I’ve given plenty of hitchhikers rides over the years. There are plenty of them that get stranded along the long, lonely roads around my property. I’m always happy to give them a ride back into civilization. Usually, when I pick people up, they respond in one of three ways. Gratitude, embarrassment, or some combination of both. Which is why it was odd that these two young men started laughing as soon as they climbed in my truck.

From a distance, they looked like your standard stranded travelers. Side of the road, near a broken car, hopeful glint in their eye as they see me coming and try to wave me down. Both of them wore heavy coats, not unusual for folks from out of state not used to the weather around here, but it did prevent me from getting a good look at either of them. I pulled over next to them, rolling my window down. “I’m heading into town, need a lift?” I ask, as if the answer wasn’t obvious. The two of them looked at each other, before the taller one nodded silently. I unlocked the passenger door, and as they climbed in I got my first good look at them.

The taller of the two was fair skinned, with medium length sandy blond hair. The shorter one had a more olive complexion and short dark hair. As they got seated, I resumed driving. I’ve learned over time that some people are embarrassed enough at needing a ride and don’t want to talk, so I wait for them to speak first. They glance at each other, as if silently sharing a secret, before they both burst into heavy laughter.

I glance over at them, confused as to what was so funny. The taller one was in tears, and the shorter one was gasping for breath, clutching his stomach from laughing so hard. As I continued to drive their laughter started to taper off, allowing them to finally catch their breath. Unfortunately, before I could speak up and ask them what was going on, they made eye contact again, starting the laughing fit all over.

As I approached town, I resolved myself to never find out what had been so funny. The two young men had spent the entirety of the drive consumed by laughing fits, never pausing long enough to let me get a word in. As I pulled into the parking lot of the solitary motel, the taller of the two was able to calm his laughter down to a giggle. He wiped the tears from his eyes, and fetched a twenty from his wallet. I held my hand up, shaking my head. “Don’t worry about it” I responded, speaking up to be heard over his partner’s still all-encompassing laughter “It’s my pleasure to help people out.”

The two men wordlessly climb out, still giggling like schoolgirls. The shorter one waves a thank you as they both make their way to the desk of the motel. As I start to drive away, I notice a small book tucked between the seats. I pull over and fish it out, realizing it must have been left behind by my recent riders. I flip it open to the bookparked page out of curiosity. A quick glance reveals it to be some kind of travel guide, but a single passage catches my eye.

Laughter is a great tool for putting humans at ease. It is a universal sign of happiness for them, so its usefulness it no limited to any one population. It can be particularly helpful in situations where your vocal synthesizers are damaged, have not fully warmed up, or are otherwise unable to convincingly communicate in the local dialect, as one is not expected to be able to speak while laughing. This should not be implemented as a long-term solution outside of dire circumstances, as excessive laughter is often be interpreted by humans as a sign of mental abnormality.

It was a long drive home, but I was nearly there. Just a couple more hours. I had ignored the last rest stop, so I was glad when I saw the hitchhikers. They looked harmless enough. Almost familiar. So I pulled over to the side of the highway. I saw their large backpacks, so I got out and opened the cargo door of my SUV as they jogged up.

The two young men shrugged themselves out of their backpacks, and threw their heavy loads into the rear cargo area.

The taller one yelled, “Shotgun!”

I walked with them around the passenger side of the vehicle even though there was not much traffic. Habit, I guess. The two whispered from the back of the SUV to the rear passenger door where the first hopped in. The taller one, who had called dibs on the front seat, got in next. I continued around the front of the vehicle and looked in the front windshield. The two were whispering to one another over the seat. I made sure there was no traffic and got into the SUV.

I had not even started the vehicle when the two young men looked at me, looked at each other, then broke out laughing. Must have been an inside joke. But the one in front pointed at me as he laughed.

I let out a heavy sigh. “You boys went to my elementary school, didn’t you.” It was not a question.

They continued to laugh as they nodded their heads up and down. It was like they were in fourth grade again. The grade I had taught for over twenty years. Same school. Same room.

