Categories > Cartoons > Paradise PD
The Paradise PD tells stories of their childhoods in a campfire. One of which takes the cake.
0Unrated
Paradise PD
Fanfic Title:
Campfire Stories
By: Hailey Sands
Chapter One:
At the Paradise PD Station one night. A meager campfire crackles in an oil drum in the middle of the bullpen. The usual suspects are gathered around, nursing various cheap beverages.
Kevin: (grinning, holding a can of "Beer Light") ...and that’s when I knew. Even at five. I was meant for greatness. My serial killer mailman costume? Ahead of its time. My mom, dad, they didn’t get it. They thought the fake blood on the mailbag was “disturbing.” But I was just living my truth. A truth that delivered death, one envelope at a time. I'm not talking about The Postman!
Randall (sighing, takes a long swig) My childhood? It was an S.O.S. for therapy. I spent every Saturday morning on a manhunt for my dignity, usually after I'd been ‘pranked’ by an bully kid neighbor who thought it was funny to steal my trousers. Like a cheap, suburban version of a Looney Tunes cartoon, but with alcoholism. And less talking animals, more screaming adults.
Dusty (tears welling) I... I remember running through a field of wheat and falling in love with a scarecrow. I thought he was my real dad, like the ending of a really weird Disney movie, only less magical and more sexually confusing. We almost eloped. Then the farmer shot him. Said he was "attracting too many crows."
Stanley (grunts) All I remember is the crushing weight of responsibility and the smell of cheap hairspray. My childhood was less like a dream and more like a never-ending C-SPAN broadcast. And everyone wanted a haircut from me. Everyone.
Bullet: My fondest memory is a burying a sock puppet. Turned out to be a condom!
Randall (laughs) He says his fondest memory is burying a sock puppet. It was the only time he felt truly 'seen' by a fibrous friend. And it had a better personality than Kevin.
Gina (tilts her head, genuinely confused) Wait, childhood? Oh, right. I was in that coma. Like Sleeping Beauty, only instead of a kiss, I woke up because I heard a sound that reminded me of a really loud explosion. takes a proud swig of her beer So, I win! Zero trauma, straight to fully-formed adult craziness! Suckers!
Fitz (nudges Thester, who is meticulously stirring his herbal tea with a twig) Come on, Thester. Spill the tea. What trauma birthed the man who loves spreadsheets and hates Tuesdays? Tell us about little Thester.
Thester (visibly shrinks, puts down his twig) I... I grew up in a place called "The Golden Meadow of Inner Peace." It was a commune. In the London countryside.
Dusty: He’s the desk clerk at Paradise PD, but this is the first time anyone’s heard him talk about his past.
Fitz (raises an eyebrow) A commune? That explains why you were a gambling con artist back in the day! Were there, like, flower crowns and mandatory group hugs?
Thester: Worse. My father, "Papa Solstice," ran it. He was a ruthless tyrant disguised as a peaceful guru. It was like Midsommar, but with worse fashion choices and even more confusing rules about sharing tools.
A flashback ensues. A five-year-old Thester stands in a circle of barefoot adults chanting around a compost pile. He’s holding a tofu brick like it’s a teddy bear. His mother, a kind-eyed woman in a tie-dye poncho, whispers to him.
Mother: If anything happens to me, follow the scent of real cheese. It’ll lead you to civilization.
Flashback ends.
Thester (voice cracking) My mother... she wasn't a big fan of "Papa Solstice's" philosophies. When I was five, she was... mauled by a wolf. It was a very isolated area. He told everyone she ascended to a higher plane. I think he just didn't want the paperwork.
The fire crackles. The entire PD is silent, momentarily sobered by the raw tragedy. Even Kevin looks a little less punchable.
Fitz (whispering) Thester... I... that's messed up.
Thester: It explains why I am the way I am, Fitz. Years of mandatory tofu, mandatory nudity, and mandatory suspicion of all authority. I just want... closure.
Chapter Two:
The next day. Fitz had Dusty, Gina, Thester, Randall, and Kevin board a plane to London. Bullet and Stanley stayed behind to watch over Paradise PD headquarters. Fitz rented a squad car. The squad car being driven by Randall somehow, is crossing the London countryside. It's packed. Kevin is playing a terrible podcast loudly.
Randall (annoyed): Remind me again why we're on an international field trip to blow up Thester's childhood home? This is way beyond our jurisdiction.
Fitz: Closure, Randall! Thester needs closure. And I need an excuse to use this brand-new, completely illegal lava lamp I bought online. The listing said "industrial strength."
