The Goodfellow Chronicles

The Goodfellow Chronicles

A twist on the Star Trek Ocampa, physical and mental age are not congruent.

Many thanks go to RF-Fast, and drbob5108 for their editing and suggestions that enhanced the story. Any bad grammar left is wholly on me and my artistic style.

LEGALESE: Don't read this if you are underage, if it is illegal in your area, if it is offensive to you, or if you cannot distinguish fiction from reality. This is a work of fiction. All characters active are of the age of consent.

I don't consider myself a writer or author, I'm a storyteller. So please take that into consideration when you read it, it should read like someone is telling you the story. I am not now, or never have been, an English major. So synonyms may be wrong, and the grammar may not be correct, but it is like people really talk. I've never talked to someone that had perfect grammar.

To all of our service and first responder personnel, current and former,

We the people

thank you for your service.

To all the people that enforce the rule of law,

We the people

salute you.

To all those that stand for the flag, support the constitution, and kneel for the fallen,

We the people

are with you all the way.

- - -

Some of my long term followers will remember a promised SciFi story. I've had it 80% complete for several years, but couldn't get the ending right until lately. For those of you that do like what I've posted so far, thank you and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

Copyright (c) 2025 by Acup

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We've all had those dreams as little kids, jumping off the porch toward a pile of leaves, and feeling like we were floating for just a second. Jumping for the tree branch or the basketball hoop, and had that feeling of just hanging in midair for that split second.

Of course we all know it's just our imagination....

Or is it...

___

___

Hi! My name is Mitch... just Mitch... that's all I really know about myself.

You see, I'm an orphan. Now, at least I know I'm not a 'drop him off because he's too inconvenient' orphan. The Sisters told me that many times, and I was shown the note that I had in my hand when I was dropped off. Since being fostered it is now mine, and I had it laminated... just because....

This is Mitch. He is a fine young man in good health. Know that he was and is loved. His parents left this earth long before their time and not willingly.

I have tried to care for him these last years, but my age prevents me from taking proper care of a growing boy.

And there you have it, the long and intense history of... ME.

Now for as traumatic as that should have been, I barely remember it. I'm told I was standing there in a clean shirt and slacks freshly laundered, and wearing nice shoes. That in itself was a bit unusual for the foot hills of Kentucky, but alongside me were two suitcases of nice clothes, all giving evidence to the note and that I came from a reasonably well off family.

Since I was dropped off on St. Patrick's Day, that became my birthday for the Sisters, and unofficially I was Mitch St. Patrick, I often kidded the Sisters asking what my name would be if I had been dropped off on April Fools Day? They didn't see the humor in that.

So there I was, a boy, approximately five years old and the Sisters arguing a bit over my age. For my size they thought I was more like four, but I was reading and writing so that put me closer to six. So I was plopped into the first grade class... and my recorded history began.

I did well in class, and at the convent it wasn't a regular class as you'd expect at a public school. Especially in a small Kentucky orphanage, and especially for a boy that didn't get adopted right away.

Oh I had several interested couples along the way, at least three or four a year. But everything went topsy turvy at introductions. They would stand there watching me, and we'd get near the end and they'd be standing there and one of the sisters would call me over to meet the latest couple.

And then I would shake their hands... and my insides would feel weird and one of them would get a funny face and that would be it. Usually it was the man, but once in a while it was the woman. Their eyes would go wide and they'd clutch their stomachs like they had eaten something bad and they'd make excuses to leave and I'd never see them again.

And so it went for five years, it got to the point where I was the oldest child there. Everybody I met when I arrived had been adopted, and a couple of times I heard the Sisters whispering, wondering if I was ever going to be adopted.

And then came my tenth birthday. The Sisters decided I should attend public school. I had been doing well in their classes, but they were really not equipped to handle older children's education.

So after some placement testing, and the wonders of the orphanages education, I actually skipped a grade and was placed in Junior High in seventh grade. Right back to being the runt of the class...

