Chapter One

Star Attraction

“Such a pie!” Margie said, beaming at Peter’s creation.

“Picture perfect!” Betty echoed.

It was the annual work picnic for Stuff It, Corp. -- Margie Olaf’s envelope stuffing business. Despite spending twelve hours a day together, all five employees felt compelled to go; to skip it would beg the wrath of Margie.

“And the best part,” Margie said, “it tastes even better than it looks.”

“Ah, thanks,” said Pete.

Damn his pie, thought Bill. Bill stood behind Pete and cradled his own obligatory confection. Pete simply outshone him on all fronts. His nimble fingers. His damned ambidexterity. Good old Pete and his oh-so-delicious pastry.

“Pete, we’ll just put it here in the center of the table,” Margie said, moving Bill’s pie to the side. “Bill, you don’t mind if we just scoot your pie over here, do you? Just so we can really showcase Pete’s pie.”

“Sure,” Bill acquiesced.

“Yes, we’ll just move Pete’s right to the center … and yours right over here,” Betty said.

“Yeah,” Bill said. “Right next to the garbage can where it belongs.”

“Ah, Bill,” Betty protested. “No need for sour grapes--.”

“I’m just kidding-- Pete’s pie is just so great that it makes mine look like a big piece of—“

“Bill! That sarcastic streak of yours,” Margie chided.

“Yeah, buddy. It’s just pie,” Pete chimed in. “C’mon, I’m sure yours is great too.”

“Let’s try to have a nice picnic, Bill,” Margie said.

“Yes-- let’s just try,” Betty started, but then sniffed. “Hey, something smells amazing.”

“You’re right!” Margie said, “Is it bacon? Ed, you cooking bacon?”

“I haven’t even fired up the grill,” Ed yelled back.

“Over here. It’s coming from over here,” Margie said.

The five walked from the picnic table to a small clearing up a hill. And there lay a cat.

“So sweet,” Betty said.

The creature looked up, impossibly cute with slightly-too-large eyes. They were reaching, soulful eyes that regarded the five.

“I want to pet it,” Pete exclaimed. “I need to pet it.”

“Better not,” said Bill. “You don’t know that cat.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s fine,” Pete said.

Pete reached to touch it and, as his hand drew near, the cat’s eyes popped open, turning bright red. It’s mouth hissed out a screeching alarm.  Metal bars exploded from the ground and a cage fell from the trees. They were trapped.

“Dammit, Pete!” Bill yelled. Surely everyone could see this was Pete’s fault.

But Margie and Bettie and Ed and Pete were staring out through the bars in horror as something dark descended and swallowed them whole.

A day later, they lay on the cold cell floor-- weary, unshaven, and hungry.

“Is it hell? Betty said. “Are we dead?”

“No, we’re going to be okay,” Pete chirped.

A door opened and out of the blinding flash a Very Tall Man emerged. He was smiling—an unrelenting, stiff, too forced and too happy smile. It made Bill nervous.

“Come,” he said, beckoning them to the light.

They emerged from the glare into a park—the very one from their picnic. As their eyes adjusted though, it seemed a little too perfect—fake and unreal. The Very Tall Man gestured to the picnic table.

“Home,” he said.

On the table, a large picnic basket. The VTM pressed a big button and a buzzer sounded “Bing!” He opened the basket—inside was a pie.

“Food,” he said.

He walked to a clearing. They followed. He pointed at the grass.

“Sleep.”

“On the ground?” Ed asked.

The VTM glared at Ed and then said, “Come.”

They walked up the hill at the top of which was a small pavilion. It looked like a stage and the VTM began to move his arms and legs in a pantomime of dancing.

“Dance,” he said. They stared dumbly. “Dance.”

Pete immediately danced flashing a broad smile.

“Come,” said the VTM, satisfied, and they followed him back to the picnic table. A snarling menace crossed his face. “Relax.”

And at that, the VTM walked away, disappearing into the trees. The chirping of birds and chattering kuks of squirrels stopped. Then it started again. Everyone looked at each other, scared and confused.

Huddled together on the grass, the five watched as the light ebbed and night came, filled with the hoots and rustles of unseen animals. No one could sleep. When the morning broke, the VTM walked out of the woods and beckoned to them. The helpless sheep followed. They went to the Pavilion and danced. And then back to the picnic table for pie.

