“Oh great, not this again!” John exclaimed in utter frustration. He applied the brakes and they came screeching to a halt in front of the railroad tracks. Once again, a train was moving, at an absolute snail’s pace, across the tracks. “Ok, this is all right, I’m fine, we’re all fine. We just let this thing pass; we speed our way back through creepy hand-holding town and we never ever look back again.”
“Not to add to the whole creep factor of all this or anything, but quick question, John?”
“What!?”
“Wasn’t this road like a whole lot longer last night?”
John thought about it for a second, was entirely unable to process it along with the rest of the day’s events, and dismissed it; saying, “You know what? That’s still not even in the top five weirdest things that have happened to us in the last twenty-four hours.”
“Um, John,” Kurt said eyes wide, mouth gaping, pointing down the tracks.
“What is it now!?” John exclaimed, thoroughly frustrated. Kurt merely continued insistently pointing down the tracks. John looked at where Kurt was indicating and his jaw dropped open as well. He couldn’t believe, or even begin to comprehend what he saw taking place in front of him. He opened the door, got out of the car and walked methodically toward the tracks. It was as if he was in a daze. He stopped just a few paces from the train as it lazily clattered by him. Kurt got out as well, walked up to John and stood beside his oldest friend. Mac exited the vehicle as well and sat on the hood of the car, not seeming to take any interest in what was going on at all.
John and Kurt looked both ways down the tracks. The terrain was completely flat and there were no trees or any other obstructions to obscure their view. The result was that one could see for what seemed like miles in either direction and for all those long, desolate miles the train covered them all. They stood there, frozen in that spot, unable to speak; the rest of the world around them seemed to melt away in that terrible moment. All that existed was that train that simply could not exist. It was completely ludicrous, inconceivable even, but there they stood. A never-ending train had somehow appeared out of nowhere and had them trapped on the outskirts of Musicarolina. They were so wrapped up in the scene that was unfolding before them that they failed to even notice the police cruiser with the words, “Sheriff of the Village of Musicarolina,” blazoned in gold on the side, as it pulled up behind their idling vehicle. Then Sheriff Cane, a mountain of a man, stepped out and slammed his door shut. He held his shotgun menacingly in his crossed arms. The sound of the cruiser door slamming shut jolted them back into the unfortunate present. They turned to face the sheriff. “Oh well, that’s just perfect. I freaking love this day; it’s been soooo much fun,” John muttered and shook his head.
***
Sheriff Cane stood there, sizing them up. Finally he said, “Now boys, here’s the problem the way I see it. I seemed to have clocked you back there doing upwards of a hundred and fifty in a twenty five mile per hour zone. Now I know y’all are new here in town and everything, which is somewhat disorienting and all. I can grant you that, but that kind of driving is looked upon as a bit of a no-no hereabouts. You see, we’re funny like that. However, on the bright side, the fine for a ticket of that unbelievable magnitude will certainly go far in helping the town’s improvement fund. So, on behalf of the people of Musicarolina, which you fortunately managed to miss on your way outta town, I thank you for your generous contribution, even though I simply cannot in any way condone your reckless behavior. Now what do y’all have to say for yourselves?”
“I didn’t realize how fast I was going, Sheriff?” John replied, completely deadpan.
“Now that’s real funny that is, real funny indeed, fella. Unfortunately, this ain’t no laughing matter; so, on a more serious note perhaps, can I see your license and registration, Mister Curtis?”
“And just why do you need to see that? Apparently the whole town already knows my whole life story. My guess is that would include you; especially since you already seem to know my last name even though I haven’t met you once in my life.”
“Well that may be true, in fact, we both know it is; but it’s simply no reason to give up on the proper procedures, now is it? Now, license and registration please.”
John nodded dejectedly and said, “Fine, it’s in my bag in the trunk. I’ll get it.” He opened the car door, reached down and pulled the lever to pop the trunk. He moved to the back of the car, opened the trunk, quickly swooped his hand down, grabbed one of the shotguns and twirled around, pointing it right at the sheriff’s head. “Now, I am sorry for being overly dramatic and all, Sheriff, but I am having a rather bad day, to say the least. So I would suggest that you simply drop your shotgun and more importantly drop whatever magic, illusion, or whatever is going on with this train here and let us out of this town!”
Sheriff Cane never budged, never flinched; he never even moved his shotgun to defend himself. He merely stood tall, staring defiantly at John and said, “Well, I’m afraid I simply can’t oblige you there, boys. Fact is, you and your li’l friends there are now the newest permanent residents of Musicarolina.”
“Well, how about I decrease the town’s population by one then; how would that be for you, Sheriff?” John said rebelliously, while cocking his shotgun.
“Oh, Johnny boy, are we really going to play this tired ol’ game? We know you. We know you won’t just kill me in cold blood. What, am I supposed to believe you’d just shoot me down like a rabid dog right here in the street?”
“I suppose not; hey, quick thought though, how about we try this instead?” John quickly moved his aim from the sheriff’s head to his kneecap and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened; he pumped it again and pulled the trigger, to his dismay still nothing happened. Sheriff Cane grinned from ear to ear, but somehow his eyes still maintained a look of pure menace. Kurt ran over to John, grabbed one of the other shotguns and tried as well; still nothing happened. They lowered their guns together and stared at the sheriff whose grin was a mixture of pure amusement and malice, who now took his own shotgun and pointed it directly at them.