Kevin: I just wanna see some English bobbies. I bet their hats are perfect for holding extra bullets. For my serial killer mailman persona, of course.
Gina (staring out the window) Do they have sexy fat dudes in England? Asking for a friend. That friend is me.
Thester: (pointing ahead, a tremor in his voice) There it is. "The Golden Meadow of Inner Peace." It looks... exactly the same. Like time forgot it, then remembered it, and decided to punish it.
Thanks to the GPS System. Randall was able to track down the Golden Meadow of Inner Peace. The commune is a collection of ramshackle wooden buildings, overgrown gardens, and faded psychedelic murals. An old, unkempt man with a long, white beard, wearing only a linen tunic, is tending a suspiciously large marijuana patch. It is Papa Solstice.
Papa Solstice. (looks up, squints) Thester! My little "star-seed"! Did you bring the lentils I asked for 20 years ago? And perhaps a new chakra crystal? This one has a crack.
Thester (gritting his teeth, holding a rusty shovel he found in the car) I brought closure, "Papa Solstice"! And a shovel!
Another flashback intensifies as Thester looks into his fathers eyes. It was the Commune Schoolhouse in the year 1995.
A dimly lit room with walls painted in faded mandalas and motivational phrases like “Silence Is the Loudest Wisdom” and “Math Is a Tool of Oppression.” Young THESTER, age six, sits cross-legged on a woven hemp mat. He’s surrounded by other children, all wearing identical linen tunics and flower crowns that itch visibly.
At the front of the room stands Papa Solstice, holding a tambourine and a jar labeled “Emotional Release Pebbles.”
Papa Solstice: Today, children, we learn about the sacred geometry of feelings. No numbers. No letters. Just vibes.
Young Thester (timidly raising his hand) Papa Solstice, may I use a pencil? I want to draw a triangle. It makes me feel... safe.
Papa Solstice (gasps, drops tambourine) A triangle? That’s a capitalist shape! Three points of control! You must draw with your soul, not your hand.
He hands Thester a clump of wet moss.
Papa Solstice: Use this. It’s what the Earth Mother gave us. And remember: no erasing. Erasing is denial.
Young Thester (whispers) I miss my mom.
Papa Solstice (smiling eerily) She’s with the wolves now, child. She runs free in the astral forest. You should be proud.
Young Thester (clutching the moss, eyes watering) I just wanted to learn multiplication.
Papa Solstice: Multiplication is a gateway drug to spreadsheets. And spreadsheets are the devil’s napkins.
Chapter Three:
Out of the flashback now. Randall tells about his plan.
Randall: (stepping forward, adjusting his uniform) We're here for two things: justice for a five-year-old's traumatizing 'wolf attack,' and to reclaim the $500 reward on that antique wheelbarrow you clearly stole from the Paradise Elementary School bake sale in '97. We've been building that case for years!
Papa Solstice (chuckles, a sinister glint in his eye) Whatever the hell you just said didn't make sense! Anyway, The 'wolf' was just a symbol, son. A symbol of the wild, untamed spirit that couldn't handle true inner peace. And that wheelbarrow was a gift from the Earth Mother!
Kevin (pulls out his taser) Listen, old man. I’m an American cop. Which means I’m allowed to do whatever I want. Where’s the tea? The real tea.
A bunch of Hippies were going after Gina.
Gina: Stand back, twat waffles! Or you'll feel the wrath of my whip!
The hippies back off.
Dusty: (sees a garden gnome) He’s real! Oh my God, the scarecrow sent me a message!
Suddenly, Papa Solstice lunges at Randall, who is distracted by Dusty’s meltdown, and quickly snatches RANDALL’s trousers, disappearing behind a shed.
Randall: (exasperated, in his boxers) My trousers! Again! This is just like the time with Old Man Henderson and the prize-winning petunias!
Fitz: (pulls out a comically large lava lamp from the squad car's trunk. It pulses with an ominous, purple glow) Alright, Thester. Ready for some real closure? This isn't just a lava lamp. It's a statement. A statement of molten, groovy destruction.
Thester: (a crazed smile spreading across his face) Do it, Fitz. Let the inner peace... explode!
Chapter Four:
Another flashback this time in 1997. Young Thester sits at a long table, surrounded by silent adults eating raw kale. A sign above reads: “No Laughter After Moonrise” He reaches for a crayon. Papa Solstice slaps it away.
Papa Solstice: Creativity is a capitalist illusion, child.
Back to the present. Fitz and Thester grab the lava lamp. It's heavier than it looks. They awkwardly carry it toward the main commune building.
