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Carl says, “Damn, that sucks man. What are you guys going to do?” “Welp, I guess we will just have to be alright won’t we? I suppose I don’t need to sleep on no bed tonight. I suppose I can just sleep out in an alleyway. It might rain tonight, but I guess that will just have to be alright, won’t it? I mean, I like sleeping in a bed, but then again some people like to eat cat shit, and others like to suck trucker dicks, so I guess that’ll just have to be alright, because opinions don’t count for much these days anyway,” speaks Douglas. Frank says, “Opinions are like assholes, if you don’t have one then you are full of shit.”

Carl says, “Hah, you guys crack me up you stupid sons-of-a-bitches.” “Hey, Carl, what’s the difference between you and a baby?” asks Doug. “What’s that?” asks Carl. “The baby has seen a pussy in the last six months.” “Good one, hey guys, did you know that Douglas here won a staring contest with a mirror? Yeah, he stared at it and it shattered.” “Hey, Carl, did you ever attempt suicide by beating your face in with an ugly stick? Because I can tell you got pretty close.” “Ahh, make like an asexual and go fuck yourself.” Douglas says, “Alright, see ya later masturbator.” “After while, pedophile,” responds Carl. Carl walks off into the sleeping quarters. Our three travelers depart from the homeless shelter, back into the dark night.

They begin walking aimlessly. “Frank, maybe Carl was right, maybe we should have higher standards for the goals we set,” says Douglas. “What are the benefits of high standards? Lower standards provide you with a longer list of satisfying options that are easier to attain,” says Frank. “Maybe you are right, and I do enjoy what we are doing, but… I dunno man.” “Look,” says Frank, “we have almost completed our mission. If you can think of something to aim for once this is over with, we can discuss it then.”

“Well, I think we do have some important small goal we might need to be considering right now,” says Doug. “What’s that?” asks Frank. “Where the fuck are we going to sleep?” asks Doug. Frank surveys the area. “That looks like a car lot over there, maybe we should go sneak into one of those cars and spend the night inside there,” says Frank. “It looks spooky,” says Bill. “I agree with Bill, but I am sleepy as shit,” says Douglas. “We should flip a quarter to decide whether we sleep here or keep walking,” suggests Bill. “You expect any of us to have any money on us?” asks Frank. “Hold on, man, I do have this lucky wheat penny,” says Douglas. “Alright, that’ll do, if it lands on heads we head on, if it lands on tails, we park out tails here,” says Frank. Douglas and Bill nod. Doug throws the penny up in the air and it lands on the street. All three of them bend over and squint their eyes. “Tails,” says Frank. “Lucky penny my ass, fuck this spot, let’s keep walking fellows, I’m getting an eerie vibe from this place,” says Douglas. Frank chuckles. “Well, well, well, two superstitions battling it out, how do you decide which one to put your faith in? The penny or the intuition?” asks Frank. “Shut up and walk,” says Doug.

The group finally arrives at a bridge by the highway. “Alright, now this seems like a decent place to lay our heads, doesn’t it Bill? Doesn’t it Frank?” Bill nods. “Sure,” says Frank. They walk up to the side of the bridge, and lay down there. Franks pulls out his book. “Ahh, shit!” exclaims Frank. “What’s the matter?” asks Douglas. “I left my fucking lantern on that truck.” “Welp, guess you can wait until morning to read then, can’t ya Frank?” “But reading also helps me get all soporific.” “Yeah, I know what ya mean, I mostly only read to help me to go to sleep. It’s funny, reading is one of those activities that is both hard work, and yet, it is also associated with sleep. I wonder what the great Testiclese would have to say on the matter,” says Douglas.

Frank lied down and looked up at the bridge blocking the stars. “We are too independent, do you know that Doug?” “How so,” asks Doug. “People always speak of the virtues of independence, but we don’t live in an independent world.” “We don’t?” asks Doug.” “Nope, we all depend on the sun to rise and our cars to run. Everything is interdependent. You have to learn to please people, Douglas. You can’t be self-sufficient and make anything of yourself. The world demands specialization, and specialization means that we must all be interdependent on each other.” “Huh,” says Doug.

