Pop 27- Finale

Petals strolled through the fairgrounds, her arm looped around the handsome gardener’s.

In her other hand, she carried a plush giraffe.

“Sorry we didn’t get to see the real one,” the gardener said with a sheepish grin.

“Didn’t know it was on loan from another zoo.”

Petals giggled. “That’s okay. I still got my giraffe—see?” She lifted the toy proudly.

The gardener laughed, catching her hand and trying to slide it toward the front of his jeans.

“You’ve got another giraffe waiting here, too.”

Petals gasped, tapping his shoulder. “Don’t be silly!”

She blushed and turned her head to check behind her.

Olive was still sitting on a bench, eating her ice cream.

“Hey Olive, where’s Ashton?”

Olive smiled. “Somewhere near the Ferris wheel. He said he’s never ridden one before.

I guess tonight’s the night.”

The gardener glanced at Petals. “I heard someone caused quite the scene at Mrs. Margarette’s tea room…”

Petals laughed. “Oh, that? It’s a long story.”

She began to recount it—the way she’d stormed into the tea room in her younger self,

after popping all the pills Olive had given her. Mrs. Margarette hadn’t recognized her at all.

When Petals demanded to know why she couldn’t go to the zoo,

that sharp, sassy voice had snapped back: ‘I don’t care if you’re Petals’ granddaughter or not.

Rules are rules. If you’re too fat for the bus, you’re out.’

Petals could still remember the look on Mrs. Margarette’s face when the pills wore off right there in the middle of the room.

Her transformation into her older self had been instant—and because she was wearing a skin-tight dress,

everything had popped out at once.

The two tea-room minions screamed so loudly that the nursing home had to be evacuated—half the residents ended up in the hospital for tinnitus.

Mrs. Margarette herself had frozen like a marble statue.

“And to this day,” Petals said, sipping her soda, “nobody knows how to unfreeze her.

But for the record—I’m not a witch.”

The gardener chuckled. “You just shocked her into paralysis.

But wait—you said you were all exposed in the middle of the nursing home? That’s kind of hot.”

“Stop!” Petals laughed, covering her face. “I used the tiny dress to cover what needed to be covered.”

He leaned close and whispered something in her ear. Petals blushed again.

“Hey Olive, you’ll be fine, right? We’re just going to the cup ride.”

Olive nodded. “Don’t mind me. I’ll grab some popcorn and find Ashton.”

But before she could take a step, Olive froze. Standing in front of her was Dr. Sebastian—flanked by ten men in black suits.

“Olive Bloom,” he said coldly. “You have something that belongs to me.”

Olive smiled nervously. “It’s… all gone.”

“Gone?” His frown deepened. “Explain gone.”

“I popped everything,” Olive said.

Dr. Sebastian’s scream was so piercing that all his men dropped to their knees clutching their ears.

Moments later, ambulances arrived to rush them away—every single one suffering tinnitus.

Olive simply munched her popcorn, calm and smug.

“Lesson learned,” she murmured. “Always wear earplugs.”

——————————————————————————————————————————————————-

Meanwhile, Ashton sat alone in the ferris wheel.

The bored operator snapped his fingers in front of Ashton’s face.

“Hey man, I gotta turn this thing back on. I’ll get in trouble if—”

“That’s what the twenty was for,” Ashton muttered.

The operator blinked. “Yeah, but that was twenty minutes ago. People wanna ride.”

Ashton looked around. “What people? I don’t see a line.” He sighed and pulled another twenty from his pocket.

“Fifteen more minutes, tops,” the operator said, restarting the ride.

Ashton leaned back, scanning the fair below for Olive, Petals, or that suspiciously good-looking gardener. Then—

“Looking for me?”

Leo sat across from him, a small smile playing on his lips.

Before Ashton could react, the ferris wheel jerked into motion.

Neither of them spoke as the cart rose higher, the city lights flickering below.

“Ever think about what would happen if we fell from here?” Leo asked softly.

Ashton smirked. “Not really. This was your idea.”

“My idea? I don’t remember sayin’ we need some Ferris wheel action?”

Ashton smiles, “Well, when you dumped me, I feel like I need some Ferris wheel ride to settle the

dust of missing you, but anyway, that’s the past, we have to live for the present right? I was wondering,

how’d you even find me?”

Leo pulled out his phone, showing the tracking app.

Ashton groaned. “The bracelet again. This thing got me into trouble the other day.”

Leo reached over, taking Ashton’s hand. “Then maybe it’ll get you into trouble again tonight.”

He leaned in and kissed him.

“Sorry, Ashton,” Leo whispered. “I was selfish. I take back everything I said. I get it now.”

Ashton exhaled. “I was selfish too. I only thought about how good it felt to be young again.”

Leo brushed his thumb along Ashton’s cheek. “Then let’s start over. No more lies. Just moments.”