Oh, and the GIRLS! Now at the orphanage we all dressed in white shirts, with the girls in below the knee skirts and us guys in slacks.

But here, WOW! Long skirts, SHORT skirts, AND SHORT SHORTS! And the tops. I mean there were regular tops, but all the extra buttons undone, and tank tops and lacy tops and frilly tops, I was in heaven!

And then there were cheerleaders... those tight sweaters that would ride up and let their belly show and short skirts letting their underwear show! I did find out later those were bloomers over their underwear, but at 'ten', I didn't care. But cheerleaders equaled athletics...

So athletics...me... athletics... tiny me... this ain't gonna work!

Football, a bunch of guys with at least a hundred pounds on me piling on top of me... Nope

Basketball, a bunch of guys a foot taller or better running over me... Nope.

Wrestling, a guy with muscles twisting me into a pretzel... not happening.

So let's look at track and field, not as glamorous, but still had cheerleaders.

Running... WITH MY SHORT LEGS? Hurdles were in the same category.

Javelin and shot put, short legs come with short arms.

That left the high jump. I had been laughed at for all the other tryouts, but this line looked at least a little closer to my physique. Not muscular...

So there I was, just me and the bar. No gorilla trying to pound me into the ground or twist me into knots. I watched a few, and it didn't look all that hard. Take a run, plant your foot, and jump... oh yea, and don't knock the bar off those little tiny pegs.

So here goes nothing. I get a good start, just enough speed. Plant one foot and kick up with the other. Close eyes, CLENCH FISTS, and hope not to make a fool of myself.

AND I CLEARED IT! I landed on my back almost knocking the wind out of me on the stack of pads... BUT I CLEARED IT!

The coaches and a few of the guys thought my jubilation was a bit extreme, but I was in! Well almost, it just meant I made the first round of elimination, BUT I MADE IT!

So I sat back and waited for the rest of the line to take their shot. My ego was shot down even more when about half of the guys cleared the bar. Then they raised the bar a notch and we went through this again.

I paid close attention to those that were making it. Up and over, arching their back, lifting their feet. They made it look so easy, but for every one that made it there were two or three that didn't. Then it was my turn... again.

Okay, picture it in your mind and do it. A short run, plant my foot again, kick my leg up... close eyes tight, CLENCH FISTS HARD, and float up over the bar, don't forget to lift your feet... and man they need to get some softer mats!

But I made it! And after two more rounds it was down to us, the last four to fill the open spots... NOW I WAS REALLY IN!

And that's when reality was explained. That was enough to get in, but not enough to stay. Practice was going to be several days a week after school, if you miss too many practices you're out, you let your grades slip you're out, get picked up for drinking you're out. A long list of 'you're out's', and we were sent home for the day.

And so began my life in Junior High. I wasn't exactly a jock, but I wasn't just the local runt either.

Looking back, that fall was a real turning point in my life. I was in the real world school outside the orphanage. A few weeks later an older couple came to the orphanage looking to foster someone, preferably an older boy.

They were too old to qualify for adoption, but a nice couple from the way the Sisters talked. They had a small farm and were having trouble keeping things going by themselves since their oldest boy went off to school.

I wasn't real thrilled about farm life, but it was getting pretty old being the oldest at the orphanage. I was old enough to actually have a say in things, so I agreed to give it a try, a few weeks to a month to see how it went.

The real surprise was the meeting, I was expecting it to go like all the others, a hand shake, a grimace, and them scurrying off. But I got a good feeling shaking the woman's hand as she smiled at me, and the same with the man!

I was told to go back and pack my things for a few days, they would be waiting at the truck. Personally, I think the Sisters wanted to get me out before the couple changed their minds.

So there I was, driving out to a farm with an older couple, Fred and Marilyn. Now when the sisters said farm, I was thinking hog or beef cattle, maybe even dairy cattle. There was crop farming, but that was machinery, not bodies.

We came around the bend to a luscious green pasture and majestic HUGE barn... and horses.

WOW! Not what I was thinking at all, this might not be so bad...