“No one appreciates how well off they are these days. They imagine how good it would be to be king. But, do they realize that they live better than any king of the middle-ages ever did? None of those kings had air-conditioning, movies, video games, cell phones, or refrigerators. They had to shit in a chamber pot, because they had no plumbing system. No one appreciates how well off they are. The whole town would smell like shit back then, because feces would be flung into the streets. The trickle-down system works after all, if people understood what it meant. It doesn’t mean that income equality will be reduced, but rather it means that even if you suffer the worst income inequality you will still get some of the benefits of a modern society passed to you, or rather, technological benefits will trickle down to you. Money won’t trickle down, but reduced prices will. Even us, we are all capable of reading, we are all literate, even if some of us refuse to take advantage of that. We just got fed a decent meal earlier, and we enjoyed an air conditioned building. You got to play the guitar and socialize. But, no one understands that things are only getting better year after year. What is the chief concern about poor people these days? That they are obese? That they eat like shit and could die of a heart attack from over-consumption? I could imagine the impoverished people of long ago fantasizing of a future utopia where even the poorest citizens of the country would be able to die the perfect death, eating until their arteries clogged and they died of being too fat. We are living the dream. And people are bitching about consumerism? The complaint being that we have too much shit, and too much distraction? Distraction from what? Misery? Are we forgetting how miserable we used to be, before we had so much shit to keep us entertained?” rants Frank Ziska. Douglas seems to have passed out. Frank looks over at Bill. Bill seems to be spaced out, or possibly praying.

“The problem is a concept called relative deprivation, I learned the term from Malcolm Gladwell, if I recall correctly. Did you guys know that the highest suicide rates are in countries that have the highest standard of living? It turns out to be true, that misery veritably does love company. People don’t care about how well off they are if other people have it better than they do. People want to see people suffer as much as they do. I guess it’s similar to the crab mentality they speak about in the Philippines,” speaks Frank Ziska.

“Anyway, it’s hot tonight, I’m taking off my pantaloons.”

Morning approaches, and our three vagabonds start to toss and turn, still under the bridge. Somebody in a car shouts, “Get a job ya bums!” Frank says, “I’ve got one, sitting on my ass 24/7, the pay is shit, but the benefits are worth it.” Frank picks up his book to read, but a cop stops under the bridge. The cop and his partner get out and starts to question Frank, “Why don’t you have your pants on?” “It is hot out, I couldn’t sleep.” “Put your pants on,” says the officer. “Why should I put on clothes to appease your eyes? I feel more comfortable like this. If anyone doesn’t feel comfortable staring at me, then they can gladly choose to look the other way. Why should I be forced to be uncomfortable just because the common man doesn’t know how to avert his eyes when he sees something he doesn’t like?” “There could be kids, did ya think of that?” asks the officer. “Well, god forbid they see a man in his underwear. And shall we outlaw mirrors for children too, so that they won’t see themselves getting dressed? And shall we forbid them to look down at their bodies when they are in the bath, for fear that they might be exposed to images of genitalia, be it their own or not, why should that matter?” rants Frank Ziska.

“Sir, if you don’t put your clothes back on, I will haul your ass to jail, do you understand?” asks the cop. “You would deign to provide free room and board?” asks Frank. The partner says, “Ahh shit, Ron, you know we can’t haul these bums into jail. They will only thank us.” “Yeah,” says Frank, “we can’t let people think that modern justice is hospitable or anything. Justice is about wrath, and punishment, and should only be used to make people happy in the sense that others get a kick out of the suffering of others. That’s why jail exists, and why people want hell to exist. We can’t stand the sight of everyone having a good time, even our enemies. No, someone needs to suffer, while we have a good time. It makes everything complete,” rants Frank Ziska. “Jack, relax, I’ve got this. Now listen here bum, I may not arrest you, but I can take you somewhere and beat the shit out of you, and no one will care, nor believe you, if you say anything, do you understand me?” asks officer Ron. “Welp, where a gun begins, morality ends. I will put my pants back on if I am coerced into doing so. Whether I believe it to be an injustice or not.” Frank puts his pants back on, and Officer Ron and Jack get back in their vehicle. Frank spots a BBQ pork sandwich on the dash of their patrol car. Frank points to the sandwich and says, “Woah there boys, that’s cannibalism.” Officer Ron gives him a look before departing the scene.

