Yeein' On That 'Haw Ch. 6-- [Rapidly Approaching Monkey Noises]

Yeein' On That 'Haw Ch. 6-- [Rapidly Approaching Monkey Noises]

I was still grappling with my current situation as I began following the stream toward who knows where. My strides were long and unsteady, and I occasionally had to grab onto a nearby tree to keep myself from tipping over and smashing my newly phone-head open on the ground. 

My thoughts continued to run rampant. Was I really conscious? Was I in a coma? Why did I hear gunshots right before I blacked out? Did Violet get gunned down along with me, and I was reincarnated in the arcade machine? If so, is she in here with me? Maybe it was just an act of divine intervention. Actually, no, that was stupid. 

The sounds of the brook thankfully muted most of my less sane thoughts, but they couldn’t silence my worries about what I was going to do when night fell. For all I knew, there could be monsters that come out at night in this strange reality I have found myself in. Or worse, some eldritch creatures or shadow clouds. I made a vague plan that involved maybe climbing a tree and tying myself to a branch to prevent falling out of it– Hunger Games style. At least then I would be safe from most predators. 

Speaking of the Hunger Games, I was beginning to get a little peckish. Hauling my own head around on my shoulders had proven to be quite the workout, and that along with hiking through the forest had caused me to begin working up an appetite. But I don’t eat a ton, so it shouldn’t have been hard to track something down. 

…It was, in fact, hard to track something down. I only wound up finding a small bush of red berries. I couldn’t tell if they were poison berries or not, but I decided to have a go at eating them anyway. I know, stupid. But I came across a problem: I had no mouth. I didn’t even know if I could eat. If I could eat, then I didn’t know how. I supposed I would have to go hungry until I figured out how to eat things with a phone for a head. I shoved the berries into my pocket for safekeeping. Yes, gross. 

Eventually, the sun completely disappeared below the horizon, and I felt my anxiety spike. I really didn’t like the dark– I had like six different night lights in my bedroom back home. Oh, how I longed for the sight of my delicious night lights. I debated starting a fire, but if there was one thing I’ve learned from horror movies and games with forest settings, it’s that fires attract bad guys. So I supposed I was stuck with my crippling terror of the dark for the night. 

I glanced around, squinting as best as I could to adjust my eyes– optical sensors?-- to the darkness and approached one of the strangely pink-tinted trees. I felt around for any handholds before carefully climbing the length of the tree. It was significantly more difficult to do so than it was back home– mainly because of the several pounds of phone strapped to my head! 

I made it to a rather sturdy branch and slung my leg over it, effectively seating myself and leaning my back against the trunk. I sighed in a mixture of relief and exasperation while I processed the day’s events. My head was a phone, I probably died in a museum robbery, and now I was in a seemingly alternate universe with no friendly faces or society in sight. On top of that, I was probably about to die in these pink-tinted woods! That was somehow worse than dying in regular-tinted woods. 

Even worse, I was bored. I didn’t have any sketchbooks or pencils with me, nor did I have my phone– my cell phone– so I couldn’t lose myself in Flappy Bird for hours until I felt tired enough to somehow doze off in this tree. I supposed I would just have to use my thoughts to entertain myself until I was tired. It was too dark and I didn’t know enough about the area to keep traveling at night. 

I’m not sure exactly how much time passed. It could have been hours, minutes, maybe only a few seconds. The moon didn’t tell me much. I was just grateful for the fact that there even was a moon in this universe. Regardless, after an indeterminate amount of time, I began hearing noises. What sounded like several sets of footsteps and… squawking? Like… of birds. Hey, at least I knew birds existed. Maybe I could hunt them down for, like… makeshift wings or something. 

I glanced over the side of the branch I rested on, using what little light the moon provided to see if I could find the source of the squawking. It sounded pretty close, so I assumed that I could. I was met with the sight of a pack of three birds– white ones, waddling along and honking as they went. Honestly, they looked so unbelievably stupid. But here’s the thing: they had fucking paper shredders for heads. What the fuck?!

Based on my limited knowledge of birds, without seeing their heads, I assumed they were either geese or swans. I couldn’t quite tell from this height. That confused me– didn’t those birds hang out at ponds? What were they doing in the middle of a forest? Maybe there was a pond nearby. Hey, maybe that meant I was close to a park or something! I felt a glimmer of hope surface in my phone-head. I still couldn’t get over that, man. 

My only issue was these birds. If they were geese, I could probably walk right past them as long as I didn’t get too close. If they were swans, though… I had a problem. Swans are mean little bastards. They’ll break your legs for looking at them wrong. But hey, I still wasn’t sure if I was dreaming, so I thought I might as well take a gamble. 

I leaned over the edge of the branch and cupped a hand around my lips before making a gentle honking noise. Don’t look at me like that, it seemed like a good idea at the time. You gotta see it from my point of view– if I honked at the birds, and they were geese, they would probably just look at me funny and move on. If they were swans, they would instantly rip me to shreds, no pun intended, and I would be free of this phone-hell. It was a win-win!

I could have sworn I heard these birds’ necks snap as they turned to look up at me. I froze. They froze. They honked in perfect unison. 

Then they were practically screaming, making terribly aggressive noises as they instantly took off and fuckin’ ascended into the tree just so they could violently begin attacking me. Okay, they were swans! Great! Fuck! 

I’m not even sure what happened– it was a complete blur of screaming, flailing, and feathers that I hardly noticed when I fell out of the tree. It was kinda rad, honestly. That was, until the swans followed me and continued attacking me. Now that I thought about it, dying from being torn apart by swans was not how I wanted to go. So I began fighting back! I think I hit them once or twice. My memory was too blurred by adrenaline to properly retain any of this. 

Then, just as I thought my tombstone would say “Herein lies (Y/N), mauled by avian pond dinosaurs, RIP in pieces” I heard a distant crashing sound. The swans halted their ripping and tearing and looked up, only to squawk threateningly before scattering and waddling away. 

I literally thought I died there. But when I opened my (metaphorical?) eyes, expecting to see either a white void or a very handsome man welcoming me to Hell, I wasn’t expecting to see a goddamn gorilla. Well, kind of a gorilla. It had a handheld camera for a head. It looked vaguely curious as it looked down at my bloodied and battered form. 

Okay, be honest, what else could I do here but scream? It was a monkey! Monkeys are mean! They kill people just for funsies! I wished the swans would have just finished me off. 

Startled, the gorilla creature made a grunting noise before jolting back a few feet. I scrambled to a seated position, still screaming, before my back hit the trunk of the tree that I just fell out of. It’s a miracle my spine didn’t break or something. 

After a moment, my screaming died down, and the gorilla and I only looked at each other. Hang on, why was this gorilla bipedal? And why did it have a semi-human body? Two things could be happening here. Either this was just how gorillas were in this reality, or I had just become a bigfoot truther. I hoped it was the latter. 