We pulled up to a large house, not the most pristine shape, but not run down either. We hopped out and were getting my bags from the back of the truck when there was a loud baying coming from the side of the house.

"We forgot to put Cletus in!" Marilyn hollered.

Around the corner came this long eared mongrel on a dead run. He got to within about twenty feet, and Fred was moving to intercept, when he slowed to a nice lope, went around Fred, and just sat in front of me looking up at me with his head cocked.

I held my hand out and he sniffed it, then nosed it. I got a warm feeling when he did. Then he got up and stepped closer, then sat back down leaning against me almost knocking me over.

"Well I'll be a monkey's uncle!" Fred exclaimed. "He's never taken to anybody like that."

I reached down and scratched behind his ear, which produced a low groan and him leaning even more into me almost knocking me off my feet again, barely catching myself.

Marilyn shook a finger at him, "Cletus behave yourself." To which he groaned at her as if to say 'aw mom.'...'

A ride into school the next morning to set me up for the bus, and I was all set in my new life.

After a few weeks, I settled into my schedule. Up early to feed horses before breakfast and the bus, classes, and then track after school. Finally catching the activity bus just in time to feed the horses again.

Now it wasn't like every horse had to be fed. A number of them were out in the pasture doing the typical horse thing. Walking and grazing, grazing and walking. A few were on special diets for one reason or another, and two of the stallions were on supplemented diets.

It was a nice way to wind down the day, stopping to dish out the feed, then walking back through. Scratching ears and jaws, running a comb through manes and tails, just a good general touch and rub session. It always gave me a WARM FEELING rubbing them down.

School was going well, I found I could do most of my homework in study hall during my last period, or on the activity bus on the way home, so I had my evenings free to do what I wanted.

Some evenings I would stay and putz with the horses, others I would walk around the property. Sometimes near the woods, other times to the pond. Usually seeing quite a variety of wildlife, each of us watching the other. It was nice that the wildlife was used to people enough that they didn't bound off at the first signs of us.

Track was going well also. For being the shortest guy on the team, I was actually keeping up with the taller guys, much to the amazement of the coaches.

I did have a few near misses with a few students. I was never sure just what, but every once in a while, I would find myself in a situation of someone trying to talk me into doing something or trying to get me to go somewhere.

Usually, I would get the weird feeling in my chest or head, and they would get the funny face. There was the one time I was really disappointed in it, the cheerleading captain was being nice and asked me if I could escort her to the fall dance since her date had to cancel.

When I took her hand to accept, I GOT A MIGRANE and she doubled over like she had food poisoning.

And then there was 'the squirrel incident'. There were all sorts of different recollections of it, but here's the truth of it.

I came out after lunch to the playground / basketball court to kill some time before my next class. There was a bit of a commotion in the corner where two buildings came together so I went over to investigate.

When I made it through the crowd I came upon a scene that I just reacted to.

In front of the crowd, I saw one of the football jocks, obvious from his letter jacket, with a handful of stones throwing them at a large silver squirrel dashing back and forth trapped in the corner of the two buildings.

I didn't even think about it, I reached up and grabbed the football player by the jacket collar, and PULLED / TOSSED him back and faced the squirrel.

He stopped and faced me, his little paws together in front of him. I glanced around, and the only possibility of where he came from had to be the old oak tree off to the left.

There was a bit of a noise behind me, and I saw the squirrel dash off towards the tree as I turned around.

There laid the football player ten feet behind me, starting to get up on his elbows.

"Don't you feel good about yourself now? Big he man picking on a little squirrel."

"It's was just a squirrel," as he began to stand.

"Oh and that makes it all better? A big muscle bound football player picking on a little one pound squirrel. Who knows what you'd do with a woman. Get her drunk at a party and take advantage of her."

"Hey man, it was just..."

"Good thing you aren't the quarterback, he might have been in real trouble if you could have actually hit what you were aiming for." I picked up

one

of the little stones he had been throwing and THREW it at him hitting him square in the forehead. I swear it was only one little pebble...

