The Disappearance of Zander Zak Keaton in 2012
Mar 31, 2021 9:57:48 GMT -6
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Post by Rotten Mark Keaton on Mar 31, 2021 9:57:48 GMT -6
2012 - Keaton Residence - 56 Winter Avenue - Toronto Ontario Canada
A seventeen year old Remarkable Mark Keaton sat on the stone porch with his mother, Martha Keaton, watching the slow traffic in the suburban community. It was a muggy, overcast July day and Mark had a sleeveless jean vest on and an NCIS black baseball cap on, he had it flipped backwards. Marsha had on blue jeans and a loose fitting pink shirt. She took a sip of her ice tea and smiled as she kicked off her flip flops on the porch.
“What’s on your mind kid?”
“Don’t call me kid, ma. I’m a grown man now.” Mark huffed as he watched two kids at the end of the street arguing over a toy.
“Sure you are. Girls, I take it?” Her instincts were correct, the blue eyed, blonde haired teen always had girls calling her phone looking for her son's attention. With his father touring with his rock band, she was all he had to talk to. Especially how much he seemed to loath any attention she gave to any other of his three brothers, whenever they were around. Mark was the youngest and two of his brothers have already moved out, one of them was already married.
“Yeah. Stacey Thompson. Ugh, I totally can’t get her out of my head!” Mark crumpled up a nearby scrap of paper and threw it over the rail onto the front lawn. He could feel his mothers glare instantly so he got up, walked down the uneven wooden steps, then retrieved the garbage he threw there.
“I mean, I’ve done everything ma,” Mark walked back up and sat down, he reached instinctively into his vest pocket for his crushed cigarettes then instantly remembered who was sitting next to him, she didn’t know he started smoking a few months ago, “I’ve sent her flowers, liked all her Facebook posts, told all her friends about me. I don’t get it. She just won’t give me any attention. Yet she hangs around that fuckin nerd, Gary Sweat Face.”
“Hey! Watch the language.” Marsha slapped his hand with her novel and he let out a yelp.
“Sorry!” Mark rubbed his hand then frowned as he could hear the deep, guttural noise of an approaching motorcycle.
A man wearing a skull themed motorbike helmet turned into their little, broken paved driveway riding a 71 Harley Davidson Sportster motorcycle, it sounded like the engine was just struggling to stay going as it constantly coughed, the blue paint scratched and the AC/DC decals worn and peeling, the seat missing chunks, revealing the pressed foam insides. The man took off his bike helmet revealing long brown hair and a ragged looking mustache and beard. His bike jacket was covered in studs and zippers. He approached the porch with his helmet tucked under his arm.
“Nope!” Marsha grumbled as she opened her book and microscopically shook her head.
"What?" The man acted innocent, “I didn’t even SAY anything!”
“Zander Zak Keaton, I am your mother, do I look stupid to you? I don’t have a cent on me, I just got one hundred and fifty dollars of groceries so, there you go.”
“I just want twenty bucks. Come on.” Zander put his boot on the step and leaned on the railing.
“Why don’t you get a job, dude.” Mark said, ice cold and staring at his brother.
Zander removed his sunglasses and gave his little brother a hard - Don’t fuck with me today- glance, Mark shook his head then looked away, sorry he even said anything.
“You are twenty four years old, the least you could do is clean that basement. It’s not like you pay me any rent. Tell you what, I’ll get you twenty bucks if you clean up that mess you and that girlfriend of yours left down there.” Marsha put her book down and gave her son a smile. Mark shook his head, not believing she already caved in to Zander.
Zander smiled, “No problem ma. Hey, can you BELIEVE the sightings this year?” Zander’s mood instantly changed as he stepped up on the porch and grabbed the jug of iced tea, he poured himself a glass as Mark continued to look away, his arms crossed and a pissed off expression painted on his face.
“Watched a video this guy posted on UFO’s Are Real website and holy CRAP! There’s these series of green lights right over LAKE ONTARIO! It’s CRAZY PAL!” Zander waved his arm then took a drink of his iced tea.
“SO many sightings this year!”
Mark had enough,“When are you gonna stop the bullshit, eh? You KNOW UFO’s aren’t real right? What the hell is the point of travelling through space for what, a hundred fuckin years to just fly around our atmosphere and do nothing? Come on, dope! You know a lot of my friends laugh at you behind your back and it’s embarrassing!”
“That’s too bad, little bro. You tell your friends if they want to laugh at me, laugh in my face and see how many teeth they have when they walk away, PAL! And U.F.O’s ARE real! I’ve seen two in the last few years, I’m tellin ya, I’ve got a gift for spotting them! Plus a lot of them are just probes sent here to observe us, they’re not manned craft, just automated machinery to scout our planet! They use trans dimensional warp fields to fold the fabric of space then slip through a wormhole to get here instantly, no long travel time!”