I swallowed a mixture of saliva and blood before carefully pushing myself to my feet, phone-head components rattling about as I did. The gorilla posted up, seeming tense and… almost frightened. We stared at each other wordlessly for a moment before I lifted a hand to wave at the creature. “Um… hello.”

The monkey gave a startled grunt before darting backward another few feet, as if to run. I extended both hands in a somewhat calming gesture. “Hang on, hang on!” I frantically attempted to soothe the creature. If it wasn’t trying to kill me to death, then maybe I could try taming it. Maybe I could get a monkey mount. 

It halted its movement, tilting its camera-head confusedly for a moment. I then remembered the berries in my pocket and slowly reached inside to retrieve them. I don’t know what I was thinking– if they were poisonous, then I might have either killed the gorilla or made myself its enemy. But I wasn’t quite thinking right– I was bleeding out and recovering from a swan attack. 

It took a few good moments of coaxing, but I managed to get the creature close enough to extend my hand to it. It leaned forward, sniffed the berries, and instantly devoured them by shoving them into a hole at the base of its head. I thought it ate my hand along with the berries at first, but it didn’t. Once it finished literally decimating those berries, it looked at me expectantly for more. I shrugged. “No more. No more berries. I think.” I checked my pockets. “Nope. No berries.” 

The creature deflated disappointedly. I winced. “Yeah, I know, it sucks. At least now I know they weren’t poisoned… and that there’s a– hang on,” I tilted my chin upward and felt along the base of my head and, sure enough, there was a small slot there. I assumed it was for food. Gross. 

I was shocked that this monkey thing was sticking around. If it was friendly, then… maybe I could get a tactical monkey companion. But I had to figure out exactly what it was first. It seemed to have some form of linguistic ability, so I cleared my throat and gestured to myself. “Me, (Y/N),” I nodded enthusiastically, watching as it matched my movement. I pointed at it. “You, gorilla?” 

It shook its head insistently. Christ, what was I getting myself into? I swallowed and tried again. “You… big…foot?” 

This creature immediately nodded aggressively, pounding on its chest with enough force to shake the ground beneath my feet. Holy shit. I was interacting with bigfoot, a literal cryptid, and he had saved me from being mauled to death by savage pond dinosaurs! Good lord, maybe this arcade machine wasn’t so bad after all. 

I laughed incredulously, the high-pitched sound causing Bigfoot to jolt slightly. “No fuckin’ way, dude,” I began, resting a hand on where my forehead would be. “Okay, Bigfoot, can you point me toward society? People, perchance?” 

Bigfoot tilted his head for a moment before I gestured to myself. “More like me. People. Humans.”

He nodded and pointed vaguely to the east, and I enthusiastically gripped his free hand to shake it. Christ, I was shaking hands with Bigfoot. He tensed. “Thank you, Bigfoot! You don’t understand how rough I’ve had it, man, it’s been insane–”

Without warning, Bigfoot made a frightened noise and yanked his hand away from mine before turning and booking it further into the woods. I didn’t chase him, because I knew he could rip me apart if he chose to, but a part of me couldn’t help but feel disappointed. I met Bigfoot, he gave me directions, and then he ran away. Oh, well. I had my directions. I turned and began marching to the east, my wounds still actively bleeding and my head still actively a phone. 

I was still afraid of the dark, though. Fuck. 

drinking movie theater butter straight from the teat

Yeein' On That 'Haw Ch. 7-- Finger Guns!

“So yeah, Bigfoot directed me into town, hijinks ensued, and now we’re here,” I summarized. Of course I was omitting 99% of the two years I’d lived in Dialtown since, but he didn’t need to know that. 

“That has gotta be th’ stupidest thing I ever ‘eard, pardner,” Norm interrupted me. “What’d I tell ya about bigfoot? It ain’t real.”

I huffed exasperatedly. My hands were slowly becoming calloused with the force with which I was grabbing the rungs of the ladder. How tall was this thing? How far had we ascended? “Well, how did I live through the swan attack, then?” I muttered indignantly.

“I’m jus’ sayin’, y’said y’were feelin’ pretty, uh… out of it, right?” He asked, confirming my story’s details. “Maybe y’just… imagined it?”

I metaphorically frowned, feeling a flare of annoyance in my chest. “I can’t tell if you’re calling me crazy or a liar.”

I heard Norm sputter nervously for just a moment before speaking again. “No, ‘m not callin’ ya either. But bigfoot don’t exist, pardner, there’s nothin’ I can do about that.”

There was a brief pause in conversation while I furrowed my phone-eyebrows. He totally thought I was crazy. That didn’t feel good. When I spoke again, I was a bit quieter. “Agree to disagree, then.”

The remainder of our journey up the ladder was completely silent, save for our breathing and the sounds of our shoes hitting the rungs. 

Eventually, Norm came to a sudden stop, huffing gratefully. “Finally,” he muttered under his breath. “A manhole. Lemme get this open.”

As he lifted the manhole cover from its place in the ceiling, I made the grave mistake of looking down, only to find an entire abyss beneath us. I couldn’t even see the bottom of the ladder. I sucked in a short, fearful breath and shot my gaze back upwards, trying to forget what I just saw. 

Norm finally got the manhole cover off and pushed it to the side with a grunt of effort. He mumbled unintelligably before climbing up the remainder of the ladder and out of the sewers. I followed soon after.

I was met with the sight of what seemed to be the backroads of Dialtown– what we considered the slums. Ramshackle houses and shops lined the worn asphalt, which was not wide enough to fit any cars. 

I took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet smell of crystal meth. Yep. This was Dialtown, baby. 

“Alrighty,” Norm said with a relieved sigh. “Outta th’ sewer and int’ th’ fire. Won’t get that smell outta my clothes fer years.” 

I found myself grinning at him, placing my hands on my hips. “I lived down there for like, a year, you’ll be fine.”

He briefly furrowed his eyebrows before shaking his head. “Well, y’know the way ‘round here. How d’we get t’ the Mayor’s office?”

I hummed in consideration, turning in a circle to get my bearings. I didn’t quite recognize the area– I tried my best to avoid this part of town. The Dialtown Mob operated out of here, and while I had learned first-hand that they were certainly not at all dangerous, I still liked to avoid them just in case they… I don’t know, put a whoopee cushion on my chair. 

“I’m… actually not sure,” I responded in a high-pitched voice. “I don’t come around here often. The Mob hang out here a lot, and I like avoiding minor inconveniences.” I turned to face Norm, lifting my hands in a helpless gesture. 

“Well,” he began, pulling his revolver from its holster “We won’t have any problems, far as I’m concerned. Yer safe.”

Wow. Alright, uh, okay. 