Douglas is sitting up now, and says, “Tsk, tsk, tsk, you know, Frank, sometimes I think you aim to be the world’s #1 loser.” “Good, I’d be honored to finally hold a record. “Mr. Frank Ziska, you really have no dignity at all, do you?” “Tell me, Douglas, what is this meretricious item you call Dignity?” “Respect for yourself, and for your body, Frank.” “Ahh, so I am the one disrespecting my body by being comfortable with showing it off without any shame to the world? Yes, maybe you are right, maybe the Muslim man who hides his woman under hijab and more is doing it because of this virtue called dignity. Yes, Islam, not just the religion of peace, but also the religion renown for respect for women’s rights. Dignity is a word used for ‘whore-shaming’ and is usually followed by a command of ‘hide your shame.’ But, good sir, Douglas, isn’t it they who should hide their shame, by shutting the fuck up? Isn’t my body mine to respect in my own way? Isn’t respect something that the individual can decide, but shouldn’t be left up to those outside the individual to decide? Isn’t that the whole point of respect? So, isn’t it they who disrespect me and my body, when they say my body shouldn’t be seen by those in public? They project shame onto my body, but it is they who feel ashamed. They are ashamed of their human body, but I am not of mine. I am respecting my body, by not hiding it. I am telling my body that I am not ashamed to be seen in public with it,” rants Frank Ziska.

Bill asks, “Is that why you scratch your ass in public then, Frank?” “Well, you’d like to yourself wouldn’t you Bill? But that meretricious modesty imprisons you to endure that niggling sensation. What good has modesty done for you or for society? No, true progress would be overcoming threadbare pseudo-virtues like modesty and dignity,” says Frank.

Another bum on the other side of the road is holding a sign that says, “Will Work For Food.” A van approaches the bum. “That’s a construction van, Frank. I know one when I see one. I sure miss riding around in one.” They overhear the driver of the van offering to give work to the fellow vagrant. The vagrant just grits his teeth and says, “Get out of here; keep driving.” “Well, I guess some people just want the free handouts and would rather not work. Construction isn’t a trade for everyone, is it Frank?” asks Douglas. “It wasn’t my favorite line of work, but it has its charms,” says Frank.

Another car pulls up next to our three vagabonds, and a teenager, maybe young adult, steps out. The kid is wearing a shirt that says, “Eat Right. Stay Fit. Die Anyway.” The kid motions for them to come over. Only Douglas gets up and moseys on over there. He notices that there is another young fellow in the passenger side, and another chap in the backseat. “Well, hello there, fellas. What is it that you need to inquire with me about?” asks Douglas. “Look,” says the kid, “I need some more people to ride with us. We have some people we need to fuck-up, ya’understand? I’ve seen bum fights; I know you fellows are capable of fucking shit up, because you guys just don’t give a fuck anymore, and you will slit your mother’s neck for a nickel. So, if you hobos would be interesting in joining my gang for a quick minute, I will…” the kid walks around to his trunk, and opens it, “…be willing to provide you all with some cheese sandwiches.” The trunk is filled with cheese sandwiches. “Why the fuck do you have so many cheese sandwiches, kid?” asks Frank. “So, I can recruit an army.” “You plan on recruiting an army of homeless people to do your bidding by luring them out with the promise of a cheese sandwich?” “Well, some of them have turkey in them, but that costed a bit more, but if you do a good job… who knows, man. I might even give ya two turkey & cheese sandwiches.”

“Kid, you’re crazy, but I tell ya what, my friend Frank over there,” Doug points to him, “will probably suck your dick for a sandwich. Hell, he might even suck all three of your dicks so all of us can get a sandwich.” “Hey Bill! You want a sandwich!?” shouts Doug. “Yeah!” shouts Bill back. “It’s only got cheese on it!” shouts Doug. “I don’t mind!” shouts Bill. Doug shouts, “Hey Frank, come suck this guy’s dick so we can get a sandwich.” The kid says, “No, that’s fine.” The kid pulls out his wallet and says, “Look, I have a fat wallet, how about I pay you in cash after the job is done?” Douglas laughs and says, “Kid, the day of the fat wallet symbolizing wealth is over, now it is a symbol of poverty. The rich now keep all of their money on a debit card or a credit card or two. You probably have that thing loaded down with store loyalty discount cards. I bet your Food City card got you a great deal on those cheese sandwiches, though, didn’t it?”

