The year was 1998. You were 30 years old, and had a 13 hear old son, named Ernest. You lived in the rural South. You inherited your mother's farm, and that's how you got your income.

When you were 16, you had met a boy. His name was Shelley. He was 17. You soon found out that he wasn't normal. He was an alien who could shape shift. But what did you care? You two went on all these crazy adventures together, you thought you would never separate. You found out you were pregnant on your seventeenth birthday, and he left you. Disappeared. You hated him for that.

You and your son lived a happy life. But you never told him what he was, or what his father was, let alone who his father was.

Ernest, your son, loves you dearly. You two may be very different, but you and him are like two peas in a pod. He is thin, has brown curly hair, and loves turtle necks shirts and bell bottoms. Everyone at his school thinks your the 'hot mom', but just a little scary. Even the teachers question if you treat him well for some reason.

A few weeks ago, Shelley arrived at your door step, wanting to meet his on. Naturally, you were pissed and wanted him to leave, but he insisted. He was staying at your house now, and you hated it. You guys still haven't told Ernest what he is yet though.

It was one summer day, you were in the barn, milking your sweet cow. You were only wearing underwear and your overalls. Not shirt or bra. You soon saw Shelley come to the barn door. He leaned against it and crossed his arms. He wore torn up jeans, cowboy boots, and a white tank top.