JC Sunshine was tired. He hadn’t been getting enough sleep. With nothing to do, doing nothing can be, at times, almost unbearable.
This bus ride wouldn’t provide much opportunity for sleep, either. It would be rather quick; it wasn’t stopping in the Suburban Enclave. Very few did these days.
If there was any real power base of Bolognian authority, it was the enclave. The Hands of Justice would have a better chance walking right up to the president’s house in the city than they would establishing any kind of presence in suburbia. This is where the real believers, the non-questioning believers lived.
If you wanted to travel from Bolognia proper to the enclave, you needed to go through two security checks. If you wanted to travel from the enclave to the rural expanse, you’d better be a property owner or with one or you needed a damn good reason.
Fortunately for Sunshine, his bus took the bridge out of Bolognia and picked up speed, barreling through the enclave, only slowing down to a normal speed when it was in the country. Unfortunately, he still didn’t know when he was going to get off.
He had purchased a ticket to the end of the line, just in case he wanted to go that far, but he knew he wouldn’t need that long a trip. He had no clue where the Hands of Justice were but he was pretty sure they were somewhere near the middle of Bolognia’s countryside.
He decided to get off at the third stop. Third time’s the charm, he thought. Yes, that was the kind of logic that would guide his mission.
When the bus made its third stop, JC grabbed Rex and his knapsack and exited, only to find himself on a dirt road. He walked for a few hours with the sun on the horizon humming the theme song of his former show: “Let the sun shine in, face it with a grin.”
When the sun left the sky, the forced grin left JC’s face and he decided to camp for the night. For this to work, he would need to build a fire.
It would have to be a real fire, though, not a screen with a fire like the one he had used on his show. He started to gather sticks when he heard a familiar voice, one he never thought he would hear again.
“JC,” the disembodied voice of Ricardo rang out, “I’m here.”
“Oh Ricardo,” JC responded, excited, oblivious to the fact that he knew Ricardo was dead, “are you here to help me with my fire?”
“No, dumbass,” Ricardo’s voice replied, “I didn’t come from the great beyond to help you with a task any idiot can accomplish. Just keep gathering sticks then use your lighter, it’s really not that hard. I’m here to tell you one thing. Once the fire is built, go to sleep. You will dream. Pay attention to this dream because it means everything.”
“Will it show me how to get my show back,” JC asked, “or how to get a real show on real TV?”
The disembodied voice of Ricardo was about to respond in the negative then thought about it in an echo JC couldn’t hear:
“This idiot has a one-track mind. If I tell him what he wants to hear, he may actually follow my instructions. I can always pull an Obi-Wan later and say that what I said was true, from a certain point of view.”
“Yes,” he said to JC, “it will. Now finish up and get to sleep.”
Sunshine obeyed and built a fire like he had never done before, literally. When it was finished, he heated up a nice warm mug of coco and was soon asleep.
It helped that Rex had spiked the drink with a powerful sedative. Not because he wanted JC to learn the important lesson, but rather because he wanted to get laid, plenty of available bitches in these woods and stuffed dog or not, he was ready to get his groove on.
The result was still the same, JC was asleep and dreaming. Sunshine found himself in almost complete darkness. There was, however, one spotlight, shining on a man in a tacky suit.
“Welcome,” the stranger said, “to the internet museum.”
to be continued…
(part 1)