I metaphorically blinked away my sudden brain fog and took a breath. “Gotcha,” I said airily. “Should we just set off in a random direction, then?” 

“Or,” Norm lifted a hand as if I were overlooking the most obvious thing in the world, “we could ask fer directions.” 

“Hah!” I exclaimed, throwing my phone-head back. “Directions? In Dialtown? You really are an old soul.” I shoved my hands in my pockets. “Nobody knows their way around. I don’t think the people that were born here know how to get anywhere. It’s why everyone takes the subway.” 

The cowboy frowned, but sighed in resignation before lifting a hand to gesture over my shoulder. “Lead th’ way, then.”

I happily did so. As a matter of fact, I seemed to be the one leading him everywhere, despite him having the gun. Weird. I had only lived here two years, when he had lived there for like, his whole life. But sixty years ago. Wild. 

We wordlessly traversed the rinky-dink streets of Dialtown for a good few minutes. It seemed we were making good progress– but, of course, something had to happen. I couldn’t catch a break. 

When my internal GPS told me to turn a corner, I turned into a darkened alley occupied by a bunch of trash cans, old newspapers, and wanted posters. The scent of something dead filled the air, and I unconsciously hoped it wasn’t a human corpse. I passed a small doorway, followed shortly by Norm, when I suddenly heard the shuffling of movement directly behind me. 

I made to turn around, but was halted by the sensation of something cold and sharp pressing against the back of my shirt. I froze. Two Brooklyn-accented voices, sounding nearly identical, spoke at once, but said different things. 

“Youse in the wrong part o’ town, bozos!”

“Hands in the air, bozos!”

I turned my head to look over my shoulder, only to be met with the sight of two strangely-dressed men. They were both clad in purple velvet suits that looked like they were pulled straight out of the Party City packaging. The one closest to me, the one pressing the tip of a blade into my back, had a gun for a head, the one farthest from me having a knife for a head. The latter seemed somewhat familiar to me, but I couldn’t quite remember why. 

Norm seemed to be in a similar predicament to me, though his seemed a bit more dire. The knife-headed man wielded a strangely fancy-looking handgun with silver engravings on the barrel, and had it aimed at the back of Norm’s neck. Norm had his hands lifted in a pacifying gesture, and the look on his face was nothing but frustrated. All my brain seemed capable of thinking was “Ruh roh.”

The man pointing a knife at my back hurriedly turned me around, gripping my upper arm so he could brace the blade against my throat. I made a sharp intake of breath through my metaphorical teeth. Ruh roh again. He spoke, sounding annoyed. “C’mon, bro! We agreed that it was ‘you’re in the wrong part o’ town!’ ‘Hands up’ wouldn’t make any sense unless we both had guns!” 

The knife-headed man behind Norm sagged. “But, bro, we do have guns! The both of us! Yours is just… your face.” 

The gun-headed one fell silent. “...Touché, bro.”

Norm finally spoke up, seeming ten times more irritated than before. “An’ jus’ who th’ hell are you two?” He made no movements to get away from the firearm pressing into his neck. 

I felt the gun-headed one perk up behind me. The two mobsters seemed to take that as an opportunity to perform some sort of rehearsed introduction. They declared in perfect unison “Why, we’re Shooty and Stabby, the deadliest crime duo Dialtown has ever seen!”

I made a face before muttering “Who are you, fuckin’ Team Rocket?” 

The blade of the knife pressed harder into my throat, but didn’t even begin to break skin. I found that a little odd. The gun-headed one spoke behind me, “Last time I checked, you’re the one with a knife t’ your neck, bozo! I’d watch that mouth!” 

“I don’t have a m–” I plainly began before the knife pressed even further into my skin. I took that as a sign to shut the fuck up. 

“Hang on,” Norm gained a confused expression. “Which one o’ y’all is Stabby and which one is Shooty?” 

The mobsters completely ignored his question, much to my chagrin– I wanted to know too,-- instead informing us of their agenda. The knife-headed one spoke up first with “You two bozos are plannin’ to take out Mayor Mingus! She gave us direct orders to bring youse back alive and well!” 

The gun-headed one spoke next, shrugging. “Not sure why ya need to be alive, but hey, we’re getting paid either way!”

I shot a confused look in Norm’s direction. He gave me the same look. How the hell did these absolute lunatics catch wind of our plan? It had hardly been two days since we made it! We weren’t even sure what we were doing! 

The gun-headed one continued, nudging my arm with his free hand. “So just follow us to the patented Mayor Mingus Chevrolet and we can make this nice and easy, eh?” 

“Chevrolet?” I spat. “Really? Out of all the brands of car she could lend you, she gave you a Chevrolet? Does she even really care about you guys?” It was a weak attempt at beginning a negotiation, but it was all I had. Norm seemed to notice my attempt and made a face. 

The knife-headed one tilted his head. “O’ course she doesn’t care about us! But hey, we’re still gettin’ paid!” The mobsters roared with laughter. 

I stared at the man threatening Norm with a gun. Why did he look so familiar to me? The ridiculous suit, the dull knife-head, the fancy-ass handgun–

Wait just a phone-goddamned minute. 

“Wait! Aren’t you the guy that tried mugging me on the subway a while ago?” I pointed accusatorily at the knife-headed one, causing the blade to shift against my throat. 

The knife-headed one froze immediately and tensed, seeming to be scrutinizing my appearance. “Red phone-head, weird flannel and hoodie combination, bad posture–huh! I might have mugged ya, bozo!” His voice took on a giddy edge. “What a coinkydink! Small world, eh?” 

I fell silent, staring at him like he was the dumbest motherfucker in the universe. I looked at Norm and spoke flatly, “Norm, he doesn’t have any ammo, just shoot him.”

The cowboy paused, a taken aback expression settling on his sticky note. “...What?”

“I do too!” Exclaimed the knife-headed mobster, jolting where he stood. “Tons of ammo! And the dangerous kind!” 

“The fuck do you mean, the dangerous kind?” I questioned in a high-pitched voice. 

“It means they’ll kill ya, bozo!” The gun-headed one chimed in. 

I sighed exasperatedly and returned my attention to the knife-headed one. “If you have ammo, then shoot him.”

“‘Ey!” Yelled Norm, seeming frustrated once more. 

“No can do, bozo,” said the mobster, “gotta get youse to Ms. Mayor alive.”

“Then shoot him in the leg or something. It’ll make it easier to transport him, right?” I leaned in. “Go on, do it. Shoot him. You know you want to.”

There was an agonizingly long pause as I watched the two mobsters communicate silently. I could tell from their body language that I had taken them off-guard and the shit was about to hit the fan. 

Norm took this as an opportunity to lower his hand to his holster and retrieve his revolver, which he promptly lifted to aim in my direction. It looked like he was aiming at me. 

