"You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind, a journey into a ludicrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination and madness. That's the crazy town up ahead—your next stop, the Ventura Zone."

Chapter 2: It's a Good Life- Mayberry

A retelling of Season 3: Episode 8 of Twilight Zone, Andy Griffith Show, and Ace Ventura

Six-year-old Opie Taylor was wandering along the outskirts of Mayberry, kicking a small rock along the dirt road as he went. It was a sunny afternoon, and the cornfields swayed gently in the breeze. He hummed a tune to himself, content in his small-town world, when something unusual caught his eye.

A portly boy, about his age, emerged from the cornfield, stepping out as if he belonged there. He had beady eyes and small sausage-like fingers. His poofy blond hair shimmered in the sunlight, and his expression was oddly calm for someone who had just come out of nowhere. Curious, Opie approached the boy.

"Hi," Opie said with a friendly smile. "I'm Opie Taylor. Who are you?"

The boy tilted his head slightly, his blue eyes studying Opie. "Donald," he said simply. "My name's Donald."

"You live around here?" Opie asked, his curiosity growing.

Donald shook his head. "No. I just got here."

Before Opie could ask more questions, a loud bark interrupted their conversation. Turning toward the sound, Opie saw Benji, a scruffy old dog that often wandered the town. Benji had stopped a few yards away and was barking furiously at Donald, his hackles raised.

"Benji, quit it!" Opie scolded, waving his hands to shoo the dog away. "He ain't doin' nothin'. Go on, now!"

But Benji didn't stop. His barks grew louder, more insistent, as if he sensed something no one else could. Donald's calm expression darkened, and he turned his gaze toward the dog. Without warning, Benji let out a yelp as flames suddenly erupted across his fur. The poor animal spun in circles before bolting into the cornfield, a trail of smoke rising behind him.

Opie froze, his eyes wide with shock. "What just happened?" he whispered.

Donald's face was blank again, as if nothing unusual had occurred. "He was being bad," Donald said in a tone so calm it sent a shiver down Opie's spine.

Opie hesitated, then ran into the cornfield, calling out, "Benji! Where'd you go? Benji! Where are you at, boy?"

But there was no sign of the dog—no tracks, no sound, no hint of where he might have gone. All that remained was the faint smell of burnt corn husks. When Opie turned back, Donald was standing at the edge of the field, watching him with an unreadable expression.

"I don't think you'll find him," Donald said quietly. "He's gone now."

Opie's heart raced as he returned to the road, avoiding Donald's gaze. "What do you mean, gone?"

Donald smiled faintly. "Just gone."

Opie wasn't quite sure what to make of Donald. As strange as he was, he couldn't blame Donald for what happened to Benji. Instead, Opie chose to take Donald into town with him so that he could meet his father, Andy Taylor, who was the sheriff of Mayberry.

When they arrived at the sheriff's office, Andy and his deputy, Barney Fife, were deep in conversation. Andy leaned against his desk, a thoughtful expression on his face, while Barney gestured animatedly, his voice rising with each word.

"I'm just saying, Andy, Otis can't keep treating this place like it's a free hotel," Barney argued. "We gotta draw the line somewhere."

Andy nodded patiently. "I hear you, Barney, but what else are we gonna do? He's harmless, and you know he'll sleep it off by morning."

"Harmless?" Barney exclaimed. "Andy, we're runnin' a jail, not a bed-and-breakfast!"

Opie stood by the door, trying to catch his father's attention. "Pa," he said, his voice barely cutting through the argument. "Pa, I need you to meet someone."

Andy glanced over, his expression softening when he saw his son. "What is it, Opie?"

Before Opie could answer, Donald stepped forward, his small frame dwarfed by the room. Barney stopped mid-sentence, eyeing the new arrival suspiciously.

"Who's this?" Barney asked, squinting at Donald.

"This is Donald," Opie said. "I met him out by the cornfield."

Andy crouched slightly to meet Donald's gaze. "Well, hey there, Donald. Nice to meet you."

Donald didn't respond immediately. His beady blue eyes scanned the room, settling on Barney, who was still muttering under his breath about Otis. "What's the matter?" Donald asked, his tone eerily calm.

Barney frowned. "None of your concern, kid."

Donald's gaze lingered on him for a moment before he said, "You don't like that Otis man, do you?"