Frank walks up to them and says, “Alright, whose dick is it I have to suck to get this sandwich?” The kid says, “You aren’t getting any sandwiches for sucking dick, you faggots.” Frank says, “Alright,” and points to the kid and then to his friends, “I’ll suck all of your dicks free of charge, just because I love it so much. I just ask you to let me swallow, because a poor bum like me needs his protein shake.” The kid says, “If you cock-suckers don’t get away from my car right now, I’m going to beat the ever loving shit out of all of you.” Frank leans on the car, staring at the kids inside, and runs his tongue side to side on the window pane.”

“That’s it you mother fuckers.” The kid punches Doug in the side of the head, and the two other kids pop out and start wailing on Frank. Bill runs over and pops one of the kids, and knocks him out. Frank and Douglas are clutching themselves on the pavement. The kids still standing focus their attention on Bill. One grabs him and pushes him up against the car, while the other one unleashes a barrage into his gut. Frank spots a brick laying by the road, picks it up, and nails the kid wailing Bill with it. The kid retreats and tends to his injury. Bill head-butts the little shit behind him, and breaks his nose. The three little bastards get back into the car, and drive off.

Frank laughs. Douglas says, “Shit, Frank, you’re crazy. You almost got us called. Bill is a badass though. You can’t underestimate him. One time when we were building a house together, he punched the fucking wall, and I swear to god it crumbled to the ground. Witnessed it with my own eyes.” Bill came to join them, clutching his stomach, and groaning. Bill manages to finally ask, “What the fuck did you idiots do?”
“I don’t feel like walking all day again, let’s get to the bus station,” says Frank. “With what money, you retard?” asks Doug. “Leave that up to me,” says Frank. “Jesus, Frank.” Douglas shakes his head.

They arrive at the bus station. “Well, Frank, your move,” says Douglas. “I got this,” says Frank. A gentleman walks past them, and Frank gets up and approaches him. Doug watches. “The hell? Get away from me you sick fuck!” yells the gentleman. “No luck, huh?” asks Douglas. “I’m gonna go hang out in the restroom, maybe I can find a Republican Senator in there.” Frank enter the restroom. Douglas looks over at Bill, and Bill has his eyes closed, with his hands together, engaging in a silent form of glossolalia, with only his lips moving, but devoid of sound. Bill is rubbing his belly. Doug shakes his head.

About twenty minutes later, Frank comes out of the bathroom. Douglas looks over at him. “I got some ching ching!” says Frank. “Whose dick did you have to suck this time?” asks Douglas. “No, not at all, Douglas, simply a handy this time.” Douglas shakes his head. “Doesn’t that shit gross you out, Frank?” “Gross is a state of mind that needs to be overcome, Douglas. It is human weakness. Wouldn’t you rather live in a world where you didn’t find things gross? Especially if engaging in that activity promoted further advancement into whatever goal you have set for yourself?” “Easier said than done,” says Doug, “if what we enjoyed was a choice, anyone that was in distress would be a masochist.” “Well, that’s the fun of a challenge, the hard part, isn’t it?” asks Frank. Douglas doesn’t say anything. Frank tosses a few bucks at Doug and says, “Procure me a drink, Douglas.” Doug gives him a look. “C’mon now, there is a convenient store adjacent to this building, get something alcoholic this time, I feel like singing dithyrambs to Dionysus for a change to take a break from following the light of Apollo. Or, I can go get my own drink, and it’ll be your turn next in the restroom,” says Frank. “Welp, I guess that’ll just have to be alright.” Bill snaps out of the trance and says, “Ohh, and get me one too! My stomach is still killing me.”

