Weeding the Garden

"My grandpa was my idol until I found out..."

Weeding the Garden

Approx 1,832 words

Tom Dennis wasn't my real grandfather. Grandma Gwen had been widowed when I was only two, and married Grandpa Tom when I was six. Grandpa used to take me on frequent walks. We'd talk a lot, visit the park and he always had money for me to go on the rides or play the video games in the arcade.

I was nearly eight when I first saw him "weeding the garden," as he called it. Two bully types were beating up on a younger boy in an effort to get whatever allowance his folks had given him. Grandpa Tom looked around furtively and then, satisfied he wasn't being observed by anyone but me, held his right palm forward as though he were about to bestow a gift upon the would-be theives.

An intense ball of blue-white light about the size of a ping-pong ball slowly left his palm and headed for the young delinquents, growing in size and intensity as it moved through the air within the dimly lighted arcade. When it reached the boys there was a brilliant arc such as I had seen when watching construction workers welding the steel girders for a new building and suddenly, the boys vanished, leaving their intended victim bewildered and amazed!

"Let that be a lesson to you, Dan," he said to me. "Every garden has weeds which must be eliminated for a productive harvest. The gardener has to chop the weeds in his garden to allow flowers, fruits or vegetables to reach their full potential. Those two boys were well on their way to becoming powerful weeds in the garden of humanity. It is better for society that they should be quickly removed before they can cause irreparable harm."

I was quick to agree with Grandpa Tom, as Henry and Tubbo had forced me to hand over my small allowance just last month. There had been no blood, bone and gristle; no bodies cluttering the floor. Just poof! as the boys vanished. Hey, this was totally cool! What a neat way to get rid of the school-yard bullies who picked on the little kids. I was certainly proud to have Grandpa Tom for my grandfather and I knew some day, I would grow up to be just like him! I might even become a super-hero like Batman, or Superman, or the Fantastic Four as I weeded the garden, just like Grandpa Tom.

When school began that year, I entered third grade. I know I'm a runt, barely over 55 pounds and I never get chosen to play on any of the teams, but I didn't let that bother me. Secretly I would take aim on the bullies who needed weeding and practice throwing that ball of intense light at them. The only problem, it never worked. I figured the power could come to me when I grew older, sort of like whiskers and girl-friends and driving a car, and I couldn't wait! (For the power, not the whiskers and girl-friends!)

Grandpa Tom and Grandma Gwen bought a motor-home that year and spent their retirement traveling the country and visiting distant members of the Kersin clan. Every time they returned to Midvale, Grandpa Tom and I would continue our afternoon or evening walks while we talked. I never imagined he was molding my character and the man I would grow up to be.

One Thursday evening, just as we turned off Lemon Ave onto Chestnut, Grandpa spotted some street punks selling some drugs to a lady in a battered Toyota. It was shortly after dusk but the street lights hadn't come on yet. One of the punks glanced in our direction but paid no attention to an old man out with a young boy, we were definitely harmless. Grandpa sized them up carefully then extended his hand. Just like I had seen in the past, that tiny ball of lightning slowly advanced on the punks, now motionless and surprised like rabbits caught in the headlights of a speeding car. The light envolped them and the girl in the car. Poof! The street was deserted with only the sputterint and chuffing engine of the old Toyota to show where they had been.

"Drugs are the bane of civilization," Grandpa said. "Some pharmaceuticals are useful to fight illness and disease, Dan, but recreational drugs ruin the lives of individuals and waste money and resources treating the woefully stupid and pitiful members of society."

"Grandpa," I asked, "how old do I have to be before I can throw the lightning like you?"

"Lightning? Oh, you mean the de-moleculizer? Well, it's hard to say, Dan, perhaps in a few more years…" and he let it go at that.

But the power never came to me. Not in the fourth grade, or fifth. Not even when I eventually reached high-school and eventually began shaving my stubbly whiskers. I tried and tried, but the lightning still would not appear. Not even when Rusty Forster, the head jock and captain of the football team stole my girlfriend just weeks before the junior prom.

Rusty was a weasle, alright. Dozens of the high-school girls were panting to date him, and he would date them all a few times, but when he grew tired he would move on to the next foolish girl. I couldn't believe Cathy could not see him for what he was, but she fell for his routine. Every chance I got, I tried throwing the lightning at Rusty, but the power still eluded me. Two days before the prom, Rusty dumped Cathy and asked Jennifer to be his date. Cathy was so hurt and broken up, she was much too embarrassed to accept when I asked her.