Randall: (shouting from behind the shed, still trouser-less) Wait! Don't blow up my chances of getting my pants back! And that wheelbarrow!
Kevin: (trying to taser a chicken) So much for this.
Fitz was about to throw the lava lamp. Thester is distracted by yet another flashback.
A full moon hangs over the commune. Children and adults gather in a circle around a bonfire made of old yoga mats and broken tambourines. Everyone is humming in dissonant harmony. Young Thester, age 10 stands beside PAPA SOLSTICE, wearing a ceremonial robe made from recycled curtains.
Papa Solstice (raising a gourd filled with beet juice) Tonight, we summon the spirit of “Zarnok the Peace Lizard” to cleanse our chakras and banish the ghost of capitalism. Let the ritual of the sacred squawk begin!
Young Thester (whispers to the child next to him) I thought we were just lighting candles.
Papa Solstice: Silence, Star-Seed! The squawk must be pure!
The Members of the Commune watch as Papa Solstice blows into a conch shell. It emits a sound that somehow causes three chickens to faint.
Commune Members: (chanting) Zarnok! Zarnok! Zarnok!
Suddenly, a large papier-mâché lizard head is wheeled into the circle on a squeaky wagon. It’s covered in glitter and smells faintly of patchouli and regret.
Papa Solstice: Thester, you must feed Zarnok the offering. Only then will your aura be cleansed.
Young Thester: (holding a bowl of fermented lentils) Do I have to? It smells like feet and sadness.
Papa Solstice: FEED THE LIZARD, CHILD!
Young Thester reluctantly approaches the papier-mâché head and dumps the lentils into its mouth. The wagon immediately collapses, and the head rolls into the bonfire.
Commune Members (gasping) Zarnok is ANGRY!
The flames turn green. A nearby drum explodes. A goat screams.
Papa Solstice (panicking) Everyone! Remove your shoes and chant backwards! We must reverse the squawk!
Young Thester: (crying) I just wanted to play like normal kids...
Papa Solstice: Just for that, son! (Whistles)
The goat chases Young Thester around the yard. Then the goat brings back Young Thester as Papa Solstice beats him.
Back to the present. Both Fitz and Thester throw the lava lamp into the hippie commune. Turns out it was an explosive lava lamp. The Golden Meadow of Inner Peace was no more. Papa Solstice and all the hippies inside were dead.
Thester (staring at the ruins, voice hollow) They blamed me for Zarnok’s wrath. I was banned from lentils for a year. And I still flinch when I hear conch shells.
Fitz: (solemnly) That explains the spreadsheet obsession. You crave order. You fear papier-mâché reptiles.
Thester: Exactly. Closure isn’t just about blowing up buildings. It’s about finally being able to eat lentils without crying.
Chapter Five:
After a long flight back to the United States.The squad car pulls into the station parking lot, sputtering and covered in ash, glitter, and what might be bits of exploded commune. The crew piles out, each looking like they’ve survived a psychedelic war zone.
Kevin: (stretching, holding a bobbie hat filled with loose bullets) Home sweet chaos. I missed the smell of stale donuts and unresolved HR complaints.
Gina: Turns out, Hippies aren't so peaceful. And yet they were scared shitless when I threatened them!
Dusty: (cradling his gnome, whispering to it) Sir Crumbles says we’re soul-bound now. He’s teaching me how to speak crow. I think I’m finally healing.
Randall: (still wearing the Union Jack as a makeshift kilt) I lost my pants, my dignity, and my best wheelbarrow lead. But I gained... a rash. And possibly a criminal record in the UK.
Fitz: (placing the empty lava lamp shell on the evidence shelf like a sacred relic) That lava lamp didn’t just explode—it transformed. It’s now a symbol of emotional warfare. I’m writing a memoir: Groovy Vengeance: The Fitz Chronicles.
Thester: (dusty, smiling, placing a charred piece of commune wood on his desk) I faced my past. I blew up my trauma. And I finally filed a report without crying. (He glances at the PD’s flickering fluorescent lights) This place may be insane, but it’s my kind of insane.
Kevin: (cracking open a warm Beer Light) To closure, chaos, and questionable international diplomacy!
Everyone Cheers!
Chapter Six:
The next day. Kevin and Fitz. sit at the table, surrounded by half-eaten donuts and a suspiciously glowing lava lamp. Thester enters, clutching a mug of mocha and looking unusually contemplative.
Kevin: (mouth full of donut) Hey, desk wizard. You look like someone who just remembered their childhood had a soundtrack of goat screams.