Barney opened his mouth to retort, but Andy cut him off. "Now, hold on. That's not for you to worry about, Donald."

Donald's lips curled into a faint smile. "It's okay. He's gone now."

Andy and Barney exchanged confused looks. "What do you mean, gone?" Andy asked.

Donald pointed toward the empty jail cell. "He's in the cornfield."

Barney's eyes widened. "What are you talkin' about, kid?"

Andy stepped to the door and peered outside. "Otis? You out here?"

There was no sign of the town drunk. Andy's brow furrowed as he turned back to the room. "Well, I'll be. Maybe he wandered off."

Donald's smile widened ever so slightly. "He didn't wander."

Barney laughed nervously. "Yeah, sure. He probably just—"

"I sent him to the cornfield," Donald interrupted.

The room fell silent. Andy and Barney exchanged uneasy glances before bursting into laughter.

"That's a good one, Donald," Andy said, patting the boy's shoulder. "Real good."

Donald didn't laugh. He just stared at them, his expression unreadable. Opie shifted uncomfortably, sensing that something wasn't quite right.

Andy straightened up and looked Donald in the eye. "I haven't seen you around these parts before. Did you and your parents just move here?"

Donald shook his head.

Andy's brow furrowed. "You just passin' through town, then?"

Again, Donald shook his head.

"Well, where are your parents? Can I give 'em a call?" Andy asked.

Donald shook his head once more.

Andy picked up the phone, intending to call around and figure out what was going on, but there was no dial tone. He jiggled the receiver. "That's funny," he muttered. "Phone's dead."

Just then, Gomer Pyle burst into the office, his face pale. "Sheriff! Sheriff! The whole town's outta power. Nobody's got electricity!"

Donald's calm voice cut through the room. "You're not allowed to have electricity anymore. Everyone has to do what I say, or they'll go to the cornfield."

Barney turned on Donald, his face turning red. "Now you listen here, boy! Cut it out with the weird jokes, you hear me?"

Andy raised a hand to calm Barney. "Take it easy, Barn. I'll go check on the power supply. You stay here and keep an eye on the boys."

Barney grumbled. "If the boys are gonna have traumas, I don't want 'em on my hands."

Andy was about to leave when Floyd the barber rushed in, his usually composed demeanor replaced with panic. "Andy! Andy! People are gettin' scared. All the roads outta town are blocked with these big ol' stalks of corn! They go on for miles!"

Donald's voice, calm and even, rose above the commotion. "It's the biggest and best cornfield to ever exist. Nobody can find an exit, and nobody will be able to enter the town through it."

Opie tugged on his father's sleeve. "Pa, I forgot to tell you… Benji, he started barkin' at Donald. Then he caught on fire and disappeared into the cornfield."

Andy's face grew serious. "Opie, show me where Benji disappeared," Andy said, his voice steady but tinged with unease. "Gomer, Floyd, you come with me."

Barney stepped forward, waving his hands. "Hold on a second, Andy. You're leaving me here? Alone? With *him*?" He jabbed a thumb toward Donald, who stood silently, his expression calm but unsettling.

Donald's serene demeanor shifted slightly as he tilted his head. "I could always turn you into a scarecrow and send you to the cornfield if you don't like me."

Barney's face went pale as he forced a nervous laugh. "No, no, no! I like you, kid. You're… fine. Just fine." Adjusting his tie, he stepped back, his eyes darting toward the empty cell where Otis had once been.

Andy turned to Barney, his tone reassuring. "Relax, Barn. He's just a boy. We'll be back soon." He looked at Opie. "Lead the way, son."

Opie nodded, sparing a cautious glance at Donald before heading out the door. Andy, Gomer, and Floyd followed, leaving Barney alone with the unsettling child.

Barney shifted uncomfortably, trying to avoid Donald's gaze. "So, uh… you like sports?" he asked weakly, attempting to fill the silence.

Donald didn't answer. Instead, he walked over to Barney's desk, his small hand running over the surface. "It's funny," Donald said softly, his voice almost a whisper. "You think you're in charge, but you're not."

Barney swallowed hard, his hand drifting to his tie again. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Donald smiled faintly, the expression not quite reaching his eyes. "You'll see."