Doug returns with the alcohol, and they sit right outside of the bus station, while drinking. “I thought you said you went straight edge, Mr. Ziska,” says Bill. “No, no, no, I specifically used the term semi-straight edge,” says Bill. “There is no such thing, Frank.” “Even better, it means I’m an innovator now.” Doug asks, “So, tell me about this semi-straight edge, business, Frank. How does it work?” “Well,” Frank says, “It provides the ultimate freedom of being right in the middle, without prison bars on my left or prison bars on my right. It means that I am not self-imprisoning myself by refusing to try a certain substance for arbitrary reasons, but at the same time, I won’t let myself become imprisoned by habits or addictions. I can try whatever I want, so long as I don’t become dependent on them, and I have the power of will to do this without total abstinence. You might call me Epicurean, but even Epicurus perfect moderation was a specific control method. I am free to indulge whenever I may choose, though I rarely choose to engage at all, and when I do it isn’t to escape this world, but only to amplify my enjoyment of reality.”

Frank looks at Bill, who is still clutching his belly, “Bill, are you alright?” “I’m fine.”

The bus arrives, and our trio of adventurers begin their approach through Gatlinburg and into the Smoky Mountains. “I should have told you to pick up something to eat,” says Frank. “Welp, too late now,” says Douglas. Frank reaches around under his chair, and then puts his hand to the floor. He finds a chip, and throws it in his mouth. Doug shakes his head. “Frank, I just have no more words left for this shit.” Frank says, “If what you are going to eat isn’t going to taste bad or cause you any health problems, why dig for psychologically gross issues for reasons not to eat a certain food?” Doug says, “Eating chips off the floor of a public bus might not be the healthiest shit to eat, Frank.” Frank shrugs and says, “I’ll take my chances.” Frank turns to Bill, and says, “Frank here used to look forward to kids egging his house, so that he could make breakfast.” Bill laughs. Frank continues, “Hell, one time Frank was eating a chocolate bar inside of a Walmart, and I told him he was stealing it, but he told me that he'd return it to their restroom in about 30 minutes.” Bill continues laughing.

Douglas says to Frank, “I took up for you the other day. Someone said that your mom was easy, but I told them it took you a lot of work.” Frank continues looking out the window, seeing the bus pass go-kart arenas and bungee diving stations, but not responding. “Frank, I’m implying that you used to fuck your mother, you there, Frank?” Frank stats laughing. “What?” asks Douglas. “Diogenes in furs,” says Frank. “The fuck does that mean?” asks Doug. “It would take too long too explain, and explaining it would ruin the fun. I get a kick out of referencing inside jokes that no one gets, and this is one of those ultimate inside jokes, because it’s totally inside my head. It’s a joke that only my mind and I understand.” No one says anything for a moment.

Finally, Frank speaks again, “Do you know what I like about these public busses the most?” “The free food,” asks Doug. “No, I like that no one is wearing a suit. I’m glad I’m not the kind of ‘successful’ that we have talked about recently, because look at all those people on TV. They all wear the same fucking suits. Maybe they have a different colored tie, or something like that, but it’s always a god damn suit. Seeing suits makes me sick. Not that I have a problem with them intrinsically, but I just wish politicians and television pundits could change up their wardrobe every once in a while. But now, look at these poor people on this bus, and the poor people you see shopping at Walmart. These are the people who always wear something exciting and unpredictable.” Douglas interrupts and says, “Like those goofy fucking pajamas?” “Precisely, and the best thing about pajamas in that they come in a variety of colors in styles. But, some poor people don’t even wear pants.” “Huh, sounds familiar,” Douglas interrupts again. “…or shirts. I don’t know whether it is because they don’t give a fuck or not, but I appreciate the visual variety that they offer my eyes, so I’m glad for that.”

“When’s the last time you got laid, Frank?” asks Douglas. “Do the hand jobs and blowjobs count?” Douglas shakes his head. “Ya know, Douglas, I think women might be right when they say that a man thinks with his penis. I think the brain must be in the penis, Douglas, I think it would explain a lot. That’s why men think with them, and women don’t think at all. Is that something the wise Testiclese spoke of?” asks Frank. “I think so,” says Douglas, “and it makes me wonder just how big of a dick Einstein had on him.” “And what are you thinking about over there, Bill?” asks Frank. “I hear when you flush your toilet that fecal matter will rise up and spread out onto all your bathroom items, such as your toothbrush, I wonder if that’s true.” Douglas says, “Well, that would explain that shit-eating grin you always have on your face.” Bill smiles.