“Norm, what–” I started to question him before he pulled the trigger, practically deafening me with the sound of the bullet whizzing out of the muzzle. 

The gun-headed one lurched backward, taking the knife with him, and cried out in pain. I immediately whirled around and took a few steps back to create some distance between us. Had I been shot? It sure looked like he had been aiming at me. I looked down at the mobster’s hand to find that he had dropped the knife, and there was a bullet lodged in his skin. 

“You-Youse assholes! You shot me in the hand! This is my knife-holding hand!” He shouted at us, using his not-shot hand to grip the other. He was bleeding everywhere. 

I was completely shocked. How had Norm managed to shoot this guy’s hand without killing me in the process? Was his aim that good?

I hardly noticed the knife-headed one charging past me to help his partner, grabbing his hand to look at the wound. “Shit, bro, we gotta get you back to the Mayor, stat!” He pointed to the end of the alley. “Quick! To the patented Mayor Mingus Chevrolet!” 

The two of them turned and began running away from us. The knife-headed one turned and shook his not-bullet-afflicted fist at us. “We’ll get youse bozos! I swear on the Brooklyn Dodgers–”

“That’s Los Angeles, you fuckin’ losers! It was Brooklyn like seventy years ago--” 

They were gone. Lost to the sweet embrace of the patented Mayor Mingus Chevrolet. Poor bastards. 

I sagged. Good lord, why did I agree to do this? I just had a knife to my neck, and Norm–

I hadn’t noticed Norm approaching me from behind so he could lay a hand on my shoulder. I tensed. “Y’alright?”

There was something in his voice that sounded genuinely concerned. I didn’t think he was the kind of person to like… care about people. It felt strangely comforting.

I turned to face him, looking up at his bag-face. His eyes were averted, fixed on something to his right. “Yeah, I’m good. Didn’t think you were such a good shot.”

“Ya’d be surprised how years of free time an’ swarms o’ house flies can train a man’s aim,” he explained. 

We looked at each other for a moment. I looked at his hand, which remained on my shoulder. He seemed to have forgotten he had put it there and swiftly retracted it. 

Norm cleared his throat and tucked his hands behind his back. “Shall we continue?”

“We shall.” I turned to face the direction we came from. I did not want to go in the same direction as those two loser mobsters. If I could even call them mobsters. I was thankful for my position in front of Norm as we walked. He couldn’t see how confused I was. He had literally almost put a shotgun shell through my phone-head when we first met, and just now he saved my life from literal mafia members. And I found him admirable for it. What the hell was going on? I shook my head, hearing the components inside rattle. We had a pussycat to assassinate, and I’ll be damned if I wasn’t going to pull it off.

Yeein' On That 'Haw Ch. 0-- My Own Personal Dialup

I have to admit, out of all of the places to break into, a museum of vintage technology was possibly the most lame. 

It was late– late enough for the streetlights to be on. I always thought they were ugly. Their yellow hue made the attracted gnats and moths that much more visible, and it cast a gross light onto everything nearby. 

But at the moment, I couldn’t have been more grateful for those ugly lights. If it weren’t for them, I would have had to use a flashlight to disarm the security cameras of this museum. And my partner-in-crime was already becoming antsy and impatient. 

“Seriously, (Y/N)?” The dark-haired girl whined in a hushed tone. “It can’t be that hard to cut a couple wires.” She was bouncing in place, deep brown eyes flitting about the space for movement.

I turned to the younger, taller woman and narrowed my eyes. “Like you’ve ever done this before.” She pointed at the console I was messing with, her voice coming out a bit louder. “Well, if you’re gonna disarm the thing, then get it done already!”

A frustrated sigh left my cold, chapped lips as I turned back to the console. It was a little box attached to a power line pole, and it powered the immediate area. If I could just figure out which button to push, and which wire to cut, the entire museum’s power system would go down, and we could get in and out without a problem. 

“Got it!” I exclaimed, causing the other girl to hurriedly shush me. I shrugged apologetically. There was a brief crackling noise, followed by the sound of several switches flipping inside of the box. The next thing we knew, we were plunged into darkness as all of the streetlights, as well as the few remaining lights left on in the museum, flipped off. 

I stood from my knelt position and squinted, glancing around for any movement. There was nothing aside from my fellow soon-to-be criminal’s anxious shifting. 

“Okay. Let’s get this done and over with.” I whispered, nudging the girl. I could hardly see her, but she nodded hurriedly anyway. We glanced at either side of the empty street before darting across, our dark hoods obscuring us from any curious residents of the nearby apartments from peeking out their windows and seeing us. 

“Violet,” I hissed, grabbing at her shoulder once we had successfully crossed the street. “You scout the perimeter. I’ll get the ladder.” 

Violet only nodded, swallowing her anxiety before rushing to my right. I moved to the left and into an open alley, flipping the lid of a mostly empty dumpster open so I could grab the folded ladder we planted inside. I used what little strength I had to drag it out of the dumpster and onto the ground, where I then pulled it back to the front of the building. 

Just as I was finishing up my business, Violet jogged back around the corner, giving me a thumbs-up. “Help me out with this,” I whispered in her direction. She sped over to help me lift the ladder, propping it up against the museum wall and unfolding it so it reached the second floor. If we were going to have any luck pulling this off, we couldn’t go in through the main entrance. It was padlocked– and if there was one thing I learned from heist movies, it was that breaking a padlock was a surefire way to get found out and arrested. We were going to pry open and jump through a second-story window. I gestured to the ladder with a gloved hand. “After you.” 

My partner-in-crime made a mildly grossed-out face before taking a breath and beginning to climb the ladder. The sound of her heavy boots making contact with the rungs of the ladder made me wince. I really hoped that nobody could hear us. 

She reached the top and slung her legs over one of the rungs, effectively seating herself in a position where she could use her hands. She pulled her backpack off of her shoulders and reached inside, quickly retrieving a crowbar that we had bought from the Home Depot specifically for this. I hate to give Home Depot credit, but they have some nice chandeliers. And crowbars. 

Violet positioned the end of the crowbar at the base of the window to pry it open. Then she paused. She made a panicked, helpless gesture with her free hand before looking down at me on the ground. “It’s caulked shut!” She whisper-yelled. 

“It’s what shut?” I snickered. 

She frowned. I could see her displeased expression, even in this darkness. “I said, it’s caulked shut! Think brick and mortar. There’s no way I can get this open!” 

I placed my hands on my hips, beginning to panic myself. “...Can you try?”

“...Fine,” Violet huffed. She replaced the crowbar where it was before and pressed down on the opposite end, trying to get the caulk to break apart so she could pry open the window. She gave a frustrated grunt of effort, though it didn’t seem that she was making any progress. 