Meanwhile, outside, Andy and the group reached the edge of the cornfield where Opie had last seen Benji. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and scorched corn. Andy knelt down, inspecting the ground for any signs of the dog.

"There's nothin' here," he said, frowning.

"It was right here, Pa," Opie insisted. "I saw it with my own eyes."

"Maybe the dog ran off," Floyd offered, though his voice lacked conviction.

Gomer scratched his head, glancing nervously at the towering stalks of corn. "Sheriff, I don't like this. Somethin' ain't right about that boy."

Andy straightened, his expression grave. "I don't know what's goin' on, but we're gonna get to the bottom of it. Let's head back to the station."

As they turned to leave, the corn behind them rustled, though there was no breeze. Andy paused, his hand instinctively going to his holster. "Let's pick up the pace," he said, his voice low.

Back at the station, Barney was sitting rigidly in his chair, sweat beading on his forehead as Donald sat across from him, eerily still. The room felt colder somehow, as if the boy's very presence had drained the warmth from the air.

Andy and the others burst through the door, the tension in the room hitting them immediately.

"Barn, you okay?" Andy asked, his eyes narrowing as he took in Barney's pale face.

"Fine," Barney said quickly, though his voice was strained. "Just fine."

Donald looked up at Andy, his smile returning. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

Andy didn't answer, his instincts screaming that something was very, very wrong.

Andy began wondering what he should do. The boy hadn't done anything wrong thus far other than seem weird. As a precaution, Andy began to act friendly to Donald, offering him a piece of gum. The interaction and attention seemed to make Donald happy. Andy then asked Donald if he had ever seen the inside of a jail cell before. Donald shook his head.

Andy said, "Why, let me escort you around this place." Again, Donald seemed thrilled by the attention. Andy began showing Donald the cell and told him there was more gum over in the corner and Donald could have all he wants if he goes and gets it.

Donald didn't see any gum from where he was standing, and Andy told him he had to go and look closer because it was hidden under the pillow. Donald decided to head for the pillow in the corner, but when he lifted the pillow, there wasn't any gum there.

Just then, Donald heard the cell doors clang shut. When he turned to look, Andy was locking him inside. Andy told Donald that it was for the best until they could figure out where his parents were at.

Donald didn't like that one bit. His cheerful demeanor disappeared in an instant, replaced by a scowl that sent shivers down Andy's spine. The lights in the station flickered ominously, and a strange, low hum seemed to vibrate through the air. Donald's voice, suddenly calm but cold, filled the room.

"Sheriff," Donald said, "I don't like being tricked. And I don't like this cage." He took a step toward the bars, his small hands gripping them tightly. The metal began to groan and warp under his fingers. "Let me out now, and I'll pretend this never happened."

Barney, who had been watching the scene unfold from behind Andy, gulped audibly. "Andy," he whispered, "I think we've got a… a… situation here."

Andy held up a hand, trying to remain calm. "Now, Donald, let's not do anything hasty. We just need to keep you here until we figure things out. This is for your own safety."

"Safety?" Donald repeated, tilting his head as though the concept amused him. "I don't need anyone to keep me safe. I can do anything I want."

With that, the lights went out completely, plunging the station into darkness. Andy heard Barney yelp, and the sound of chairs scraping against the floor as someone stumbled. Then, just as suddenly as they had gone out, the lights flickered back on.

Donald was no longer in the cell. Instead, he was standing in the center of the room, smiling innocently as though nothing had happened.

"How did he…?" Barney stammered, backing up against the wall.

Donald walked toward Andy, his expression calm but his eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity. "I'll forgive you this time, Sheriff. But only because I like you. You're nice to me."

Andy felt his throat tighten. He had dealt with plenty of odd characters in Mayberry, but nothing like this. He forced a smile. "Well, I'm glad we're friends, Donald. Why don't we go outside and… uh… get some fresh air?"

Donald's smile widened. "I'd like that."

As Donald walked toward the door, Andy glanced at Barney, whose face was pale and sweat-drenched. "Stay here," Andy mouthed. Barney nodded quickly, sinking into a chair.

Outside, the streets of Mayberry were eerily quiet. The townsfolk had begun to notice the strange happenings and were staying indoors, peeking nervously out from behind their curtains. Andy led Donald down the sidewalk, racking his brain for a plan.

