“My friend, you are troubled.”
How can you tell?
“The public shrieking.”
“The cops are looking.”
Over there looks like a nice place to be.
“Yes, much nicer than here.”
Thank you for the help. Listen, man: I don’t want to insult you, but you are the biggest, hairiest motherfucker I’ve ever seen.
But you radiate such chill and good cheer.
Who are you?
“They call me the Wook of Wisdom.”
“Hey now. Doobie?”
I’d be honored.
DOOBIE SOUND, DOOBIE SOUND.
Can you help me get back to 2015, Wook of Wisdom?
“Do you have access to Time Sheath technology?”
Does everyone know about that?
“Things get around fast on the lot, man.”
“Plus, you know: you see Billy vaporate on one side of the RVs naked and being chased by a mixture of Huns and Time Cops, only to evaporate 100 yards later? One time, you write it off to the drugs. But it happens a lot.”
“They are not discreet men.”
“Anyway: can you get a hold of the Time Sheath?”
“Then this will be difficult.”
“Couple options: we can possibly drum circle you into the Dreamtime, but I am assuming you are not an Aborigine?”
I am not.
“Then you would be eaten by the Spiders of Thrag’na’r’r.”
Let’s avoid that.
“Yeah. Do you know any shamans?”
“Shoot. How many nipples do you have?”
What answer do you want to hear?
“Five. If you have five nipples, I can get you home immediately.”
“Shoot. I didn’t want to do this.”
“We must leave the sweetness, light, and kind grilled cheese of Shakedown Street to find what you need. We must journey to Rat Cat Alley!”
“It’s from Throwin’ Stones.”
Is that what he’s been saying?
“Yeah: Rat Cat Alley.”
Oh, okay. Good to know.
TO BE CONTINUED…