“I’ve got a probe for ya, right here!” Mark grabbed his crotch then flinched when Zander made a fist.
“Will you two stop? Zander, go clean that basement. Mark, I need you to get this grass cut, it’s getting long.” Marsha put her book down and poured herself a glass of iced tea.
“I just cut it two days ago!” Mark complained.
“Sucks to be you!” Zander laughed and grabbed his little brother in a hard headlock. Mark made a squealing sound, then laughed as he pushed his big brother into the railing and started laying in soft elbow shots to Zander’s ribcage.
“Nice, little PAL! You’re getting pretty strong, man! You should forget that rock and roll dream of yours and try pro wrestling, or boxing.”
“You should try underarm deodorant, you stink like fuck!” Mark pinched his nose then jogged away.
“LANGUAGE!” Marsha threw her book at a retreating Mark Keaton as he ran into the house while Zander smelled his pits.
Later that summer - Toronto Police Station -
“It’s O.K, Charlie, let her in!” The fat, mustached Sheriff waved from his office as he stared at a sheet of paper with a doughnut in his hand. “Please, we need to speak to Sheriff Milcour. It’s about my son.” Marsha pleaded to a deputy who was dealing with other officers.
Marsha walked into the office, dark circles around her eyes from no sleep, Mark Keaton close by, fresh from church in a plain black jacket and white khaki pants on, his blonde hair combed sideways.
“What can I do for you today, madame?” The sheriff didn’t even make eye contact, he knew exactly why she was here, this was her tenth visit to the station in one week.
“I need to know what the Toronto Police Department is doing to find my Zander.” Marsha said through gritted teeth as she stared at the crumb of doughnut on the fat man’s mustache.
“Madame, Mrs Kreaten was it?”
“It’s Keaton.” She said, in a matter-of-fact voice, saying Keaton much slower.
“Sorry, madame, Keaton, let me see here, yes, Zander Keaton , went missing two weeks ago. Listen, we’ve done everything we can to find that man. But we won’t stop searching, the problem is, we have absolutely NO leads to what the hell happened to him. That’s pretty rare.”
“What do you mean?” Marsha pulled up a seat, Mark remained standing.
“Y’see, usually when somebody in Zander’s case goes missing, somebody knows SOMETHING in that area. It’s not a big community there on Winter Street, somebody in the area, a neighbor, one of his many friends, his three girlfriends, cousins, uncles, anybody would have at LEAST the tiniest particle of information on his whereabouts. Usually it’s something as simple as a girl break up, a restart in life, or whatever. We even looked into his UFO account on the website,” Sheriff Milcour licked his finger as he leafed through a stack of papers,“UFO’s Are Real, and only found him talking about UFO’s, he barely mentioned his real life there, even in that site, he had dozens of people he talked to on the regular. None of them said he seemed strange or wanting to run away.”
“Zander would never run away. Something is wrong about all of this.” Marsha nearly whispered as she tried to control her rage, in her mind, she wanted the police constantly combing the streets for her son, seeing any officer not working hard to do just that, made her angrier and angrier.
“I can’t argue about that one. He left his wallet behind, his motorcycle, his jacket and cellphone. Really, what guy leaves his house these days without those items? His cellphone records shows no calls, no clue in his texts on any plans to run away or meet anyone. It’s like he just got beamed up in his sleep or something.”
“Could you not say that?!” Tears welled up in Marsha’s eyes and Mark squeezed her shoulder in support.
“I'm very sorry Marsha. I really am, but we are doing everything in our power to find him. I promised you updates and I will admit, I’ve had a very busy plate these last two weeks and I may have glossed over giving you updates….but there isn’t any to give you. There is simply no sign of Zander.”
Marsha glanced at a picture of Zander on the sheriffs desk, he’s sitting on his motorcycle pointing a finger to the sky while holding his elbow with his other hand. He’s shirtless and showing off his muscular physique.
“Thank you sheriff, that will be all.” Marsha stood up and glanced at the picture again as Mark cradled her elbow.
100 Miles Away
Zander Zak Keaton stood on a large, grassy hill, he had on an orange, sparkling cowboy hat and he wore a colorful jacket full of tassels and sparkling trinkets. At the bottom of the hill sat a fairly large hockey arena, loud music, firework pyro’s and slamming noises could be heard emanating from the place.
A man with a white beard and black cowboy hat stepped next to him.
“You know what you must do, hero of the Cowboy Collective. You’ve saved our Jupiter division from the evil hordes of Gharnllaxgh, now is your time to save wrestling from evil, more importantly, EWC.” He gave Zander a pat on the shoulder then turned and walked away.
“I don’t KNOW if I can do it ALONE, PAL!” Zander nodded, he felt a powerful electric static charge that tingled the back of his body, he knew what just happened. He turned to talk to the white bearded man, but he was gone, all that was left was a round burn hole in the grass.