Fitz (sipping coffee) You okay, Thester? You’ve been quiet since the commune kaboom. Closure hangover?
Thester (sits down slowly) I never told you how I escaped. How I got out of the Golden Meadow. It wasn’t just a walk in the wheat.
One final flashback that takes place in 2005. A teenage Thester, dressed in a burlap hoodie and hemp shoes made from recycled yoga mats, tiptoes past a row of sleeping commune members. One of them snores in Sanskrit. He clutches a duffel bag filled with forbidden items: a calculator, a pair of jeans, and a single slice of cheddar cheese.
Thester (voiceover) I had been planning it for months. Saving scraps of logic, hoarding forbidden dairy. I knew if I stayed, I’d become Papa Solstice’s heir. His “Star-Seed Supreme.” I couldn’t live like that. I wanted... pants.
Suddenly, a wind chime explodes. Papa Soltice appears from the shadows, riding a unicycle made of driftwood.
Papa Solstice: Where are you going, child? The moon hasn’t approved your departure!
Thester: I’m leaving, Papa. I’m going to a place where tofu isn’t mandatory and people wear socks!
Papa Solstice: You’ll never survive in the outside world! They have... taxes!
Thester: I’ll take my chances.
Throwing a handful of glitter into Papa’s eyes. Thester bolts into the night, dodging flamingos and tripping over a meditation drum.
The flashback ends.
Thester: (quietly) I ran until I hit a gas station. The clerk gave me a Mountain Dew and a plane ticket to the United States. When I applied for citizenship, as it turned out my Dad was originally from America. So I was a citizen all along. Then I went to community college where I studied to be a lab tech. Then I gave up on it when I got into street gambling in community college.
Kevin (tearing up) That’s... beautiful. You escaped a cult with cheese and glitter. You’re like a lactose-intolerant ninja.
Fitz: (nods solemnly) You didn’t just escape, Thester. You evolved. From Star-Seed, to a college student. Then a street gambling con artist. And now you're here as a desk clerk. Reformed.
Thester (smiling) Thanks, guys. Especially you Fitz. If you never found me. I'd be in prison. I may be weird, but I’m your kind of weird.
They clink mugs—tea, coffee, and donut glaze. The lava lamp pulses gently in the background, like a glowing reminder of the trauma they blew up together. Paradise PD station glows under the moonlight—still standing, still dysfunctional, and somehow, still a family.
Chapter Seven Conclusion:
Six Months Later. Mosquitoes buzz. A faded sign reads: “COMING SOON: THE SWAMP OF ETERNAL VIBES – A Papa Solstice Sanctuary”
A rickety wooden dock leads to a half-built commune made of driftwood, pool noodles, and suspiciously stolen tiki bar furniture. A gator lounges beside a pile of chakra crystals. As it turned out, Papa Soltice survived and escaped to Florida.
Papa Solstice (emerging from a hammock, wearing Randall’s stolen trousers and a crown made of palm fronds) Ahhh... Florida. The land of freedom, humidity, and zero zoning laws. (He pets the gator) You, my scaly friend, shall be the new Zarnok. And this time... no children with moss.
Rising a conch shell, Papa Solstice blows into it. It emits a sound so disturbing, three flamingos faint.
Papa Solstice: (grinning) Let the vibes begin. And I will find you again one day Star-Seed!
The rest of the crew has gone home or passed out in various corners of the station. The lights are dim. Bullet lies on the couch, licking peanut butter off his paw. Stanley sits beside him, adjusting his toupee with a sigh.
Bullet: So they blow up a commune, survive a psychedelic explosion, and get a lava lamp redemption arc... and we get left behind?
Stanley: We volunteered to be left behind.
Bullet: Exactly! BUt still! How come we didn't hear what happened from Randall and the others! What about us? I’ve been here since the pilot! I’ve seen things. I’ve smelled things. I’ve been high on things.
Stanley: You’re right. We deserve our own episode. Something classy. Noir, maybe. You as the grizzled detective, me as the morally ambiguous barber with a dark past.
Bullet: You come up with the most insane ideas! We’ll call it... Bullet & The Blade: Scissors of Justice.
Stanley: Let’s pitch it to Netflix. Or at least the weird guy in the basement who keeps filming us with a GoPro.
Bullet: Nah I don't think so. Hulu maybe.
Stanley: Yeah, you’re right. He smells like glue and regret. But still—next time, we’re not just background noise. We’re the main event.
They both stare dramatically into the middle distance as the camera slowly zooms out.
