Enormous threatening thunderclouds loomed overhead cracking at the seems with their leaden cargo.
Peter heard a rumbling and then the rustling of leaves, then the soft vibrations of millions of little shockwaves like tiny jack-hammers. The pounding increased.

He soon felt the icy trickle of water running around his body like the dull edges of hundreds of pocket knives tracing his arteries.

Peter was reminded of his thirst. He struggled to open his jaw but only succeeded in taking in a mouthful of mud. He sucked out some precious moisture but discovered it difficult to spit the dirt back out. He lay there breathing through his nose with ever increasing difficulty. He tried to move his hand but couldn't. It felt like something was biting it. He couldn't even turn his head to look. Peter's mounting fear was soundtracked by his own heartbeat thundering in his ears.
Suddenly the comfort of the ditch, the peaceful solitude, the intriguing secrecy, the connection with nature, all at once ceased to please him. He feebly attempted to struggle free, but Earth had too firm a hold.

His muscles exhausted, Peter was nothing more than another gravel in God's Sidewalk.

A tiny insect frozen in the Amber of Time.

Just then he heard a familiar voice, calmly speak his name.

At the restaurant, Billy gleefully hammered away at a game of 'Smack-a-Rodent' as Mom and Dad awaited service from a teenage waiter with bad skin. The animals popping up out of the holes suddenly reminded Billy of his absent brother. He put the mallet down and joined his parents in the booth. The meal finally came and consisted of Billy's most favorite things. French fries, Ketchup, and Pink Lemonade. "Who's the chef, Picasso?" joked Dad. His attempt at humor went unnoticed. Billy seemed oddly quiet. "What's the matter boy? Are you sad because your brother's not here?" Billy thought for a moment but didn't respond.
"Your sister will be home and she'll fix him something to eat. Don't worry too much about him, enjoy your Ketchup."
Mom attempted to get some response with, "I like your banana-hat son". Billy checked the watch then hesitantly spoke.

"Dad, what happens to… people… after they get buried?"
Mom stopped mid-bite and looked at Dad.
"Well, where did that come from? Uh, like Grandma, well she's gone on to a better place. She's happy and peaceful and now she can be with Grandpa and Uncle Claude. It's just a necessary thing, not really good or bad, just necessary. It's happens to everybody. Young and old. I'm sure Grandma is much happier than before. She was very sick and no one could help her anymore. Now come on, finish your fries, so we can order…d-e-s-s-e-r-t".
Dad's words seemed to comfort Billy. He no longer felt the pangs of guilt and confusion.

"Dad, can I go play some more video games?"
"Of course, that's why we're here."
"But don't go too far. The dessert's coming soon," cautioned Mom.
Later the dessert arrived and they all really enjoyed their cheesecake, to the sounds of circus music and recorded monkey screams.

Once inside, they never let you forget you're eating at Monkey Meal Emporium.

Time passed. Too much time.