hehe. Hoped they were to your liking. Thought you'd like a little dose of comedy...was it LOL or did it fall flat? You be the judge!

As always, PLEASE review!! I WILL respond! And reviews are a big part of why I keep going with this thing!

And I haven't said this in awhile, but...nothing or no one in this story that you recognize from the original movie belong to me. Also, most of the chinese food doesn't belong to me either. But have some anyway. :)

-rf-