It continued like this for a number of days. Sleep, dance, pie.  Bill didn’t want to keep track but Betty announced what day it was every morning. Fatigue wore them down and by the fourth night, they all passed out on the grass in a slumbering heap.

“I’m not this guy’s monkey,” said Ed as they walked to the pavilion.

“Come on, Eddy-- buck up!” Pete said.

“Screw that, Pete,” Ed said.

“Dance,” said the VTM.

“Not likely,” Eddy answered.

The VTM glowered at Eddy but Eddy just stood there. The others grew worried.

“Dance!” the VTM insisted.

Eddy still did nothing and the VTM pointed at Eddy. An electric blue arc raced between the VTM and Eddy –BZZZZZT!-- and Eddy kicked with jerks of pain.

“Dance!”

“No!”

BZZZZT!

“Dance!”

“No!”

BZZZZT!

It was excruciating to watch but Ed refused to submit. Desperate, Peter burst on to the stage and erupted into an explosive combo of swing, lindy hop, and merengue. He was the center of attention and the torture and everything else froze. In a show-stopping blend of capoeira and tap, Pete landed on the stage and the forest burst out in flashes. Peter stood, breathing hard and covered in sweat.

“What was that?” Bill demanded from Peter as they walked down the hill.

“I don’t know-- had to distract him from Eddy,” Peter said, smiling.

“Yeah, that worked out great,” Bill said, as the VTM dragged stunned Eddy into the woods.

“Bill! You gotta think positive.”

“I’m positive we’re screwed.”

“That’s not helping anyone, Bill,” Margie said.

“Eddy’s going to be okay,” said Betty.

“Bill, maybe you better sleep out here tonight,” Pete said.

“Yes,” Margie agreed. “So negative.”

Pete, Betty and Margie left Bill alone, banished from the slumber pile. Stupid Pete, he thought. He picked up one of the stones and threw it angrily into the darkening night. It ricocheted off a tree and hit the Big Button on the picnic table. “Bing!”

A pie appeared. But the lid jammed. Bill reached for a stick and forced it into the latch, prying it open. He peered inside and, after a moment of thought, crawled in.

“Bing!”

The next morning, Bill crawled out, covered in pie drippings and crust.

“Bill—you’re alive!” yelled Peter. “We thought we lost you, buddy!”

Pete, Margie, and Betty helped Bill out of the picnic basket. He looked up at them.

“We’re in a zoo!” he whispered.

“A zoo?” Margie asked.

“Yes. Last night I crawled into this food hatch. There was a long tunnel. Eventually it led to a corridor. I walked down it and saw a window. I looked. There was a room filled with… Very Tall Men and Women and Kids! They were watching another group of dancers! Some kind of creatures! In a cage! Just like us.”

“A zoo?” whimpered Betty.

“They watch us dance,” Bill continued. “Those flashes are from cameras—when they see something they like.”

“Oh my-- it is hell,” cried Betty.

“I followed the garbage,” Bill continued. “They take it out to these huge rockets. Which blast off, leaving the planet.”

“A way out,” said Pete. “We’d have a chance. If we can just sneak out and get on one of those rockets.”

“Good plan, Pete!” said Margie.

“Yes, Peter!” said Betty.

“Good plan, Peter?” Bill started, but then they heard the rustling off trees and the VTM was approaching.

 “Look,” Bill said. “You three climb down. I’ll distract him.”

“What? We’re not leaving—“ Pete said.

“Yes—without me. Go—there’s no time,” Bill insisted and the three pushed themselves into the picnic basket hatch.

“We’ll come back for you,” Peter said.

“Ok-- if you can,” Bill said. He closed the lid just as the VTM approached.

“Just me this time,” Bill said. “Everybody else is sleeping. The show must go on, right?”

Indifferent, the VTM escorted Bill to the Pavilion. As Bill ascended the stage, the full weight of his decision began to press on him. Why did he do that? Because he was a self-sacrificing martyr? No. He continued to dance, starting to get into it. Because that rocket was full of trash and we usually don’t send our garbage anywhere good? Maybe. He leapt into the center of the stage, arms raised as a series of flashes filled the forest.

No, he thought. It was simple: now I’m the star attraction at the human zoo. Stupid Pete.