Then, in a moment of weakness, she gritted her teeth and reeled back, swinging the crowbar over her shoulder before slamming it into the glass of the window. It shattered after only one attack, sending glass shards flying into the building and out of the window frame. I watched, slack-jawed, as Violet covered her face with her forearm just in case any stray glass shards came in her direction. 

A moment of silence passed with Violet still seated atop the ladder and my body frozen in place. 

“...I hope nobody heard that,” I mumbled under my breath. Violet anxiously bit the inside of her cheek. “Yeah, me too. C’mon, get up here.”

I only hesitated for one more moment before beginning to climb the ladder. Violet slung her legs back over the rung and pulled herself through the broken window, myself doing the same. 

The museum was… nothing short of boring. It was just a bunch of vintage tech displayed. Typewriters, gramophones, rotary phones, radios… and not a single one in a case. That was why we decided to rob a vintage technology museum in the first place– none of it was in a case, and if it were in good enough condition, it would sell for a pretty penny at a pawn shop or antique store. 

I heard Violet huff before reaching into her backpack and pulling out a folded-up duffel bag. “Alrighty. Get grabbin’. Take whatever you think works or looks pretty enough to brag about to your cousins.” 

“...That’s oddly specific,” I muttered, but didn’t say anything more before I began having a look around. “And hurry,” added Violet, turning to kneel in front of a collection of borderline ancient typewriters. 

We spent the next ten minutes or so appraising various techs, from old keyboards to even older monitors. Then the conversation shifted to who would even buy something like this, which ended with us deciding that collectors and people still clinging to the past would buy something like this. 

I eventually got bored looking at the objects on this floor and gestured to the staircase with the hand that wasn’t holding the duffel bag. “Wanna head up?” 

Violet turned her head to look at me, eagerly nodding. Once we got past the initial break-in, it seemed that her easygoing personality re-emerged. She stood and jogged to meet me, and we then moved up the stairs. 

This floor was more my style. It was lined wall-to-wall with practically ancient arcade machines– pac-man, asteroids, space invaders, even the original Mortal Kombat. I couldn’t help but stare in awe. 

“Alright, forget the robbery, we have enough. I wanna take a peek at these,” Violet suggested. I immediately nodded in agreement. 

It was then that Violet and I’s easily-distractible nature got the better of us. What were we supposed to do? Not look at the awesome collection of arcade machines? To be fair, I was carrying around a duffel bag of incredibly heavy vintage technology, but it wasn’t heavy enough for me to let this opportunity go!

Because the power was off, we couldn’t do much with the machines, but we didn’t want to anyway. We were content with just looking at them. That was, until I was immersed in an anecdote that Violet was narrating to me about how she and her older brother would destroy each other at arcade games, and I saw a flicker of light out of the corner of my eye. 

I turned to face the light, immediately causing Violet to pause. “What is it?” She asked flatly. I pointed at what I was looking at, and she froze. 

One of the arcade machines had turned back on. It was the only source of light in the otherwise darkened room, and it illuminated the dingy yellow wallpaper and grey carpet. Man, this place was a dump.

I had never seen this arcade game before. It had quite a nice casing– one half of the machine was baby blue, the other half light pink. Various colorful characters decorated the sides of the case, all with some sort of old technology for heads. There was a vaguely heart-shaped logo on the marquee resembling two rotary phones, and on top of that were two large words in an attention-grabbing font.

“THE DIALUP.”

“Well, shit, who am I to not investigate something like that?” Violet scoffed before patting my shoulder and yanking me toward the machine. I wasn’t entirely sure why, but I was getting a little nervous. Well, I was nervous before this, but now I was feeling stomach-churningly nervous. 

Violet stood before the machine, leaning over to look at the characters on the sides of the casing. She chuckled and pointed at one in particular– a rather unfortunate-looking fellow with a phone for a head wearing a blue flannel. “Check out this guy. What a loser,” she chuckled. “Who wears a hoodie and a flannel?”

I gestured to my own clothing, which was largely the same. She shrugged. “I rest my case. You got a quarter?” 

My eyebrow raised before I fished around in my pockets, pulling out my only quarter. I knew it would be used for something. Violet snatched it from my hands and immediately inserted it into the coin slot. 

“Dude, no way you’re actually going to play this,” I snickered in disbelief as the title screen appeared on the monitor, accompanied by playful music. “It looks like some sort of terrible dating sim.” 

Violet moved the joystick upward and pressed one of the two buttons on the console, selecting New Game. A dialogue box popped up that read ‘What is your name?’ “Y’know what, just for that, I’m putting your name in,” she said smugly as she used the joystick to type in ‘(Y/N).’ I groaned. “Alright, whatever, but remember that we need to get out of here. We don’t know if anyone heard that glass break.”

Just then, the monitor went black. Violet frowned. “Damn. What a waste of a quarter.” She frustratedly slapped her hand onto the console. “I didn’t want to drown my loneliness in cartoon romance anyway. How was this thing even on in the first place? Didn’t you cut the power?” 

“You’re asking that now?” I chastised her. She shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m a ‘play mysterious cheesy arcade game now,’ ‘ask questions later’ kind of person.” I threw my hands up in a confused gesture. “It wasn’t even your quarter!”

Violet grinned, pressing the back of her pale hand to her forehead. “Oh, I mourn the loss of your quarter, my friend,” she droned in a dramatic, melancholy voice. I groaned loudly but quickly froze when I heard a distant high-pitched sound. 

My partner-in-crime must have heard it too, because she perked up, eyes widening. “Shit. We gotta go. Now!” She cried out just as I realized it wasn’t the whining of an arcade machine– it was sirens. Someone must have heard that glass break and called the police. 

I made a less-than-brave noise and turned to pick up the duffel bag from where I placed it next to the machine. But something caught my eye. The plug on the machine. It wasn’t attached to the wall. It was unplugged. What the fuck kind of voodoo demon bullshit was this?!

Right as I made to turn and get the hell out of that cursed museum, a high-pitched ringing sound attacked my ears. It wasn’t my tinnitus this time– it felt like it was in my head. Something was on the other line, and it wanted me to pick up.

I dropped the duffel bag and cried out in abject agony, gripping the sides of my head in an attempt to make the ringing stop. Before I clenched my eyes shut, I half-noticed the arcade machine flick back on, casting my shadow onto the carpeted floor with pale blue light. I also saw Violet rushing to my side before gripping my shoulders. 

Amidst the chaos, I could hardly hear anything. But what I did hear was Violet shouting at me, asking me what was wrong, what she could do to help. Then she yelled that the police were outside. I didn’t particularly care at the moment– I was on my knees, feeling like I was about to die. It felt like my entire head was melting off. 

I don’t know how much time passed. But I did hear the slamming of a door, which caused Violet to remove her hands from my shoulders. There was yelling and screaming from multiple voices. Some I recognized, some I didn’t. Heavy, departing footsteps. A distant impact. Glass shattering. Gunfire. 

