Triple Josh. That rocks.
Be sure to say howdy and leave your comments as she's also brought with her... a giveaway.
Welcome back Andrea. :)
This blog tour is an attempt to be different, and an attempt to go back to my serial roots. Each blog post will have a segment in a running story, pages from Josh's diary, about his first encounter with the tragic figure of Dan Fosse. Why is he tragic? Read on, and you will find out.
I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you check out the Josh of the Damned Triple Feature.
Josh of the Damned: Black and White and Furry All Over
12:17 – I got into work on time, although the rain was just pissing down, and I figured the werewolf pee smell would be washed away would be replaced by the reek of wet dog. It wasn't something I was looking forward to. I'd barely had time to dry off before this guy came into the store, one who could have been homeless or hipster. You know, a guy with thrift store clothes, a full beard, and wild, shaggy hair that seemed to scream “I just came from Burning Man”. But he could also be just a homeless guy. He came up to the counter, wild eyed and dripping, and asked me if this was Earth. So I decided this was a crazy guy, but tried to confirm it, hoping it wouldn't set him off.
As it turned out, it kind of did. He sighed and seemed like he was about to cry, and told me he'd been stuck in hell for all this time, and he had no idea how he got there. He said he just woke up there one day, and it was weird, because he didn't feel dead, and it was full of zombies and lizard guys and stuff. That's when I revised my opinion, 'cause he was describing all my customers.
According to Colin, no humans were over in the hell dimension, and it was only hell to us – to the members of that dimension, it was really nice. So was this guy crazy but surprisingly accurate, or had he honestly been lost over there? Could Colin have been wrong? Or worse yet, lying?
Was that fair? I mean, yeah, Colin's a vampire, and that never stops being weird, but he hasn't really given me a reason not to trust him. Except he claims he has no memories of his human life, even though he also says he's three hundred years old. If he can't remember anything, how does he remember his age?
So I get the guy to calm down, and I bust open a roll of paper towels 'cause I don't have a towel and he's dripping over everything. He was hungry, so I let him have a piece of beef jerky, and he sat on an empty beer cooler and told me what little he knew about what had happened to him.
He said his name was Dan, and he used to work at the San Diego zoo cleaning cages. It wasn't a great job, but he was hoping it would help him in veterinary school. A lizard guy came in while he was trying to remember his last day on Earth, and they exchanged wary glances, but nothing came of it. The lizard just bought his Pringles and left.
Dan couldn't quite remember his last day on Earth. In fact, when I told him what year it was, he almost fell off the cooler. He started asking questions which I really couldn't answer _ I don't follow sports; I only know who wins what championships when their city's riots make the news – so I handed him a People to read while I rang up a couple of zombies who came in for their burrito fix.
That was a huge mistake, as he asked me what a Snookie was, and I had no idea how to explain that to him. I don't like reality shows either! Reminds me too much of what little family I have. So I sort of winged it, and he didn't understand why reality shows were so big on TV. The last show he remembered watching was something called Without A Trace, and he asked me about it. Having never watched it, I couldn't tell him a thing.
Somehow he made the one stick of beef jerky last over an hour. He was nibbling on it like a rabbit. I wasn't all that surprised when he said he felt woozy. I wasn't sure I completely believed him, crazy homeless guy wasn't off the table, but the fact that he didn't freak out when he saw lizards and zombies was a point in his favor. Somewhat against my better judgment, I showed him the back room, and told him he could lie down there - for now. I made it clear he wasn't making this his new home. And I didn't bother to tell him not to steal anything, because he couldn't get out the back door. The werewolves had apparently been nibbling on the door handle, and now you couldn't open the thing at all. I guess it was technically a fire hazard, but I didn't think it would be much of an issue, what with the current endless downpour outside.
It was maybe ten minutes later, when I was selling Fritos to a lizard guy who looked kind of hung over (could lizard guys be hung over? Or was he just sick or something?) when I first heard the noise.
End of Part 1