Stanley and Bullet (in unison, shouting) WHAT ABOUT US?!
The End
Fanfic Title:
Campfire Stories
By: Hailey Sands
Chapter One:
At the Paradise PD Station one night. A meager campfire crackles in an oil drum in the middle of the bullpen. The usual suspects are gathered around, nursing various cheap beverages.
Kevin: (grinning, holding a can of "Beer Light") ...and that’s when I knew. Even at five. I was meant for greatness. My serial killer mailman costume? Ahead of its time. My mom, dad, they didn’t get it. They thought the fake blood on the mailbag was “disturbing.” But I was just living my truth. A truth that delivered death, one envelope at a time. I'm not talking about The Postman!
Randall (sighing, takes a long swig) My childhood? It was an S.O.S. for therapy. I spent every Saturday morning on a manhunt for my dignity, usually after I'd been ‘pranked’ by an bully kid neighbor who thought it was funny to steal my trousers. Like a cheap, suburban version of a Looney Tunes cartoon, but with alcoholism. And less talking animals, more screaming adults.
Dusty (tears welling) I... I remember running through a field of wheat and falling in love with a scarecrow. I thought he was my real dad, like the ending of a really weird Disney movie, only less magical and more sexually confusing. We almost eloped. Then the farmer shot him. Said he was "attracting too many crows."
Stanley (grunts) All I remember is the crushing weight of responsibility and the smell of cheap hairspray. My childhood was less like a dream and more like a never-ending C-SPAN broadcast. And everyone wanted a haircut from me. Everyone.
Bullet: My fondest memory is a burying a sock puppet. Turned out to be a condom!
Randall (laughs) He says his fondest memory is burying a sock puppet. It was the only time he felt truly 'seen' by a fibrous friend. And it had a better personality than Kevin.
Gina (tilts her head, genuinely confused) Wait, childhood? Oh, right. I was in that coma. Like Sleeping Beauty, only instead of a kiss, I woke up because I heard a sound that reminded me of a really loud explosion. takes a proud swig of her beer So, I win! Zero trauma, straight to fully-formed adult craziness! Suckers!
Fitz (nudges Thester, who is meticulously stirring his herbal tea with a twig) Come on, Thester. Spill the tea. What trauma birthed the man who loves spreadsheets and hates Tuesdays? Tell us about little Thester.
Thester (visibly shrinks, puts down his twig) I... I grew up in a place called "The Golden Meadow of Inner Peace." It was a commune. In the London countryside.
Dusty: He’s the desk clerk at Paradise PD, but this is the first time anyone’s heard him talk about his past.
Fitz (raises an eyebrow) A commune? That explains why you were a gambling con artist back in the day! Were there, like, flower crowns and mandatory group hugs?
Thester: Worse. My father, "Papa Solstice," ran it. He was a ruthless tyrant disguised as a peaceful guru. It was like Midsommar, but with worse fashion choices and even more confusing rules about sharing tools.
A flashback ensues. A five-year-old Thester stands in a circle of barefoot adults chanting around a compost pile. He’s holding a tofu brick like it’s a teddy bear. His mother, a kind-eyed woman in a tie-dye poncho, whispers to him.
Mother: If anything happens to me, follow the scent of real cheese. It’ll lead you to civilization.
Flashback ends.
Thester (voice cracking) My mother... she wasn't a big fan of "Papa Solstice's" philosophies. When I was five, she was... mauled by a wolf. It was a very isolated area. He told everyone she ascended to a higher plane. I think he just didn't want the paperwork.
The fire crackles. The entire PD is silent, momentarily sobered by the raw tragedy. Even Kevin looks a little less punchable.
Fitz (whispering) Thester... I... that's messed up.
Thester: It explains why I am the way I am, Fitz. Years of mandatory tofu, mandatory nudity, and mandatory suspicion of all authority. I just want... closure.
Chapter Two:
The next day. Fitz had Dusty, Gina, Thester, Randall, and Kevin board a plane to London. Bullet and Stanley stayed behind to watch over Paradise PD headquarters. Fitz rented a squad car. The squad car being driven by Randall somehow, is crossing the London countryside. It's packed. Kevin is playing a terrible podcast loudly.
Randall (annoyed): Remind me again why we're on an international field trip to blow up Thester's childhood home? This is way beyond our jurisdiction.
Fitz: Closure, Randall! Thester needs closure. And I need an excuse to use this brand-new, completely illegal lava lamp I bought online. The listing said "industrial strength."
Kevin: I just wanna see some English bobbies. I bet their hats are perfect for holding extra bullets. For my serial killer mailman persona, of course.
