The Firefly Field Theory

|7| Everybody's Prone to Epic Failiocitis: Part II

PART II:

Looking at the place I can say for a fact that the f's in F.O.D has to be 'field'. I, Sherlock homes figured this out by just one simple fact, at present we stand in a field. A very ugly one for that matter. Rays of sunshine bounce off the green blades in random confusion lightening up the midday morning. The scene happens to be anything but beautiful. It is a disastrous display depicting the after effects of the casual approach, with green spaghetti sprouting in profusion. It seems like a place nobody visits or cares to maintain. But a certain nut head chooses to drag me, no, drop me here when I am experiencing a day as messed up as this grassland. It is so un-kept it looks like a padded floor or carpet, with dandelions peeking up from their hideouts in the dense vegetation. The scene isn't even remotely attractive yet I can't stop the awe that swells up inside me. Maybe beauty isn't the only thing that captivates us when we look at a scene. Because we always have our personal tininess in perspective the expanse of the panorama enchants us much more than the scene itself. Our envy dresses in cloaks of fascination.

I look up at the secret door and it is a fairly above the Field.O.D, almost twice my height. She begins to walk and I follow, hoping she is going to tell me something, anything. But she takes her time, and adds to my pissed-off-ness.

"First of, what this place really is, some construction company bought this land about two years ago with hopes of expanding the housing colony, it stretches about fifty-something hectares, but as you can see nothing really happened." she says. Something tells me she isn't the kind of person who likes to talk too much. But when she does, it seems like she picks her words with meticulous care. Like she wants to sound perfect. Like she wants to be perfect. Why would anybody want the impossible?

"Maybe the grass intimidated them." I suggest.

She keeps walking and then points to something, I adjust my gaze to the direction her finger points in, my eyes set on what seems to be the bald patch on this hairy green scalp. From where we are standing it looks like a barren circle, free of all the green crazy grass blades. We keep walking to it and she says, "Not really, they will use it, they probably poured down some chemicals somewhere in the center and let them handle the grass, since they probably figured they couldn't set fire to it because people live close by."

When we finally reach the deserted circle of chemicals, I finally dare to ask, "So what is the F.O.D?"

"The Field of Damns" she says turning to me, studying my expression again.

"The what?" a giggle escapes my mouth and I cover it up with, "where do you come up with things like that?"

"Go ahead laugh, it's stupid. But save some for when I start explaining why, that's when it gets really bizarre and funny."

"How do you know of this field of damns?" I air quote it and barely suppress my laughter while she smiles a little too.

"Omi told me about it, he named it and I'll admit I thought it was stupid too."

"Who's Omi?" I ask.

"His name is Omar, he is a childhood friend of ours and he..." she leaves the sentence and bites down her lip with an expression of embarrassment. I stare at her waiting for her to finish although I have a vague feeling I have seen this expression before.

"I happen to hold his personality in the highest ranks of regard, esteem, reverence and fondness."

Her words bounce off the blades and my mind begins to process them.

I get nothing at first. So I say "What?"

It takes me a moment to decipher it, but the bulb in my brain lights up and I get there eventually, tough she obviously didn't want me to.