Ashton nodded. “So… why the locator?”

Leo grinned. “Why not? There’s a lot of guys in that nursing home.

I need to make sure I can track my man before he gets too tempted to play naughty.”

Ashton laughed, and just then, the Ferris wheel cart descended.

The operator—mid-sip of a massive soda—looked up in shock to see the two men kissing.

“Sorry!” Ashton called out.

“Don’t mind me!” the operator said, voice trembling. “Just a guy with a huge soda cup—yep, huge soda cup—”

He froze as a tall stranger appeared behind him, kabedon-ing him against the control booth.

“Excuse me,” the stranger said smoothly. “Did I hear you say you’re just a guy with a huge soda cup?”

“Uh—yeah?”

The man smiled and lifted him effortlessly. “Good. I’ve got one too. And I’m wearing it.”

Before the operator could scream, he was whisked away—to spend the next ten years crocheting for the

guy wearing a huge soda cup.

Up above, Ashton blinked. “Do you feel dizzy?”

Leo glanced down. “Kind of. Shouldn’t someone stop this thing?”

They both realized the control booth was empty.

And then—click—the Ferris wheel stopped.

It was Olive.

She helped Ashton out of the cart and winked at Leo.

Moments later, Petals and her gardener came running, clothes disheveled, cheeks flushed.

“Hungry, boys?” Olive said. “Let’s get some food.”

As she stepped forward, she tripped—only to be caught by strong hands.

“Tristan?”

He smiled. “I believe in happy endings, Olive. And I’d like ours to be happy… even if we’re not there yet.”

Olive smiled back, eyes soft, and kissed him.

Leo took Ashton’s hand. T

he three couples—Olive and Tristan, Petals and her gardener, Leo and Ashton—walked together into the glittering night.

“Where to?” Ashton asked.

Olive grinned. “Restaurant search.”

And together, they disappeared into the hum of the fair, laughter echoing under the neon lights.

————————————————————————————————————-

Epilogue — Somewhere in Liberia

The single light bulb in the interrogation room flickered like it was running out of patience.

The air smelled of instant coffee and bad decisions.

Nurse Pam sat across from a desk, her hair frizzed from humidity,

her scrubs three shades darker from sweat. A fan in the corner spun lazily, doing absolutely nothing.

The metal door slammed open.

A Liberian officer walked in carrying a battered cardboard box.

He dropped it onto the table with a heavy thud. A sea of passports spilled out—hundreds of them.

He crossed his arms. “Do you know how I got these passports? It’s from nameless people who

all told the same story as yours…everyone’s looking for someone, for something.

Again, for the thousandth time, Miss Pam—why are you here?”

Pam gulped. “I told you people already. I’m looking for my man.”

The officer raised a skeptical brow. Two more officers entered,

both chewing gum and clearly living for the drama.

“Your man?” one snickered. “You mean the guy who invented that miracle pill that makes old men…

what do you Americans call it? Hot studs?”

The room broke into laughter.

Pam rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

“Yes. That’s right. A pill that makes grandpa a hot stud. Laugh all you want.”

The second officer leaned forward, grinning. “And you came all the way to Liberia… for that man?”

Pam banged the table. “Yes! Because I love him! And because he owes me three paychecks,

one apology, and a very expensive curling iron!”

The three officers lost it, one nearly falling off his chair.

Pam glared. “I need a lawyer. You hear me? A lawyer. And I want to speak to the U.S. embassy.”

That only made them laugh harder.

Pam sighed, exasperated, reaching for her bag—when one of the officers yanked it off the table and slammed it open.

“Looking for this?” he sneered.

But as the bag hit the table, something hissed.

Pam froze. Her eyes widened.

“Oh no…” she whispered. “That’s not my perfume.”

Inside her bag was a cracked silver canister—the experimental air-spray aging and face-shifting formula of Dr. Sebastian.

The impact had triggered the release mechanism.

A fine mist sprayed directly across the officers’ faces.

They coughed. Blinked. Then started to laugh again—only this time, it sounded strange. Wet. Mechanical.

Pam pressed herself against the wall. “Wait—are you guys okay?”

Their skin began to shimmer, morphing, twisting in rapid bursts between youth and decay.

The laughter deepened, echoing unnaturally through the room.

One officer’s neck snapped sideways with a crack like breaking celery.

Another’s face flickered like a bad hologram.

Pam’s stomach dropped. “Oh no, no, no—this isn’t happening—”

The lead officer straightened, his features shifting until they reformed into the cold, familiar face of Dr. Sebastian.

“You wanted to find your man, Nurse Pam?” he said, voice distorted, echoing like it came from a tunnel.

He leaned closer, smiling through the glitching skin. “Congratulations. You just did.”

Pam screamed.

The light bulb burst.

Darkness.

Somewhere in the shadows, a single pop echoed—like a capsule cracking open.