And then there was silence. I could only guess that I had been beheaded– I was only missing the distant feeling of my head rolling across the floor. I never felt my body make contact with the dingy carpet. The blue light of the arcade machine enveloped my vision… and then it darkened.

Yeein' On That 'Haw Ch. 10-- Breaking and Entering or Dumpster Diving?

Once I finished assuring Norm that we wouldn’t be in this dumpster for long, I turned around to see if there were any, like… treasures I could fish out of the filth. Maybe if we found some C-4 in this dumpster, we would be able to counter Billy. There were some old banana peels, some burger wrappers, a couple paper cups and–

…There was a man in the corner. 

I immediately began screaming. What else was I supposed to do? There was a man curled up in this dumpster!

Well, I guess I was also technically in the dumpster, but I didn’t know this guy’s intentions. I hardly noticed over my own terror when the unknown man also started screaming. Norm turned around, expression disgruntled, and slammed a hand over my speaker. “‘f you don’t shut the hell up!”

I silenced myself, and the man’s screams died down shortly after. We stared at each other wordlessly for a time. Hang on a second, I recognized this guy! This was the guy I almost witnessed the murder of!... Actually, does it count as murder if it’s a swan? I like to think so. We were in similar boats, him and I. He just dealt with it… far more frequently. I also thought his entire being was funny. Like, he had a bandy-aid on his forehead that read ‘fuckface.’ That’s hilarious! Couldn’t quite remember his name, though. 

Norm immediately pointed his revolver at the man– not quite intending to shoot, but ready to if need be. “Who’re you?” He began.

The fuckface guy lifted his arms in a terrified gesture of submission, pressing himself farther up against the dumpster’s wall. “R-Randy! Randy Jade! Please– Please don’t shoot me!” His flip-phone-head’s screen flickered frantically between various colors, expressing panic. He seemed fucking terrified of Norm, though I could tell it wasn’t just because he had a gun. Now that I got a better look at him, myself and this guy were dressed pretty similarly: hoodie, flannel, some worn jeans– the only difference was the color scheme, of which he wore cooler-toned colors like blue and grey. Fit his overall vibe, honestly. Oh, and the bandages on his hands. Those were pretty wack. 

“Hang on, Randy Jade? The Randy Jade?” I took a step closer to the cowering man. “Like, phone-sex hotline Randy Jade?”

Wow, this was becoming better by the second. I had seen this guy around, but never quite made the connection that he was the same guy with the cheesy-ass introduction on the phone-sex hotline. I never imagined they could be the same person!

Both Norm and our newly-met friend froze. Norm looked at me with his most confused expression yet. “...Y’call phone sex hotlines?”

I paused. “Oh, right, uh,” I waved my hand dismissively. “For funsies. I thought it was funny that there was a phone-sex hotline in a city full of phones. Irony, y’know? I’m a curious person.”

Randy extended a meekly accusatory hand in my direction. “Are…Are you the person that heard my introduction and just… started laughing? Continuously? Until I hung up?”

I snickered at the memory. His introduction was ridiculous! “Yeah, that was me.”

“Oh.” I could practically hear the frown in his voice as his head lowered to look at the floor. “That really hurt my feelings.”

I suddenly felt overwhelming pity for this poor man. But now I was confused– why was he in this dumpster? Oh well, Norm still had a gun pointed at him, I might as well ask. “Say, Randal, what’re you doing in this here dumpster?”

“I live here!” Randy exclaimed, and immediately regretted it. He quieted down. “M-My jobs don’t really pay the bills, so I pay Bunny to let me live in his dumpster.”

Well, he gave us a location, so that was good. Outside Bunny’s Burgers. Christ, I hated that place. The burgers were dry as all hell, and always undercooked. I gestured to Norm to lower his firearm, which he did. “We’re good, Norm, he’s about as dangerous as a cold, wet sock.” Randy did not object to my analysis of his dangerous tendencies. Though, despite Norm having lowered his revolver, the poor man still seemed absolutely petrified of him.

“Does that technically mean we’re breakin’ an’ enterin’?” Norm mumbled to me. 

I paused. I actually wasn’t sure. “Nahhh, I think it just counts as dumpster diving. Not as illegal,” I whispered back to him. I returned my attention to the cold, wet sock of a man before us. “Randy, you’re cool with housing criminals for a little bit, right?”

Randy tensed. “Uh, well, I–”

I cut him off. “Great! We won’t be long.”

I turned to peek out of the little cracks in the dumpster’s walls. I could hardly see anything, but I’m pretty sure there was no Little Billy in the alley. I bit the inside of my cheek in contemplation, trying to think of a way out of this situation. Billy surely knew exactly where we were via some… magical child abilities, probably. We definitely couldn’t fight him, so we had to lose him somehow. 

“Any ideas?” I heard Norm mumble to my right. 

I slowly shook my head. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Well, I got one,” he continued before leaning in closer. He lowered his voice to say “We could always use that destitute feller over there as a distraction. Get ‘im t’ talk t’ the little varmint.”

I paused to contemplate his proposition. I looked at Randy. He did seem like prime Billy bait. If there was one thing I knew about Little Billy, it was that he loved tormenting people with too little self-respect to fight back. I tilted my head. “Huh. That’s not a bad idea,” I commented incredulously. “But how will we get him to do it?”

“I-I’m right here. I can hear you,” a slightly-offended Randy interrupted my thoughts. “What are you guys even running from?”

I didn’t answer his question, only approached to attempt a negotiation. “Randy, buddy,” I laid a hand on his shoulder, probably catching seven different contagious diseases (rabies included) as I did so. I felt the sad, sad man recoil under my touch. “We need you to do us a little favor.” Yes, speaking to him like he was a feral animal was my intention. He probably thought himself as one, anyway. “You like being a good person, right?” 

Randy didn’t notice that I was actually asking him a question until I stared at him expectantly. “Uh… y-yeah, I guess so.” He tried removing my hand from his shoulder, but I only squeezed harder.

“I thought so. Well, now’s your chance. You can actually do something for someone instead of sitting around like a limp, sweaty noodle.” A smile crept into my voice, but not onto my phone-face. “Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“Wh-What are you trying to make me do?” Randy asked. “I’ll do a lot, but there’s certain things I’ve had enough of!” He glanced at Norm. “I’ve dealt with enough cowboys at work that I don’t think phone-hell or heaven will let me in. I think I’ll just be stuck in a wild west style saloon for eternity.” He visibly shuddered. I couldn’t help but briefly question that in my mind, but decided not to talk about it. Norm looked mildly offended.

“We just need you to distract someone, Randy. It shouldn’t be that difficult, just make some crazy noises until we get away. Sound agreeable enough?” I lifted my hand from his shoulder, much to his relief. 