Just then, a loud, boisterous voice rang out from the distance. "Alrighty then! Who's ready for a little adventure?"

Andy turned to see a man in a Hawaiian shirt and striped pants striding confidently down the street. In his arms, he carried a scruffy dog—Benji, alive and well. The man was twirling a cane and wearing a grin so wide it seemed almost unnatural. He stopped in front of Andy and Donald, tipping an imaginary hat.

"Ace Ventura, Pet Detective," he announced, bowing theatrically. "At your service. Now, what seems to be the problem here?"

Donald's jaw dropped as he stared at Benji. "How… how did you get here? And how did you find him?" he asked, pointing his sausage-like finger at the dog.

Ace shrugged dramatically. "Oh, you know, someone called me about a missing dog. Had to trek through some ridiculously huge cornfield to find him. No big deal." Then Ace's jaw dropped when he looked down to see who he was actually talking to. "Holy Testicle Tuesday! Someone call Kermit and Miss Piggy and tell them their son is wondering free."

Donald's beady eyes narrowed. "That's impossible. Nobody can find their way through the biggest and best cornfield to ever exist."

"Ree-hee-heely?" Ace smirked, leaning down slightly to meet Donald's gaze. "It was quite simple, actually. Just had to walk up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A, start." He tapped the side of his head. "And voila! I'm here."

Donald blinked, confused. "What does that even mean?"

Ace grinned wider. "It means you shouldn't have used the same directions as the cheat code for Contra. Lah-hoo—Zah-her!" He wiggled his fingers at Donald mockingly. "I also wanted to mention, I love your cotton candy hair. It reminds me of the mane of an albino horse I once rescued in the wild."

Andy stood silently, watching the exchange with equal parts confusion and relief. For the first time, he felt like they might just have a shot at solving this bizarre situation.

Donald pointed his finger at Ace, his face twisting with anger. "I don't like you. You're mean to me. Now you're gonna have to pay."

Ace raised an eyebrow and started patting his pockets in exaggerated motions. "Pay? Oh dear, I seem to have forgotten my wallet. Would you accept a rain check, perhaps?"

Donald's eyes glowed with an eerie intensity. "No! You will become a scarecrow in my cornfield, funny man!"

With that, Ace disappeared in an instant, leaving Benji standing in his place, barking furiously. Donald looked down at the dog, his expression darkening as his small hand twitched toward Benji. The tension in the air thickened, and it seemed as if something terrible was about to happen to the little dog.

Before Donald could make a move, Andy stepped forward, scooping Benji up in his arms. The dog whimpered but quickly calmed down as Andy gently stroked his fur. "It's okay, boy," Andy said soothingly. "You're just scared because you were lost in that brilliant cornfield Donald made. But don't worry—we'll get you some food, and you'll feel much better."

Donald hesitated, his anger momentarily replaced by a flicker of confusion. "You… think it's brilliant?" he asked, his voice quieter now.

"Why, of course," Andy replied with a warm smile. "It's the most impressive cornfield I've ever seen. No one else could've created something like that. Right, Benji?" He scratched the dog's head, earning a small wag of the tail.

Donald's expression softened, though his posture remained tense. "Yeah. It is the best," he muttered, his gaze shifting to the ground.

Andy saw his opening and decided to keep the boy engaged. "You know, I bet everyone in town would be really impressed if they could see just how special it is. Maybe you could tell us more about it sometime?"

Donald's eyes lit up, the tension in the air dissipating slightly. "Maybe I will," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching into a hint of a smile.

Andy nodded, holding Benji close as he led Donald back toward the sheriff's office. Behind them, the streets of Mayberry remained unnervingly quiet, as if the entire town was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

Inside the sheriff's office, Donald allowed for the lights to come back on. He then requested that everyone start playing songs for him. Andy looked around and said, "We don't really have any instruments in here."

Donald said, "Look again." Suddenly, to everyone's amazement, there was a piano, a violin, and a harmonica in the office. "Start playing them," Donald demanded.

Floyd had completely lost his composure and said, "I can't take this anymore. I'm out of here." Just as Floyd began to walk out the door, he was suddenly halted, completely frozen and unable to move. His skin began to turn a silvery color. When the transformation was finally done, Floyd looked like he had turned into the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz.

Donald gave everyone a distinct gaze. Without hesitation, everyone in the room began trying to play the instruments.