Douglas says, “You two sure confuzzle the fuck out of me. Bill is always speaking about Jesus or random shit, and Frank, you are always saying meaningless philosophical shit. You are thoroughly unpractical.” Frank says, “My philosophical premises allowed me to get us bus tickets didn’t it?” Douglas says, “I don’t think it was philosophy that made you good at sucking dick or jerking off cocks. Really, Frank, what good is philosophy for? Will it get me a job? How about a car or a beach house?” "No, philosophy probably won't do any of those things, but all of those things you do for philosophy." “How so? Why do you say that?” asks Douglas. "Why is it that you want those things?" asks Frank. “Because they would make me happy.” “How do you know?” asks Frank, “And what about them would make you happy? How long will they keep you happy?" Douglas speaks, “Alright, I'm not going down this path with you again, it takes too much time. It's common sense why I want those things.” "And the common people are known for their excellent sense of sense aren't they?" “Gaw dangees Frank, are you fucking with me?” "You like fucking with Bill don't ya?”

Suddenly, the bus breaks down. Doug speaks, “Welp, guess the gods are after me again. Just my luck. I guess that’ll just have to be alright, though, won’t it guys?” “Ohh, guys, in all seriousness, this is a really bad sign. We should get off this bus, I think,” says Bill. “Calm down,” says Frank. “Hmm, I was sorta joking at first ya know, but maybe Bill is right, I’m starting to get that feeling too,” says Doug. “Ohh, yee fucking retards,” says Frank, “I expect this from Bill, but come on Douglas, you’re smarter than that. You know there is no God.” Doug says, “No, it’s not God, its Karma.” “Karma? What have we done wrong?” asks Frank. “Maybe it was you sucking all those dicks, I don’t know, but I know this is a bad sign,” says Douglas. “Ohh, for fuck’s sake, Doug, if Karma exists then why did Anne Frank die so young and in such poor condition, and why are shady businessmen like Donald Trump and Rupert Murdoch still alive and living the good life? Does that make sense to you? And karma requires judgment of justice. How can you have judgment without a conscious being that is doing the judging? And if this omnipotent justice exists, what can you call it other than God? No, Douglas, if you believe in Karma, then you must also believe in God. The two are inextricable from each other,” rants Frank Ziska.

“Look, I just feel it, okay. I don’t have time to rack my brain over your bullshit sophistry. Bill and I are getting off this bus and we will walk the rest of the way to the Smoky Mountains. Join us if you like,” says Douglas. Frank shakes his head. “Fine, you fucking superstitious morons, I’ll entertain your bullshit.” The three of them departed from the potentially haunted bus, and begin their trek again on foot. They walk through the beautiful town of Gatlinburg in Tennessee.

They finally arrive at the Smoky Mountains. “Welp, this is our final adventure in the tree state boys, so let’s pick a proper trail to walk on. We only get one shot, so make it a good one,” says Frank. “Oooh! This one looks good! You can walk behind a waterfall. It is called Grotto Falls,” says Bill. “Well, let’s do this shit then shall we?” asks Douglas. “Yes, lets,” says Frank.

Our trio of adventuring vagabonds walks up the steep tree infested mountain. They see beautiful streams as they go, and they look over the edge of the cliffs, and see beautiful vistas. Finally, they reach the climax. They see the waterfall, and they stand behind it, looking out through the translucent crashing waves. Frank Ziska sticks his head out into the water, and says “C’mon fellows, let’s get wet.” “No,” Doug says, “I’m just enjoying the view.” Bill, clutching his stomach again, begins to rant for the first time.
“Guys, how can you see these beautiful creations, and doubt for a second that there is a God? I’ll become an atheist once I see the Mona Lisa paint itself, but until that day comes, I stand back in awe. Look at the trees here, look at those birds, and look at the water. How can this exist without a painter? Did the canvas fall and land in just the right organization of paint?” Frank is still enjoying the waterfall, and says nothing. Douglas speaks up, “Yeah, well, if God is such a swell painter, then why is it that he gave up after he painted the Earth, huh? And why did he abandon the Universe to utter chaos? Tell me that then, Bill. Why did he abandon us?”