“And when were you in my class?”

The one in the front seat blurted through his laughter, “Nineteen-eighty-four.”

Ah yes. Such a good year.

“I take it that you remember your first day in my class, which, by the way, was my first day teaching. Ever.”

They laughed even harder, which I did not think was possible. They were both in tears. I supposed that they had remembered my escapade in the front of the room.

They calmed down enough to start talking.

The one in the front seat introduced himself, “I’m Tony. That’s Matt in the back. We still talk about that first day. A lot. You farting out loud in front of the class.” He gave a soft chuckle as he wiped the tears off his face.

Matt added, “Yeah. We talked about it a lot all the way through high school even. When teachers heard us talking about that first day, they would ask who we were talking about. When we told them, they would give a little knowing nod or shake their heads in disgust, or at least fake disgust. They always smiled.”

The two looked at each other over the seat. Then they looked at me. Tony asked, “So is it true?”

I knew what they were asking, but I played coy. “Is what true?”

Matt coaxed, “You know.” I kept a straight face. “Your nickname.”

I smiled. How could I not. “Yes. My friends and even the teachers used to call me…” Their eyeballs were practically bulging and they were leaning toward me as close as they could. “…the King of Farts.”

They exploded in laughter again.

I started the SUV and pulled out onto the nearly deserted highway. I was no longer sleepy.

We had a great ride filled with reminiscing and new stories.

[This story goes with the story It’s Just Gas. Not really a sequel, but connected.]

I bopped to the radio station LatestJams 104.0 as I drove along the road on my way home from work. It was a country highway and one of my favourites. Not many people, several miles from the nearest town, which was a well known city. Perfect for picking up hitchhikers and bringing them to my house for a little fun.

I spot my first catch. Two young teenage girls, smiling and sticking their thumbs in the direction of the city.

Smiling, I slow to a stop. One of my hands rests on the window button, the other gently strokes the tranquilizer in my pocket. “Hey ladies. Need a ride?”

“Thanks, sir. My name is Raven and this is Hailey.” The girls look at each other with a grin. Both get in the car and instantly burst out laughing.

“What the?…” these girls are plain wierd.

“Sorry…” Hailey gasps for breath. “We’re delusional. We ran out of water an hour ago and we’re kinda going crazy.”

“Ah,” I say. “Here, I can turn up the air conditioning if you want.” I lean forward, but instead of putting on the AC, I grab my tranquilizer gun. Whipping around, I’m about to shot them both when I see they both have a knife themselves and are about to try to get me.

“What the…” I tried to make sense of the situation. Clearly, the girls were in just as much surprise as me.

“Dude, what? Our targets aren’t supposed to have us as targets,” said Raven.

“Wait… you’re a hitchhiker killer? I’m a hitchhiker picker-upper kidnapper.” I said.

“Yeah,” said Raven. “We’re besties, and orphans. We take turns killing the driver and then pinning it on the other, then we claim the cash prizes for figuring it out. We always have a different identity so the police don’t catch us. After one is caught, the girl who turned the other in breaks her out of juvie. It’s our way of earning money.”

Their story is kinda sad, I can’t help but doing something about it. “What if I take you gals under my wing?” I suggest. “No sneaky business, promise. We can keep doing our thing, just not on each other.”

“Well…ok,” said Raven, glancing at Hailey. “Just no funny stuff. We’re killers, remember.”

“Not for much longer,” I said. “Now you’re with me, you don’t have to kill. Kidnapping is one thing, but murder is another. I’d rather have spouses who only kidnapped. You’ll find it’s a lot more harrowing when you realize how many lives you ended later.” I sighed. “Besides, I’m sorta like a mad scientist, too. I’ve found the recipe to a memory loss elixer. You’d like it.” I grinned at Raven and Hailey. “Ready to see my house?”

They nod and I take the first exit on the right, zooming towards my home.