The swan-wrangler fell silent, gaze fixed on his tattered sneakers. “I’m not good at distracting people. I just kind of blend into the background,” he admitted. 

“Not when you’re screaming! You’re good at that, right? You do it a ton.” I lifted my hands in a somewhat motivational gesture, then glanced back at Norm to see if I was doing a good job. Norm only shrugged. 

There was another moment of awkward silence while Randy contemplated my proposition. He was taking a little too long to decide for my tastes, so I gestured to the yeehaw-man behind me. “Oh, and he has a gun. So you kinda have to do what we say.”

That seemed to do it. Randy tensed once more and frantically said “Okay! Okay, I-I’ll do it. Jeez.” I heard him add under his breath, “Why have I had a gun pulled on me thrice this week?” 

I decided not to question that last bit and retracted from Randy’s personal space. “Great! Now we just gotta wait until Billy inevitably shows up–”

“He’s outside,” interjected Norm, his bag pressed against a crack. “Better git on over here, kid.”

I nudged Randy, who hurriedly stood and awkwardly shuffled his way to exterior wall of the container, lifted the lid, and vaulted out. I stooped over to peer through a crack, just as Norm was. We both watched in stunned silence as Randy attempted to strike up a conversation with Billy, who immediately informed him of the grenade he had slipped into his pocket. 

While Randy panicked and fished said grenade from his pocket, Norm lifted the lid of the dumpster, jumped out, and then helped lift me out of it soon after. Thankfully, Randy had used some common sense and gotten Billy to turn his back to us. We began booking it to the end of the alley so we could get the hell out of there. 

Out of seemingly nowhere, Little Billy fucking appeared right in front of us. No, he didn’t like, run up and block our exit, he straight-up apparated. I yelped in shock and skidded to a stop, followed by Norm. 

“Hey, bozos! You should know better!” He vaguely gestured over our shoulders to Randy, who was still holding the grenade (which turned out to still have the pin in it) and seemed just as confused at how Billy blocked our way out. “Guys like him are boring! I need at least some resistance to my torment or it isn’t as fun! That guy doesn’t even have an ounce of self-respect!” I watched as Randy sagged and turned to slink back to his sad-man dumpster. Damn. Poor guy. 

“Jesus Christ, Billy,” I groaned exasperatedly, “Why are you even working for Mingus anyway? Is she even giving you anything?” 

Billy shrugged. “I dunno. Just because.”

I stared at him, dumbfounded. Just because? I guess I should have expected that. It was Little Billy, for phone-christ’s sake. He did all kinds of shit for no reason other than he felt like it. I shook my head to clear it of the confused fog that it was filled with. “Can you just, like… kill us already?”

“Nope! Gotsta keep you alive for the Mayor.” He balled his hands into fists and rested them on his hips in a display of ego. “No death for you, bozos.”

“I swear to Christ, I’m gonna wring your little neck!” I snapped and lunged forward to do just that. Little Billy practically cartwheeled out of the way and held up his hand in a pacifying gesture. I stopped. Man, I really was about to strangle a child. Wow. I heard Norm let out a relieved sigh through his teeth from behind me. 

“Y’know what? I like ya, bozo. You got balls,” Billy mused, not acknowledging the fact that I had just threatened to literally strangle him to death. “I think I’ll leave ya alone. Why not?” He paused for a moment, then perked up. I could pretty much smell the impish grin on his dumbass little phone-face as he reached into his pocket and retrieved a rectangular device from it. 

I fully thought he was about to like… shoot us with a bazooka or something, so I lifted my arms in a defensive gesture. He looked at me like I was the dumbest motherfucker on the planet and gestured confusedly in my direction. “Calm down, bozo, it’s not a bazooka. That’s in my other pocket. You should know this by now.”

I pursed my metaphorical lips. I think my concerns were valid. “Then what the hell is it?”

Billy extended the device in our direction, revealing a walkie-talkie-esque shape with an antenna extending from the top and a big red button in the center like a goddamn cartoon. It was clear what it was: a trigger. For what, I wasn’t sure. “A countermeasure,” the little shit stated, sounding like some sort of mentor in a superhero movie. 

“Alright, vague, but I’ll take it, why not?” I shrugged and extended a hand to receive the trigger. I noticed Norm bristle behind me, and gave him a brief look of concern. His expression remained stoic. 

“I’m gonna vanish from the story now, later, bozos!” Billy exclaimed, using two baby-carrot-ass fingers to salute Norm and I before… literally fucking vanishing. No smoke bomb or anything, he just… disappeared. I frantically looked around, trying to locate the little rat child, but finding nothing but shattered hopes and dreams. 

“...Christ,” I mumbled, resting a hand on my phone-face. “That kid is gonna kill me. Probably. Yeah, he’ll definitely be what causes my death.”

Norm spoke up, taking a place at my side, “Which ‘s why we won’t be usin’ that there trigger.”

I looked at him, confused, prompting him to continue. “Why not?”

After a sigh and some hesitation, he elaborated. “Y’said that kid ‘s basically th’ bane o’ everybody’s existence, right? I don’ trust anythin’ he gives us. We ain’t usin’ that. Might as well throw it away.”

I scoffed incredulously. “We shouldn’t throw it away. If it really is a countermeasure just in case our plan to assassinate Mingus fails– which I’m assuming that’s what he meant– we might very well need it.” I glanced around and leaned in closer to Norm. “As much as it confuses me to believe it, I don’t think Billy would lie about this, and this specifically.”

“And what ‘f it kills us ‘f we use it?” Norm’s voice gained a little bit of volume, which gave me pause. Did he really care that much? I recalled his earlier confession in the subway, and reasoned with myself that yes, he did really care that much. 

I hesitated for a moment. Maybe, I thought, I should just agree with him and throw the trigger away. But my instincts didn’t let me. I just had a good feeling about it– it might have ended up being the thing that saved our asses. Even if Billy supplied it to us. Fuckin’ weirdo. 

“I guess that’s just a risk we’ll have to take, Norm. I’m sorry.” I shoved the trigger into my pocket, being careful not to accidentally press the button in the process. Norm’s expression falled to discontent, and he visibly tensed. I began to worry that I might have pissed him off, but he would just have to deal with it. 

“Fine, you win.” He pointed an accusatory finger in my direction. “But ‘f we die when usin’ that, I’m blamin’ you.”

“You would have blamed me anyway, so I’m alright with that,” I half-joked while turning to face the end of the alley. “Let’s… find the cat, I guess.”

Norm sighed, beginning to follow me once more. “Love seein’ th’ enthusiasm.”