Bill continues his rant, “Because everyone stopped believing.” Douglas says, “Do you know how many Christians there are in the world, Bill?” “They call themselves Christians, but then they mock every person that really believes. They tell us that the bible is up to subjective interpretation. They justify homosexuality, even though the bible expressly forbids it. It says it right there in the bible, but yet, these nominal Christians think they can interpret the words of God in their own way. And you call those Christians? I was gifted with the Holy Ghost, and God talks to me personally. I was given the ability to speak in tongues, by Jesus himself. Yet, ‘Christians’ call me crazy. I wouldn’t mind being called crazy by people that didn’t accept that label, but coming from people that think they believe as I do, it’s downright insulting. They should know better. Sometimes, I think maybe Nietzsche had a point. Not that God is dead, but that the ability for the common man to know God, that is dead. The day when I could speak to my fellow believer about the truth of Heaven and salvation is over. Now, every liberal Christian tells me that atheists, homosexuals, and Muslims go to Heaven. Not just Heaven, but their own form of Heaven. They think that you can choose your after-life like you can choose what restaurant you want to eat at. What the fuck is wrong with these fools? They will burn in hell. And you, Douglas, you will burn in hell if you don’t change your ways. Frank as well, but he isn’t listening now. And you think I say this as an enemy, but I don’t. I say this as a friend. The nominal Christian doesn’t care what happens to your soul, but I warn you like a man shouting at a kid standing in front of an oncoming train, I say, ‘Get off the trucks you fool, or you will be run down and your guts will coat the tracks.’ So when I tell you how horrible your suffering will be in hell, understand why I do it, because it is my duty as a Christian.”

Douglas pauses for a moment, and says, “I think, despite the fact that you are a fool about this matter, that I respect you in a way for saying it like you did. I can understand how you feel, Doug. However, to be honest, hell really doesn’t sound that bad to me. I’m sure I’d adjust to the temperature after a few hundred years, and the winters would always be pleasant.” “You jest, Douglas, you jest, but these are serious matters, so I wish this one time you would try to speak seriously. Frank pisses me off sometimes, but at least he is serious about matters,” says Bill.

“Fine, then, Bill, let me ask you this: How many people, percentage wise, do you think will end up in hell?” asks Douglas. “I’d say at least maybe 90% if not more, but I’m not the judger, so I couldn’t say for sure.” “So, you are telling me that God’s job is to educate us and to save our soul, and yet he fails 90% of the time? With a failure rate like that, any teacher would be fired, Bill.” Frank steps out from the waterfall and jokes, “Obviously, Doug, you’ve never attended community college.”

Doug speaks again, “Besides Bill, if I had a choice, I'd be a Scientologist. It is the best religion money can buy. You know Frank became religious the other day. Yeah, he looked in the mirror and found God. Ohh, and Bill, the next time you find God. Please... take a fucking picture.” Douglas says, “Well, at least you believe in something, Douglas, but Frank doesn’t believe in anything.” Frank says, “When a religious person says that an atheist believes in nothing, it is more telling of how few things a religious person truly believes in.” Bill shakes his said, looking a bit despondent, and says, “If religion is blind optimism, full of wishful thinking, then atheists are blind cynics.

Frank looks up at the sky, and says, “C’mon guys, we still have to get to North Carolina, to finish this up.

They find another train leading out of Tennessee and into North Carolina, and they hop into another box car. Douglas throws his guitar case inside, and opens it up. “Alright, good friends, lets play a goodbye song for Tennessee. How about Don McLean’s ‘Castle in the Air’?” Bill, for once, isn’t saying much. Frank turns to Douglas and nods. Douglas begins playing.