Gina (staring out the window) Do they have sexy fat dudes in England? Asking for a friend. That friend is me.
Thester: (pointing ahead, a tremor in his voice) There it is. "The Golden Meadow of Inner Peace." It looks... exactly the same. Like time forgot it, then remembered it, and decided to punish it.
Thanks to the GPS System. Randall was able to track down the Golden Meadow of Inner Peace. The commune is a collection of ramshackle wooden buildings, overgrown gardens, and faded psychedelic murals. An old, unkempt man with a long, white beard, wearing only a linen tunic, is tending a suspiciously large marijuana patch. It is Papa Solstice.
Papa Solstice. (looks up, squints) Thester! My little "star-seed"! Did you bring the lentils I asked for 20 years ago? And perhaps a new chakra crystal? This one has a crack.
Thester (gritting his teeth, holding a rusty shovel he found in the car) I brought closure, "Papa Solstice"! And a shovel!
Another flashback intensifies as Thester looks into his fathers eyes. It was the Commune Schoolhouse in the year 1995.
A dimly lit room with walls painted in faded mandalas and motivational phrases like “Silence Is the Loudest Wisdom” and “Math Is a Tool of Oppression.” Young THESTER, age six, sits cross-legged on a woven hemp mat. He’s surrounded by other children, all wearing identical linen tunics and flower crowns that itch visibly.
At the front of the room stands Papa Solstice, holding a tambourine and a jar labeled “Emotional Release Pebbles.”
Papa Solstice: Today, children, we learn about the sacred geometry of feelings. No numbers. No letters. Just vibes.
Young Thester (timidly raising his hand) Papa Solstice, may I use a pencil? I want to draw a triangle. It makes me feel... safe.
Papa Solstice (gasps, drops tambourine) A triangle? That’s a capitalist shape! Three points of control! You must draw with your soul, not your hand.
He hands Thester a clump of wet moss.
Papa Solstice: Use this. It’s what the Earth Mother gave us. And remember: no erasing. Erasing is denial.
Young Thester (whispers) I miss my mom.
Papa Solstice (smiling eerily) She’s with the wolves now, child. She runs free in the astral forest. You should be proud.
Young Thester (clutching the moss, eyes watering) I just wanted to learn multiplication.
Papa Solstice: Multiplication is a gateway drug to spreadsheets. And spreadsheets are the devil’s napkins.
Chapter Three:
Out of the flashback now. Randall tells about his plan.
Randall: (stepping forward, adjusting his uniform) We're here for two things: justice for a five-year-old's traumatizing 'wolf attack,' and to reclaim the $500 reward on that antique wheelbarrow you clearly stole from the Paradise Elementary School bake sale in '97. We've been building that case for years!
Papa Solstice (chuckles, a sinister glint in his eye) Whatever the hell you just said didn't make sense! Anyway, The 'wolf' was just a symbol, son. A symbol of the wild, untamed spirit that couldn't handle true inner peace. And that wheelbarrow was a gift from the Earth Mother!
Kevin (pulls out his taser) Listen, old man. I’m an American cop. Which means I’m allowed to do whatever I want. Where’s the tea? The real tea.
A bunch of Hippies were going after Gina.
Gina: Stand back, twat waffles! Or you'll feel the wrath of my whip!
The hippies back off.
Dusty: (sees a garden gnome) He’s real! Oh my God, the scarecrow sent me a message!
Suddenly, Papa Solstice lunges at Randall, who is distracted by Dusty’s meltdown, and quickly snatches RANDALL’s trousers, disappearing behind a shed.
Randall: (exasperated, in his boxers) My trousers! Again! This is just like the time with Old Man Henderson and the prize-winning petunias!
Fitz: (pulls out a comically large lava lamp from the squad car's trunk. It pulses with an ominous, purple glow) Alright, Thester. Ready for some real closure? This isn't just a lava lamp. It's a statement. A statement of molten, groovy destruction.
Thester: (a crazed smile spreading across his face) Do it, Fitz. Let the inner peace... explode!
Chapter Four:
Another flashback this time in 1997. Young Thester sits at a long table, surrounded by silent adults eating raw kale. A sign above reads: “No Laughter After Moonrise” He reaches for a crayon. Papa Solstice slaps it away.
Papa Solstice: Creativity is a capitalist illusion, child.
Back to the present. Fitz and Thester grab the lava lamp. It's heavier than it looks. They awkwardly carry it toward the main commune building.