Yeein' On That 'Haw Ch. 2-- A Hot Cup o' Joe

Before I knew it, I was seated at Norm’s disheveled table, ceramic mug in-hand. The hot liquid inside was quickly heating up the material, making it almost painful to hold. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to have instant coffee on-hand, Norm,” I commented inquisitively. He shrugged, collecting his own mug from the small counter opposite me and leaning up against it. I noticed how he didn’t sit down. “Pays t’ ‘ave somethin’ hot on ya when it gets cold.” He used his free hand to gesture to the miniscule stove against the far wall. “That thing is my only source o’ heat in the winter.” He turned his head to the side in the general direction of the front door. “Got the coffee from some crippled feller who wanted to gimme a ‘housewarmin’ gift.’” He performed air quotes. “Scared ‘im off right quick.”

“Huh. So you’ve been out here for a while, then?” I tilted my head in his direction, choosing to ignore the fact that he presumably pointed a shotgun at a disabled man. And the fact that the disabled man was probably Jerry. Poor guy.

Norm nodded– almost solemnly. “That’s right. Been out ‘ere goin’ on three years.” He lifted his mug to where I assumed his lips were, paused when he remembered the bag on his head, then lowered the mug once more. Ha. Idiot. 

Not like I wanted to drink it myself. Since I got there, I’d hated how the people there absorbed nutrients. Sure, we ate, but I wouldn’t call it ‘eating,’ in the sense of there was a slot in the base of my head that I shoved food into and called it a day. I couldn’t even really taste it. Man, I missed actually tasting things. There was a vague essence of flavor in things, and I could still sense textures, but that was it. 

I hummed in acknowledgement. “I assume that Mayor Mingus has some involvement in you being sequestered in an abandoned shack in the woods.” 

Norm’s grip tightened on his mug. “Ya’d be assumin’ correctly, pardner. That dastardly feline thought it’d be easier t’ exile me than t’ deal with me properly.” 

If I had eyebrows, they would have lifted at that moment. “Mingus exiled you? I didn’t think she did things like that… or that she had the power to do things like that.” I paused to take a steadying breath. “I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised. It’s pretty obvious that she’s one corrupt kitty-cat.”

He scoffed. “Ya can say that again. I swear t’ all the powers that be, once I git my hands on that furry little–”

“Woah!” I interrupted him, holding up a finger. “Don’t finish that sentence. Lemme guess. You’re some kind of ruthless avenger who wants to heal his broken pride and compensate for his lack of action by unnecessarily harming those who have wronged you.” 

He fell into stunned silence. I realized I hit it right on the money and winced. Or I would have, if I had a face. 

Norm cleared his throat. “...I suppose y’ could say that,” he mumbled in a meek voice. 

“Ah, shit, dude, who am I to judge?” I leaned back in my chair and made a wide gesture with my arms. “I can understand why you would want her dead. She’s a corrupt politician who nobody seems to realize is corrupt. Not even that weirdly self-aware guy who lives in a dumpster knows what’s going on with her.” I paused. “Wait… why did Mingus exile you?”

The yeehaw man didn’t answer for a concerningly long time. He only stared at me, as if he were sizing me up. I could feel myself becoming increasingly uncomfortable. 

“Are ya stupid er what?” He finally resumed speaking, causing me to deflate in a mixture of relief and shame. “It’s cuz I ‘ave a head. A normal one, not some…” He pointed with an open palm toward my rotary head. “Plastic box.”

I felt my muscles tense at that comment. I couldn’t blame him for thinking that I have had this thing for a head since I was an infant. But… it still kind of hurt. 

“...Right,” I avoided his gaze for a moment out of discomfort. “So, you’re out here because Mingus doesn’t like people with flesh-heads. That feels almost sort of racist. Classist?... Dial-ist?” I shook my head, hearing the various components rattling about inside. Then I paused. “How do you have a flesh-head in the first place? I thought people around here got their heads replaced when they were babies?”

His sticky note face raised an eyebrow at my phrasing. “It’s a long story,” he didn’t comment on how I was speaking like I was a foreigner in a new country. 

“Well, do I have some good news for you, Mr. Space Cowboy!” I set my mug down on the table, making a soft clattering noise. I leaned forward, placing my elbows on my knees. “We quite literally have all night.” 

Norm stared at me for a long, awkward moment, sticky note displaying a reluctant, narrow-eyed stare. I heard him take a breath before sighing “Fine.”

“Yes! Okie-dokie, space-man, what’s the haps?” I leaned forward even further to the point where I was almost falling out of my chair. 

“Never ask me what th’ ‘haps’ are again.” He pointed a finger in my direction. “And quit leanin’ like that. Yer gonn’ git yerself killed.” I did as he said. I wasn’t going to die before I heard this story. 

Norm took a moment to organize his thoughts before taking a few slow, careful steps in my direction. “The long n’ short of it is that I’m a time traveler.”

I nodded eagerly. “Yeah?”

He paused briefly. “Yer not gonn’ question that?” 

I tilted my head at him. “You wouldn’t believe the shit I’ve gone through, man. Time travel is one of the more believable things I’ve heard in the last couple of years. What’s the context?”

He blinked at me questioningly before continuing. “I used t’ work for NASA back in the days o’ President Crown’s… presidency. Since I had sum experience in th’ Air Force, they stuck me on a special mission.” What kind of backstory was this? How old was this guy? “They sent me int’ a wormhole.”

“Ahh, this is starting to make sense!” I clapped my hands together. “Lemme try to guess what happens next–”

He cut me off with a firm “No,” and I raised my hands in submission. He continued with his story. “Moseyed on int’ the wormhole, came out the other side, n’ everything had changed. Turned out it had been a good sixty years since I left. I landed on Earth, and everyone jus’ casually had phones fer heads. Mingus didn’t like the fact that I was reluctant to git one o’ my own, so she exiled me.” 

I whistled. “Damn…” 

Norm raised a Sharpied eyebrow before sighing. “Yeah. It’s pretty damn tough. I don’t even know if my wife and kids are still around.” There was a melancholy edge to his voice that gave me a sinking feeling in my stomach. If he were in his late twenties when he left– and that’s being incredibly generous– his wife would be in her late eighties or early nineties. If they were any older (which was likely)… the prospects were not looking good. His kids probably all left Dialtown, as kids often do.

I took a sharp breath through my food hole (gods, it’s so gross) and rested a hand above my dial. “I’m really sorry to hear that, man. If it helps, I understand– we’re in sort of similar boats.” 

He closed the distance between himself and the table I sat at to set down his now-cold mug of coffee. “I don’t think y’do, pardner. I’ll bet money that ya didn’t even know quantum jumpin’ was a real thing until jus’ now.”

I draped my arms over the back of the semi-rotted chair I sat in. “Wanna bet?”

“Bet.” His voice became firmer as he folded his arms across his chest. 

A feeling of relief and triumph rose in my chest. I would finally get to tell somebody about what happened without sounding like a crazy person. I cleared my throat. 

“It all started with a very amateur museum robbery with my best bud…