They are about to arrive in North Carolina. “Guys, here it comes, are you excited or what? This is what we worked hard to accomplish.” “I’m ready,” says Frank. “Are you ready over there, Bill?” Bill doesn’t respond. Douglas walks over to him and shakes him. Douglas stands there for a moment. “Frank, I think Bill is dead!” “What!?” Frank walks up to Bill and starts shaking him frantically. “He’s not moving, Frank!” Frank turns him over and slaps his face. “Frank, don’t do that, it’s fucking disrespectful!” “I’m trying to wake him up you fool! He’s not dead, why would he be dead?” “He was clutching his stomach the whole time, I’m not sure if you noticed. You are always spacing out into abstract thought, but I saw it. I didn’t know it was this bad, but.” Frank looks at Douglas and says, “Then it’s my fault? I brought this along, because I was acting like an idiotic fool to pester those little shits earlier?” “Nah, of course it ain’t your fault man. You didn’t know what was going to happen. You aren’t a psychic. Things just have unforeseen consequences. You can’t beat yourself up over it.” Frank sits down, looking emotional for the first time, but not yet crying.

Doug pauses a moment, and says, “Well, what are we going to do with the body? Bury it?” Frank says, “What’s the point? Chunk that shell out of the train.” “Are you fucking with me again, Frank? This is Bill!” “No, it isn’t it’s a shell. It’s like keeping old clothes and saying that the clothes are your friend, because he use to wear them. Bill’s consciousness, or soul if you prefer, is no longer in there, do you understand me, Douglas?” Douglas says, “Well, it seems disrespectful.” Frank responds, “It’s not disrespectful to Bill, you only find it disrespectful to yourself, because you haven’t analyzed the situation properly. Now, I’ll grab the legs, and you grab the arms, and let’s toss him into the woods. Maybe the animals can eat his flesh, and it can go to a good cause. Just like giving away an old sweater so that someone else can find some use in it. Bill won’t need this old carcass anymore, whether he is in Heaven, or Candy Land, or non-existent. This thing no longer serves a purpose for him.” Douglas shakes his head, but follows the advice, and they chunk Bill outside of the car.

“The wise Testiclese says you may lose everyone you love, but a necrophiliac will love everyone you've lost,” says Douglas. Frank responds, “We can either laugh or cry in these situations, Doug, and I think you've made a noble choice.” “It was a joke, maybe in bad tastes, but I’m still not laughing.” “Well, it’s a start.”

“I just feel bad that Bill never got to finish the mission, ya know? I wish he would have at last been able to make it into North Carolina, before departing, ya know? Gaw dangees, I just… I just, I don’t know,” says Douglas. “Doug, the point of goals isn’t to accomplish them while living, but rather to give you a distraction before you die. It’s fine for him to die like this, like a soldier dying in the line of duty. The most depressing thing in the world would be to meet every goal you have set for yourself while you remain living. It would be like a movie that has reached its climax, but the credits never stop rolling.”

Frank pauses for a moment, and says, “Douglas, we must give ourselves goals. We must keep improving ourselves, every day. We must compensate for our deteriorating health and our soul being sucked out slowly into the void, which is the final destination. As long as you are alive, you have time to do the things you regret not doing, and when you die, you have no awareness of regrets, so no one should worry about dying with regrets. Death is our home. Life is our travel vacation. Before we were alive we were dead, and when our vacation is over, we return back to our default state. We return home. We are just renting these bodies like a getaway beach house, and we have to deal with the accumulated depreciation of them. But, Doug, I don't want to live life as an Ouroboros eating my own tail slowly as life fades away.”

Frank continues, “But maybe I'm wrong, maybe we should kill our fantasies. When you have a fantasy, you feel a sense of jealousy toward those that you think got to experience that fantasy. By living out what you imagine to be great, you get to kill that fantasy for both you and the target of your envy. You get to share a knowing glance with that person that says ‘that's it?’ Maybe that is why the rich are more likely to kill themselves than the poor. The poor can stand in shit while looking at the mountaintops, with some struggling to escape the shit, while the rich stand atop and get the full view... that it's a whole shit mountain and when they look up they see nothing more to climb upwards for. At least when you have nothing, you have the hope of something to look forward to, but what happens when you have everything and realize that everything is shit? Is it better to have nothing and think everyone has something better than you or to have everything and realize ultimately it is nothing? Goals are just waypoints on shit mountain, Doug, and I'm not sure if we should ever hope to reach the top or not.”

Douglas appears deep in contemplation for a moment, but then turns to his buddy and says. “So, Mr. Frank Ziska, what’s next?”

-Greg “dratsab” Huffman