I travelled down what I thought was an empty road. The horizon seemed to stretch for hundreds of miles ahead of me. The yellow lines on the road dotted in some places for people who didn't exist to pass. As I hummed to the song playing from my phone, I suddenly saw a pair of hitchhikers whose thumbs pointed to the sky. After a few seconds of debating myself, I pulled over to see if they were headed in any direction that I was. But no matter what they said, I knew I was likely to take them due to myself not having any clue to where I was headed. My car pulled over to the side of the road, getting as close to them as I could.

"Where are you guys headed?" I asked them softly trying to keep my voice light and gentle so I didn't sound weird or creepy. I took a moment to observe the two men, one tall and lanky while the other was short and stout.it was typical pair of men. They seemed comfortable with one another, like they had known each other a long time. The tall one finally looked up at me from his dirty shoes.

"We were hoping to get a ride to the unknown," the man murmured softly. His voice was deep. I smiled at the answers nodding.

"Come on in," I replied, opening the passenger door. The tall one hopped into the passenger side while the short one took the back. As soon as I began driving, the pair of men burst into laughter. My brows furrowed at the sudden sound. The tall one turned to me, seeing my obvious confusion.

"it's joyous laughter. Thank you for picking us up," he explained vaguely. I simply left it at that.

Sylvia Baker was the mother of Julian Baker who arrived in Tree Hill to help Brooke and Julian plan their wedding. She had been described as a monster in law and had a bad relationship with Brooke but shortly before the wedding their relationship improved and was friend’s with Brooke’s mother Victoria. She was also the grandmother of Julian and Brooke’s twin sons Jude and Davis Baker. During her childhood Sylvia Baker was best friend of Melissa. Their friendship was similar at the friendship of Brooke Davis Sylvia’s daughter in law and her best friend Peyton Sawyer Scott. Sylvia was married to Paul Norris and together they had a son Julian Andrew Norris. Julian admired the magic fade away as his mother started to feel unloved due to Paul’s involvement in his work. When his mother sunk into a despression and Julian was unable to save her this prompted him to develop a complex about saving people which would affect his relationships with Peyton Sawyer,Brooke Davis and Alex Dupré. With his close relationship to his mother and distant relationship with his father Julian took on his mother’s surname. Sylvia appeared for the first time the day of Halloween. She introduced to Brooke in asking her candy. Brooke doesn’t know her and noted her that she too old for that. Then Sylvia asks where was her son and Brooke understand that she was Julian’s mother. She later offered to pay for the entire wedding but began to give unwanted opinions caused tension with Brooke. Eventually they reconciled and Sylvia formed a friendship with Brooke’s mother Victoria. She was married to Paul Norris but they have divorced due Paul’s several absent in Sylvia and Julian’s life. Sylvia has a very good relationship with her son Julian. So she saw her new daughter in law like a rival and they have a mixed relationships Brooke accusing Sylvia to nurse her son. But their relationships was improved during Brooke’s bachelorette party. Through her son and daughter in law Sylvia has two grandsons Davis and Jude Baker who live with their parents in Tree Hill so she can’t see them often. She is good friends with Brooke’s mother Victoria.

Haha, it’s you!! Did you know it was us? Why’d you stop? You thought you knew us? Of course you do! You guys are us 10 years ago. We’ve traveled to the future and back. What you see is your future selves. We may look a mess, but we are ok. The future is well, interesting. You’ll just have to believe us!