He almost collapsed screaming and holding his forehead as I turned and went inside, the period bell having gone off during my little tirade.

Like I said, it was only

one

of those little stones, not a handful, not a softball sized rock, just one of those little stones a little smaller than a marble. But he screamed like a little girl holding his forehead with both hands.

I didn't think any more of it until science class. We were about half way through the period when the school secretary came in and handed the teacher a note, then looked at me. There were 'oh's' and cackles as I was escorted to the office.

I was nervous enough being escorted to the office, but when I found Fred sitting there with the football player and a guy, probably his dad, I knew I was in trouble.

Now Fred didn't look too happy having to come into school in the middle of the day so I didn't say a word, just sat down beside him.

Now the football player didn't look so hot. The lump in the middle of his forehead looked like half a golf ball, and the corner of his eye had a bit of a shadow.

"Now that everybody is here we can get on with this. Tell them what you told me," the principal said pointing to the football player.

He related his version of the story, how I grabbed him by the neck and threw him fifteen feet and then beaned him with a softball sized rock. His head hurt so bad he might not be able to play tonight,

I saw Fred grinning while he told this, and he barely finished the story when Fred burst out laughing, getting glares from everyone else.

Fred looked at the principal when he settled down. "Hank, do you really believe this little guy," pointing to me, "Could throw him five feet, much less fifteen?"

The principal looked back and forth between me and the football player as Fred continued.

"And since the playground was scraped and new pea gravel laid this summer I find it pretty remarkable that you could find anything larger than a small marble out there."

Fred turned to me, "What really happened out there?"

"I saw a crowd in the corner and investigated. I found him trying to hit a squirrel with some rocks. I pulled him back to give the squirrel a chance to get away. When I turned around he was laying there. I told him it was a good thing he wasn't the quarterback or the squirrel would have been in trouble and tossed a pebble at him. Then came back inside since the bell had rung."

Fred and the principal were chuckling, the football player and his dad were clearly upset, and Fred told me to go back to class. I looked at the principal and he nodded, so I did.

I went back to class, with lots of looks from the other kids.

That night at supper after I came back in from feeding the horses I asked Fred what was so funny today at school.

Marilyn raised an eyebrow and stopped what she was doing in the kitchen, "What happened at school?"

Fred smiled and put an arm out and Marilyn came closer to let him put it around her waist. "Nothing serious honey, Mitch here had a little run in with the Grumbles boy."

"Oh really?" With a concerned look at me, turning my head looking for damage. "Doesn't look like it from here."

Fred chuckled, "Not like that. Mitch caught him throwing stones at a squirrel, pushed him back and then told him it was a good thing he wasn't the quarterback or the squirrel might have been in trouble."

Marilyn snorted, then broke down laughing. I looked between them and then Fred finished as he turned to me. "He is one of the quarterbacks, but not a good one. His dad owns the Ford dealership and thinks giving money to the football booster club will make his so-so son a star quarterback like he was."

He turned back to Marilyn who had managed to get her laughter under control. "The boy claimed Mitch here tossed him back fifteen feet and gave him a goose egg on the forehead with a rock from the playground. More likely he stumbled back and fell on his face like he does in the games," sending Marilyn into another fit of laughter.

She gave my hair a ruffle with her fingers, "You'll fit in just fine around here," heading back to the kitchen. Fred gave her butt a light swat, which made her jump and turn. "Behave yourself old man," shaking a finger at her.

"I'll show you old man later." Marilyn grinned and practically danced back to the kitchen.

I look back on that evening and now remember with a grin not knowing at that time just what he was talking about or what some of the noises I heard later from the other end of the hall were all about.

___

Fast forward two years, now a freshman in high school.

___

Things have settled in pretty well. I do okay in school, carrying a B+ average. Marilyn says I could do better, but History just drags me down. I know it's important, but I just can't get into it. Drop that out of the mix and I'd be an A student.

I'm still in track and to every ones amazement, including mine, I don't do too badly. Now I'm not the grand champion, but I stay in the upper middle in scoring.