For a little while, everything was going perfectly fine as Donald enjoyed the attempts of the others to entertain him with the instruments. However, that changed when suddenly, Donald could hear someone playing bongos loudly outside the office. Just as Donald looked out the window to see who it was, Ace Ventura burst through the doors. He was still wearing a scarecrow outfit. Still playing the bongos, he said, "Why wasn't I invited to this shindig?"

He then showed a disappointed expression and added, "I see someone invited the Tin Man." Ace reached into his outfit, pulled out an oil can, and began oiling Floyd. As soon as Floyd was able to move, he bolted out the door, clanging down the street.

Donald was beside himself. "How did you escape my cornfield?" he demanded.

Ace grinned, tossing the bongos aside dramatically. "Oh, you mean your giant, 'biggest-and-best-ever' cornfield? Pfft. Child's play. Though, I must say, your corn is quite tasty," he added, spitting out a loose kernel from his mouth.

Donald's eyes narrowed. "Tell me how!"

Ace smirked. "Well, I started to say: up, up, down, down—oh, never mind." He waved it off dismissively, then gestured to his scarecrow attire. "By the way, thanks for the threads. I'm really digging the new look. Very avant-garde."

Donald became enraged at Ace's defiance. With a snap of Donald's fingers, a fireball began to form in his hand, his fiery red eyes glowing menacingly. "You're going to pay now, straw man!" he shouted.

Ace looked down and started patting his pockets again. "Pay? Didn't we just go over this?" he quipped. Just as Donald raised the fireball to strike, Ace appeared beside him with a large bucket of water. He poured it over Donald, extinguishing the flames instantly. "Boy's a bit of a hothead, isn't he?" Ace proclaimed with a grin. "We have to lower that fever!"

Donald sputtered, wiping water from his face, and his rage began to build again. But before he could summon another fireball, Ace splashed him with a second bucket of water. "Ah, ah, ah," Ace wagged his finger mockingly. "No playtime until you cool off, young man!"

Donald took a step back from Ace. "I think you would be more entertaining if you became a jack-in-the-box," Donald insisted.

Suddenly, there was a huge jack-in-the-box sitting inside the room and the lid was down. Everyone could hear Ace trying to say something through the box, but his voice sounded muffled. Andy acted as if he was going to try to open the box by turning the crank on the side, but Donald told him to leave it alone and that it was better off if he didn't open it. He then told everyone to get back to playing their instruments.

Seconds later, the crank on the jack-in-the-box began moving on its own. However, when the lid popped open, Ace never sprung out. Donald wasn't sure of what was going on, so he crept toward the box and peeked inside. When he did, a gigantic cream-pie smashed into his face. Ace popped up and said, "Gotcha!"

Before Donald could wipe the cream-pie off his face, he found himself being pulled into the box. "This will only take a second, folks!" Ace declared, closing the lid behind him.

The others in the room stood silent, trying to hear what was going on. They could hear whacking noises and Ace yelling, Bad boy. When Ace finally emerged, he was holding a large paddle in his hand. "Alrighty then! I bah-lah-lieve that's all, folks! I don't think Porky Pig is going to be giving us any more trouble."

As the group walked over and looked inside the box, Donald was no longer there. And in a flash, everything went back to normal. The entire town had power again; the giant cornfield had disappeared, and Floyd was no longer the tinman.

"How did you do it?" Andy asked in amazement, the others also eagerly awaiting Ace's answer.

"The boy simply needed an attitude adjustment," Ace replied. And then, with a menacing grin, "Now, where were we?" he asked, pulling out the bongos.

The others weren't quite sure what to do. Donald was a menace, yet Ace easily defeated him.

Ace's eyes turned a fiery red. "Well?"

Andy looked at the others and said, "I don't think he's playing around. We better start jamming."

And just like that, Ace grew a pleasant smile on his face as the town folk played his favorite songs.

"And so, we leave you with a chilling portrait of a small town, where the most dangerous inhabitant is a seemingly innocent child with a mind that can warp reality with a single thought. And then, an even stranger being emerged, just as odd and difficult to figure out. If you ever find yourself in Mayberry, North Carolina, remember to keep your thoughts pure, for even the slightest negativity could be your last. You've just stepped into... The Ventura Zone."