Randall: (shouting from behind the shed, still trouser-less) Wait! Don't blow up my chances of getting my pants back! And that wheelbarrow!
Kevin: (trying to taser a chicken) So much for this.
Fitz was about to throw the lava lamp. Thester is distracted by yet another flashback.
A full moon hangs over the commune. Children and adults gather in a circle around a bonfire made of old yoga mats and broken tambourines. Everyone is humming in dissonant harmony. Young Thester, age 10 stands beside PAPA SOLSTICE, wearing a ceremonial robe made from recycled curtains.
Papa Solstice (raising a gourd filled with beet juice) Tonight, we summon the spirit of “Zarnok the Peace Lizard” to cleanse our chakras and banish the ghost of capitalism. Let the ritual of the sacred squawk begin!
Young Thester (whispers to the child next to him) I thought we were just lighting candles.
Papa Solstice: Silence, Star-Seed! The squawk must be pure!
The Members of the Commune watch as Papa Solstice blows into a conch shell. It emits a sound that somehow causes three chickens to faint.
Commune Members: (chanting) Zarnok! Zarnok! Zarnok!
Suddenly, a large papier-mâché lizard head is wheeled into the circle on a squeaky wagon. It’s covered in glitter and smells faintly of patchouli and regret.
Papa Solstice: Thester, you must feed Zarnok the offering. Only then will your aura be cleansed.
Young Thester: (holding a bowl of fermented lentils) Do I have to? It smells like feet and sadness.
Papa Solstice: FEED THE LIZARD, CHILD!
Young Thester reluctantly approaches the papier-mâché head and dumps the lentils into its mouth. The wagon immediately collapses, and the head rolls into the bonfire.
Commune Members (gasping) Zarnok is ANGRY!
The flames turn green. A nearby drum explodes. A goat screams.
Papa Solstice (panicking) Everyone! Remove your shoes and chant backwards! We must reverse the squawk!
Young Thester: (crying) I just wanted to play like normal kids...
Papa Solstice: Just for that, son! (Whistles)
The goat chases Young Thester around the yard. Then the goat brings back Young Thester as Papa Solstice beats him.
Back to the present. Both Fitz and Thester throw the lava lamp into the hippie commune. Turns out it was an explosive lava lamp. The Golden Meadow of Inner Peace was no more. Papa Solstice and all the hippies inside were dead.
Thester (staring at the ruins, voice hollow) They blamed me for Zarnok’s wrath. I was banned from lentils for a year. And I still flinch when I hear conch shells.
Fitz: (solemnly) That explains the spreadsheet obsession. You crave order. You fear papier-mâché reptiles.
Thester: Exactly. Closure isn’t just about blowing up buildings. It’s about finally being able to eat lentils without crying.
Chapter Five:
After a long flight back to the United States.The squad car pulls into the station parking lot, sputtering and covered in ash, glitter, and what might be bits of exploded commune. The crew piles out, each looking like they’ve survived a psychedelic war zone.
Kevin: (stretching, holding a bobbie hat filled with loose bullets) Home sweet chaos. I missed the smell of stale donuts and unresolved HR complaints.
Gina: Turns out, Hippies aren't so peaceful. And yet they were scared shitless when I threatened them!
Dusty: (cradling his gnome, whispering to it) Sir Crumbles says we’re soul-bound now. He’s teaching me how to speak crow. I think I’m finally healing.
Randall: (still wearing the Union Jack as a makeshift kilt) I lost my pants, my dignity, and my best wheelbarrow lead. But I gained... a rash. And possibly a criminal record in the UK.
Fitz: (placing the empty lava lamp shell on the evidence shelf like a sacred relic) That lava lamp didn’t just explode—it transformed. It’s now a symbol of emotional warfare. I’m writing a memoir: Groovy Vengeance: The Fitz Chronicles.
Thester: (dusty, smiling, placing a charred piece of commune wood on his desk) I faced my past. I blew up my trauma. And I finally filed a report without crying. (He glances at the PD’s flickering fluorescent lights) This place may be insane, but it’s my kind of insane.
Kevin: (cracking open a warm Beer Light) To closure, chaos, and questionable international diplomacy!
Everyone Cheers!
Chapter Six:
The next day. Kevin and Fitz. sit at the table, surrounded by half-eaten donuts and a suspiciously glowing lava lamp. Thester enters, clutching a mug of mocha and looking unusually contemplative.
Kevin: (mouth full of donut) Hey, desk wizard. You look like someone who just remembered their childhood had a soundtrack of goat screams.
Fitz (sipping coffee) You okay, Thester? You’ve been quiet since the commune kaboom. Closure hangover?