Grandma and Grandpa were back in town for one of their frequent visits, and I was happy to be taking a walk with Grandpa once again. Shortly after Grandpa poofed! a young vandal applying grafitti to Mr. Doogan's Camelot Soft Ice-Cream Emporium, we turned onto Park Street and there were Rusty and Jennifer in line to buy tickets to the movie theater. Tonight's movie was a really drippy love story, and I knew Rusty had high hopes of getting Jennifer into the darkest corners of the second floor balcony where they could make out.

"Grandpa, will you get rid of that fellow before he gets into the theater?" I asked.

"Why, Dan?"

"He's a weed, Grandpa. He's on the football team and he only goes out with all the girls to prove he can have any girl he wants, then he dumps them. He's a really bad fellow, Grandpa. I'd do it myself, but I can't throw the lightning like you."

"And I suppose he took your young girlfriend too?" Grandpa observed.

"Well, yes…" I sheepishly admitted.

"I wish I could help you, Dan, but your fellow is only rude and stupid because of the way he treats others. He is not a detriment to society, only to himself. My kind have been sent here to help the people on Earth over come their faults and grow to maturity so they can join the peaceful races of the Galaxy. If we eliminated people just for being rude, we'd have to eliminate most of New York City. If we eliminated people for being stupid and greedy, we'd have to eliminate most of your government, and then where would you be?

"For some reason we don't understand, your kind feels every person has a place and a purpose and a right to life. You fight wars continually because you fail to seek out and destroy the trouble makers among you. You allow unending waste, death, and destruction and delude yourself into thinking these villains will be punished in an afterlife.

"Well, you can't afford to do that, Dan. If a dog is rabid, you destroy it lest it infect others. If a foot be gangrenous, the surgeon must amputate before the patient dies. We are the surgeons to the human race, Dan. We don't want you to cease to exist before your species can take your rightful place in the Galaxy."

"You mean… you mean you're an alien?" I stammered.

"You surprise me, Dan, I had given you credit for more intelligence than that. Have you ever known another human who could control the de-moleculizer force? Have you ever heard of one?"

I wondered why Grandpa was being so frank with me. Did this mean he had decided I was one of those who must be weeded?

"Not exactly," I admitted, "unless you believe those stupid weekly's at the checkout stands in the super-market."

"Yes, some of my kind have been a little careless and occasionally their stories get into print, but no one takes them seriously. That's why I don't mind telling you this now; because no one will ever believe you if you repeat the story."

"Then what's going to happen, Grandpa?"

"We hope our actions have had enough impact upon your race to stop the downward cycle of de-evolution, Dan. It's time for us to leave this planet, there are other worlds where our presence is required. Perhaps some of us will be permitted to return one day to check on your progress. We hope we will not return to a wasted planet where all life has been destroyed.

"You have the opportunity to grow and assist your people in their maturity, Dan. Perhaps in a few millennia, your kind will be able to appreciate the power, but now you don't have the capacity to share it, nor the time to waste trying to use it."

My grandpa was my idol until I found out he was an alien. Grandpa left the next day, and I never saw him again. I quit worrying about the Rusty Forster's of the world; instead I spent my college years learning about the great philosopher's in history. You know, it really wasn't hard to spot the trouble-makers of the world. Any pragmatist could look back and see where untold amounts of money and lives had been wasted, either attacking productive nations, or defending against the attackers. It was only necessary to admit to yourself the world would be better off without Ghengis Kahn, Joseph Stalin, Adolph Hitler, Charlie Manson, Jefferey Dahmer, and the likes.

I never did develop Grandpa's de-moleculizer power, but I did develop my own power after nearly thirty years. Only two weeks ago, my election as UN Secretary General had been confirmed. I learned early in my education, no single nation can bring forth the changes which need to be made to benefit our race, but I am ready to make changes now. Slowly, quietly, but firmly, my forces are spreading across the nations of the world and our power is becoming stronger as we do so.

I'm sorry if you feel our methods are uncommonly harsh, but the age of the molly-coddlers has ended and the weeds are going to the compost heap. You're not one of the weeds, are you?