Led Zepplin VII
A man emerged from behind the tree and gave them a shy wave. He walked towards the group and bumped into a moose. The moose snorted at him. He smiled at it and waved to it slightly. The animal suddenly found a collection of moss on the side of rock very interesting and went to investigate.
The man walked towards the group of people. He was a rather plain looking man, slightly balding and squinting as if he needed glasses. The suite he wore was rumpled, with an old sauce stain on the bottom right side of it, which he had unsuccessfully attempted to hide by tucking it in.
He got closer and waved shyly again. “Uh, hello,” he said quietly. “Doug here.”
“Who's Doug?” the woman from the boat asked. “Me?”
“Ah, no, that would be a silly name for a woman. No, my name is Doug.”
He puffed his cheeks slightly, lost from the question. “Well, I was born with it, I guess, and it sort of stuck, you know...people calling me and all that...” He paused. “Oh...my. You don't even know your names, do you? I'm sorry...where ever are my manners.” He pulled out a manila folder, opened it and leafed through it. He began handing out papers from the folder. “Randy. Mark. Mary. Jackie. Stephanie...” He spoke each of the names as he handed them to the respective person.
The woman from the boat took hers when her name, Janis, was called. She looked at the paper. It contained nothing but her name and her picture.
She held the paper up. “What is this supposed to be?”
He smiled. “That is your identification. See?” He pointed at the paper. “There is your picture. And your name.”
Doug cleared his throat. “Well...no...not for the time being.”
She rolled her eyes. “Nice.” She stared at him, hard. He shifted uncomfortably. “Where did we come from?”
“OK, that rings a bell. And, we are still on Earth.”
“Well, yes. And no. You see, we...uh...we kind of destroyed Earth.”
“Kind of?”
“We destroyed Earth.”
“We...uh...I hit the delete key when I shouldn't have.”
Doug nodded slowly.
“Well, we re-created Earth. Then, we recreated all of the creatures and stuff, like rivers and mountains and lakes and fjords and stuff. Then, we recreated you.”
“All of us?”
“Uh, no. Right now, we have recreated .000023 percent of the human population. But, we are working on the rest of it.”
“I see.” She was silent for a moment. “And I remember nothing about anything because...”
“We, uh, did not have your memories in storage.”
“She stared at him for a moment. “You are all a bunch of idiots, you know it?”
“I notice you use that word very freely.”
“It seems to fit, like, everyone.”
They heard a person clearing their throat behind them. They turned, to see a man dressed in a slightly nicer suit, standing very rigidly, looking at them with expectation. A deer gently nestled in one of his pockets, searching for whatever it is deer look for when they gently nestle into one's pockets.
“Oh! Mr. Hamilton!” Doug rushed over and began waving his hands at the animal. “Shoo...shoo!” The animal looked at him with disinterest for a couple of moments, then slowly moved off to a particularly juicy looking flower.
“Mr Hamilton,” Doug continued. “I did not expect you would be here.” He turned to the displaced Earthlings. “Folks, this is Mr. Hamilton, one of my many supervisors, many times removed. He is one of the senior Vice Presidents of fungi, making sure they are adequately populated and distributed throughout this pla...”
Mr. Hamilton cleared his throat. “Doug...we need to talk.”
The two disappeared into thin air, much to the surprise of the 212 displaced Earthlings standing behind the building. The deer, on the other hand, was much more interested in the contents of the pockets of a man named Norm.
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