Thester (sits down slowly) I never told you how I escaped. How I got out of the Golden Meadow. It wasn’t just a walk in the wheat.
One final flashback that takes place in 2005. A teenage Thester, dressed in a burlap hoodie and hemp shoes made from recycled yoga mats, tiptoes past a row of sleeping commune members. One of them snores in Sanskrit. He clutches a duffel bag filled with forbidden items: a calculator, a pair of jeans, and a single slice of cheddar cheese.
Thester (voiceover) I had been planning it for months. Saving scraps of logic, hoarding forbidden dairy. I knew if I stayed, I’d become Papa Solstice’s heir. His “Star-Seed Supreme.” I couldn’t live like that. I wanted... pants.
Suddenly, a wind chime explodes. Papa Soltice appears from the shadows, riding a unicycle made of driftwood.
Papa Solstice: Where are you going, child? The moon hasn’t approved your departure!
Thester: I’m leaving, Papa. I’m going to a place where tofu isn’t mandatory and people wear socks!
Papa Solstice: You’ll never survive in the outside world! They have... taxes!
Thester: I’ll take my chances.
Throwing a handful of glitter into Papa’s eyes. Thester bolts into the night, dodging flamingos and tripping over a meditation drum.
The flashback ends.
Thester: (quietly) I ran until I hit a gas station. The clerk gave me a Mountain Dew and a plane ticket to the United States. When I applied for citizenship, as it turned out my Dad was originally from America. So I was a citizen all along. Then I went to community college where I studied to be a lab tech. Then I gave up on it when I got into street gambling in community college.
Kevin (tearing up) That’s... beautiful. You escaped a cult with cheese and glitter. You’re like a lactose-intolerant ninja.
Fitz: (nods solemnly) You didn’t just escape, Thester. You evolved. From Star-Seed, to a college student. Then a street gambling con artist. And now you're here as a desk clerk. Reformed.
Thester (smiling) Thanks, guys. Especially you Fitz. If you never found me. I'd be in prison. I may be weird, but I’m your kind of weird.
They clink mugs—tea, coffee, and donut glaze. The lava lamp pulses gently in the background, like a glowing reminder of the trauma they blew up together. Paradise PD station glows under the moonlight—still standing, still dysfunctional, and somehow, still a family.
Chapter Seven Conclusion:
Six Months Later. Mosquitoes buzz. A faded sign reads: “COMING SOON: THE SWAMP OF ETERNAL VIBES – A Papa Solstice Sanctuary”
A rickety wooden dock leads to a half-built commune made of driftwood, pool noodles, and suspiciously stolen tiki bar furniture. A gator lounges beside a pile of chakra crystals. As it turned out, Papa Soltice survived and escaped to Florida.
Papa Solstice (emerging from a hammock, wearing Randall’s stolen trousers and a crown made of palm fronds) Ahhh... Florida. The land of freedom, humidity, and zero zoning laws. (He pets the gator) You, my scaly friend, shall be the new Zarnok. And this time... no children with moss.
Rising a conch shell, Papa Solstice blows into it. It emits a sound so disturbing, three flamingos faint.
Papa Solstice: (grinning) Let the vibes begin. And I will find you again one day Star-Seed!
The rest of the crew has gone home or passed out in various corners of the station. The lights are dim. Bullet lies on the couch, licking peanut butter off his paw. Stanley sits beside him, adjusting his toupee with a sigh.
Bullet: So they blow up a commune, survive a psychedelic explosion, and get a lava lamp redemption arc... and we get left behind?
Stanley: We volunteered to be left behind.
Bullet: Exactly! BUt still! How come we didn't hear what happened from Randall and the others! What about us? I’ve been here since the pilot! I’ve seen things. I’ve smelled things. I’ve been high on things.
Stanley: You’re right. We deserve our own episode. Something classy. Noir, maybe. You as the grizzled detective, me as the morally ambiguous barber with a dark past.
Bullet: You come up with the most insane ideas! We’ll call it... Bullet & The Blade: Scissors of Justice.
Stanley: Let’s pitch it to Netflix. Or at least the weird guy in the basement who keeps filming us with a GoPro.
Bullet: Nah I don't think so. Hulu maybe.
Stanley: Yeah, you’re right. He smells like glue and regret. But still—next time, we’re not just background noise. We’re the main event.
They both stare dramatically into the middle distance as the camera slowly zooms out.
Stanley and Bullet (in unison, shouting) WHAT ABOUT US?!
The End
Sign up to rate and review this story