Jenla and Barth were shivering in the brisk windy breeze, teeth chattering like dancing skeletons. Jenla pulled her balaclava up further over her face, obscuring her numbing nose and rosy cheeks. Barth opted for frosted snow glasses and a thick winter scarf. They pulled their puffer jackets tighter, concealing their cold-pale hands and their weapons. Barth risked a worn gloved thumb in hopes that a car would pity them enough to pull over. They were doing their best to look like helpless travelers in need of warmth. The place they chose was just outside a fairly small town but on the way to a big city, so it wasn’t unusual to find hitchhikers dotting the roadside snow dunes. People from small towns were so innocent. So trusting. That is, except for the odd cases, with the occasional “man from middle of nowhere murders his whole town” stories. But alas, many doors were unlocked and guards were down in favor of the good ol’ fashioned “Oh hello darlin’” way. They were basically asking to be murdered if the “man of the house” wasn’t home with his big “I’ll shoot ya mister” gun. The storm was picking up, raining down wet chunks, not pretty dainty flakes, of snow. “Gee it’s gettin’ pretty cold now,” Barth noted, a hint of worry sneaking into his confident-as-can-be persona. “Dang tootin’ right you are,” Jenla agreed, “but don’t ya worry yar pretty li’l face. They’ll come.” As she said this, an old Subaru squealed around the corner, slowing down a little as it approached. “Bingo.” The passenger rolled down his window. “Hey y’all. Need a ride? Hop right in. It’s colder than a well-digger’s butt, ain’t it?” “Y’all are lifesavers, you are. We’ve been freezin’ our tail feathers off,” Jenla drawled back. She nodded an “I told you so” to Barth, before opening the door for him in a mock-gentlemanly manner, out of sight of the duo in the front seat. “What lovely folks,” she said, just in earshot of them. It was never bad to make a good first impression. “Oh, bless yar hearts. Now, what brings the both of ya through these here parts?” the passenger asked. “I’m Gator.” He was a skinny man with a curly mustache that almost touched his nose. “This here is Zachson,” he added, gesturing to the silent driver, a more lumberjack-looking type. “Well, Zachson, Gator, lovely to meet ya both. I’m Barth, and my cous- er wife here is Jenla. We’re headed just Southeast of the big city.” Gator chuckled warmly, before dropping the act. His voice went about an octave lower, an impressive feat for the twig of a man. “Well I’m afraid that ain’t gonna be happenin’.” He pulled out a rifle, shoving it in Jenla’s face. Barth flinched as Jenla burst into guffaws of laughter. “Ain’t a way in tarnation! You two also murderers?” she said in disbelief. “Well I’ll be tarred and feathered. Y’all are too? That’s just hunky dory, now ain’t it, Zachson? We were nearabout to shoot ya, li’l lady, and pass ya for a possum pie. Not yar pretty man though, we right like him fine.” He waggled his manicured eyebrows in Barth’s direction, tucking the gun away. Zachson grunted his approval. “Y’all want some cookies? Butter pecan,” he boomed. “Ol’est trick in the book,” Barth chucked. “poisoned?” “Yar got us!” Gator giggled, joining in the laughter. “I gotta know, what weapons ya totin’ in those bigger-than-a-bull puffers?” “Well we ain’t all hat and no cattle! We got a few good ol’ Arkansas toothpicks, a pistol or two, solid yard or two a’rope, some extra-long matches, poison- y’all know the drill -maybe a few others,” Barth blabbed. Jenla elbowed his side hard. “Now, what brings y’all to murder?” Jenla bantered. “Ah, well ya see, we’re a homosexual couple, we are, and a lotta folks in this neck o’ the woods ain’t really like that sorta thing. So, we kill the lady and keep the gent. I hope y’all don’t gotta problem with that, now do ya?” Gator threatened. “Oh, no siree. She ain’t really my wife anywho,” Barth admitted, running a finger through his mullet. “Barth! He ain’t very good at keepin’ covers, ya see. I’m trainin’ his sorry behind. But yes, we are cousins,” Jenla confessed. “Well, seein’ as y’all ain’t really goin’ to the city, ya fixin’ to come to our li’l cabin in the woods?” Gator suggested. Jenla glanced at Barth. “That’d be peachy. Got any victims there yet? We’d love to murder… maybe torture… with y’all if you’ll have us.” Barth nodded his approval. “And, uh, maybe other things as well.”

“Oh my God you’re a lifesaver,” Aida said with a laugh.

She squished into the backseat. Rain ran in rivers from her hair. Cal slid in beside her.

“That storm came from nowhere. I’ve never seen hail like that,” Cal said.

He was more soaked than his girlfriend from walking around in the storm trying to get a phone signal. Suddenly Cal and Aida locked eyes in the Uber driver’s car. Their laughter bubbled over and the driver joined in.

“Sorry dude we’re a little punch drunk from getting caught in the storm then skidding off the road and then getting stuck,” Cal said quickly.

“when I realized I hit a cemetery fence of all things in the middle of nowhere. I—we were freaked. Hello Twilight Zone. No phone service. Middle of the night,” Aida cut in.

“We were so excited when you arrived. Cause all I could think was who is driving down a lonely country road past a cemetery in the middle of fricking nowhere,” Cal finished.

“No bother. You guys were in a pickle,” the driver said as he pulled away from the shoulder.

The laughter filled the car’s interior. The dark sedan drove off slowly. The rain enveloped them in a droning curtain.

“It like a horror movie right babe. Like a fricking campfire story or something,” Cal said wiping his wet face with a wet sleeve.

“The vanishing hitchhiker is an archetypal urban legend. One of the oldest cautionary tales, older than hitchhiking; older than motor vehicles. Researchers can’t determine the scary tales origin. Variants have popped up all over the globe, West Africa, central America, across Europe and Asia. Every culture has its own unique narrative tradition of the vanishing traveller,” the driver said. “Like beads on an endless chain.”

Picking up speed the dark sedan cut a path through the dark night. The young couple exchanged worried glances, having a silent conversation in arched eyebrows.

“So pal we just need a ride to New Egypt or you know what the nearest gas station is fine dude,” Cal said.

“Some think the story of the traveller met on the road who then disappears is a snake eating its tail that it had always been. That travelling is a subliminal place neither here nor there fraught with dangers and unknowns and the vanishing is death. Our constant companion.”

The driver’s voice grew flat as the road they traveled on. He was a nondescript middle aged man he seemed to be talking to the road or the night or himself. Cal cleared his voice and put on a tough attitude.

“Dude I said drop us off like whatever,” Cal said his voice deep.

The driver accelerated. Rain pounded thundering down on the windshield. Cal looked over at Aida. Hugging on the backseat, they drew their heads together.

“Babe is this the driver from your app?”

“My app! I thought you called the Uber.”

From the back, the young couple looked to the front seat. There were no lights, no signs, not even trees, just a dim glittering ribbon of asphalt. Only a pair of headlights like two bright eyes devouring the road cut the darkness. The driver’s head slowly turned to face them.

“I wonder about not the origin of the story but its future. How in this world without hitchhiking how will the vanishing traveller story change.”

“We have to get the hell out of here, Jane!” Marco stood near the edge of the forest, looking out at the nearby street. The moon provided just enough light for him to see that the street was empty.

“I know. Just be careful of cars,” Jane replied, reaching forward for his hand.

“Be careful of cars?” He said, drawing his hand from hers. It slid away; both of their hands were wet. “We need one! We need to get away.”

“Ok, but how are we going to get a car? It’s not like he’s chasing us.” Jane said. “Hey, here’s one coming now!”

Marco smiled when he saw the headlights. “Come on,” he said, dragging Jane forward. They stood in the street, hands to their chests, waving furiously at the car to stop. They used to be scared that the car would hit them. From experience, they found that the car always stopped. No self-respecting citizen wanted a criminal charge these days.

“What the hell?” A man shouted from the window. “Get out of the road!”

“We need a ride, please, sir,” Jane said, walking forward. She always did this part, especially if a man was behind the wheel. The headlights were blinding but the passenger seat door was unlocked, and she nodded for Marco to follow.

“Just to the next station?” She pleaded.

The man behind the wheel agreed with a sigh, starting to drive his car again as Marco got in.

Suddenly, the two burst into laughter.

“Ya’ll aren’t some maniacs, are you?” The driver asked, eyeing them suspiciously. “Hey!” He shouted, laughing. Under the passing street lights, closer up, he could tell that he knew these two. “The Bleeder and the Skinner. The worst maniacs on the street. I’ll be damned.”

“Shut up, David,” Marco laughed. “Don’t use our damned media titles. Otherwise, we’ll have to call you the Glutton of the City!”

They all laughed at that.

“Silly we didn’t recognize each other. Funny how this all worked out,” David continued. “Hey, what do you say, one last kill tonight?”

The Bleeder and the Skinner chuckled in reply.

I promised myself I would never do this. I've heard the horror stories; my mother practically ingrained them in me. It was from both sides, too.

Never ever hitchhike, Sophie - you don't know who you could be getting into a car with. What if they're a murderer?

Never ever pick up a hitchhiker, Sophie - you don't know who you could be letting in you're car. What if they're a runaway criminal? What if they murder you?

From her penthouse in the Upper West Side, my mother had very strong opinions about things that quite literally never concerned her. That's my mother for you.

Driving up the windy roads approaching the Catskill mountains; however, I noticed two figures stalking up the side of the road, and they had their thumbs stuck up in the universal hitchhiker signal. My mother's warnings, of course, crossed my mind instantly, but those words were quieted by several other circumstances at play.

#1. The two figures in question were, almost certainly, female. Not for nothing, it does make a difference in my mind. In fact, I might even feel guilty to leave two women walking up the street alone, only to be picked up by some strange, potentially dangerous man, especially when I could have helped.

#2. And this one confirmed it in my mind that I just had to stop: it was raining buckets. I'm talking about torrential downpour. I couldn't in good conscience, leave these two poor girls walking uphill for god knows how long in the makings of a flood.

And so I slowed to a stop as I approached them. I unlocked the doors of my Kia Sorento just as the travelers realized that I was, in fact, stopping for them. They scurried over to my car, wrenched open the car door, and dove out of the rain into my backseat.

Before even giving them a chance, I started nervously rambling as I pulled back onto the road, "Hi, I hope you weren't in the rain for too long! Although I'm sure you guys want to get out of those wet clothes, so let me know where I can drop you off. I'm not from town, so you might need to help me out a bit extra with directions, but I'm sure we'll be able to figure it out together. Does that sound good?"

The response I got was the very last thing I was expecting - hysterical laughter. I mean downright cackling from both women in the backseat of my car. Women who I - if I'm very honest, am tempted to throw right back out of my car. With a peer in the rearview mirror, I saw them both doubled over in their seats from laughing so hard, and that got my mouth working again.

"What in the hell?" I said, raising my voice slightly to be heard over the raucous laughter behind me. With another look in the rearview mirror, I saw one of my passengers finally lift her head, to which I said once again:

"What in the hell?"

Between chuckles, the hitchhiker responded, "What did Mom always say about picking up hitchhikers, Sophie?"

"The same thing she said about being a hitchhiker, Sarah. Don't do it!" I quipped.

In the backseat of my car sat my younger sister, Sarah, and her girlfriend, Naomi - the very two people I was in the Catskills visiting.

"Naomi convinced me to do it! She's a bad influence you know!" Sarah teased, to which Naomi swatted her arm. "You, on the other hand, have just ignored the wisdoms imparted on us in our childhood all on your own!"

"Okay, if that's how you see it, then you can get out, and Naomi and I will wait for you to stumble all the way back to your house soaking wet," I retorted.

Sarah just chuckled again. "Thanks though, Soph. We've been having car troubles, so we thought there would be no harm walking into town to pick up the last few groceries we needed before you got here"

"Yeah," Naomi added, "it was sunny and clear just an hour ago. We obviously never would have left if we thought this was going to happen."

"Of course! I'm just glad it was you two, and not anybody dangerous." I responded, shivering slightly at my mom's worst fears and warnings came to mind.

As if reading my mind, Sarah suggested, "Right. Let's never tell Mom about this."

"Agreed," I laughed. With that, I continued steering us through the Catskills in the pouring rain, not once coming across another hitchhiker.