“First of all, I’d like to make it abundantly clear to y’all that my gun actually works. Don’t worry though, boys, it happens to all men at some time or another, or so I hear. Now secondly, believe it or not, we’ve come to expect there to be a certain adjustment period for our new citizens. Keeping that in mind, we thought it’d be best, for our own safety as well as yours, to relieve you of your ammunition last night while you so peacefully slumbered. As an added precaution, I also removed your bag of explosives and placed them within the safety and security of my police station, with only your best interests at heart; I assure you. See, fellas, one of the benefits of knowing everything about every single person who comes to your town is knowing if they have multiple loaded firearms in the trunk of their vehicle. However, I will say while guns are quite common with the citizenry here, I will freely admit to you that the bag of explosives you boys had was certainly a new one to me; bravo, gentleman. It is always a pleasure to be surprised after all these years. Anyway though, good effort out there, boys; good hustle and all that positive, motivational garbage.
However, I truly believe if your guns had been loaded, you’d have blown my kneecap clean off, and I am rather attached to them, so to speak. I will be sincerely trying not to hold that against our potential future friendship, especially since I don’t care for cute little nicknames like Stumpy. So this is where we are at right now, boys, in this rather volatile situation we have unfortunately found ourselves in; my gun here, I again assure you, is fully loaded. Oddly enough, if you can believe this one, with the very shells I took out of your guns. That’s a little thing I personally like to call poetic justice. Now as much as I truly enjoy new citizens joining our merry little town, if there’s any further misbehaving, I’ll be forced to decorate the street with your guts and put myself in for a sizeable raise for defending our fair town from a couple of real life desperados. So what�
��ll it be, boys?” he asked, then reached into a pocket on his belt and tossed two sets of handcuffs into the dirt in front of them.
“I really hate this town,” said John.
“Next time, can I pick our vacation?” Kurt responded.
***
Miserable, John and Kurt sat handcuffed in the back of the police cruiser. They didn’t look at each other, they didn’t think, they barely even breathed. No plans could come to mind as they were lost in the strangeness and enormity of their situation. Outside, the sheriff circled around to the front of their car where Mac had fallen asleep on the hood, completely missing out on the entire sequence of events. He firmly nudged Mac with the barrel of his shotgun. Mac opened his eyes and lazily said, “Oh good morning, officer. What seems to be the problem here?”
The sheriff smiled broadly at him and replied, “Why no problem at all, son. I’m just taking you and your friends here to get some breakfast.”
“Oh, score!” said Mac as the sheriff grabbed his arm and pulled him up. He led him over to the cruiser, opened the door and Mac eagerly squeezed in beside John and Kurt. He turned to them and said, “Oh hey guys, what’s up?” They each just shook their heads in a show of both amazement and pity.
The sheriff got into the driver’s seat and called back to them, “All right boys, get ready. I think it’s high time y’all met the mayor! Oh boy, is he gonna love you.”
CHAPTER 8
THE MAYOR OF MUSICAROLINA
The police cruiser leisurely made its way through the winding streets of Musicarolina. The sheriff drove much slower than he needed to; they imagined he was making some kind of overtly passive aggressive point about the manner in which they’d tried to leave town. In fact, Sheriff Cane was driving through town so gradually it would appear to any casual observer that happened to glance in their direction that he was merely giving the grand tour of the town to his “passengers,” but this obviously was not the case. He never spoke a word to them through the entire deliberate journey. He simply propelled the cruiser slowly but surely toward its ultimate destination. All the roads were still rustically paved in stone and the buildings had still retained their regal splendor of the previous night’s expedition through the town. They remained every bit as grand and picturesque as before, but the place no longer held the allure of a charming, if somewhat odd, tourist town that it once had. The town was now little more to them but an eerie, if well ornamented, prison of stone, and they felt as if they were now being led silently to the guillotine.
Finally the cruiser came to the end of its sluggish voyage through the streets and pulled to a stop in front of a large domed building with a sign that read “Musicarolina Town Hall”. Sheriff Cane exited, opened their door for them and led the group, John and Kurt still in handcuffs, to the front of the building. The front seemed to be a very small office that had merely been attached to the much larger domed portion of the building, which was simple and rounded, but altogether massive. It was much larger than a city hall for any town this size had a right to be. It appeared almost to have been constructed to be a stadium, arena, or some form of domed amphitheater. Sheriff Cane opened the front door to the office-like structure and ushered John, Kurt, and Mac inside. The office’s interior was shockingly decadent and caught them immediately by surprise with its lavishness. The room was filled with gigantic bizarre furniture pieces of various shapes, sizes, and builds. All of those assorted furniture pieces had massive luxurious red velvet pillows and all the floors and walls seemed to be covered in some form of plush white velvet. In the center of the room, a colossal, opulent chandelier hung from the ceiling. The walls of the office were lined with painstakingly, intricately carved shelves and display cases made of a polished black wood whose origin they did not know. Encased inside the display glass were relics from seemingly endless times and cultures long past.
“Oh, my dear sweet heavens; it looks like the national convention of rare antiquities dealers and flamboyant interior decorators exploded in here!” Kurt whispered.
“Methinks the mayor may be skimming a little of the ol’ tax dollars,” John replied.
“Well, what he should’ve stolen was some taste,” Kurt fired back in a hushed tone.
There, for the first time, they set eyes on the mayor of Musicarolina. He was seated behind an expansive black desk, presumably made of the same type of wood as the display cases. The chair he rested upon looked more like some kind of twisted throne and it was comprised of material that appeared to be either ivory or far worse, bone. The mayor rose up, straightened the tie on his expensive and flawlessly tailored suit, moved nimbly around the desk and stood looking at them, as they were nudged toward him by the “gentle” urgings of the sheriff and his trusty shotgun.
The mayor twirled a cane in one hand and raised his other in a gesture of warm and friendly greeting. He then burst forth in a surprisingly booming, for his smaller frame, and yet somehow still-inviting voice, “Hello gentleman, I must say I have simply been dying to meet you. You have caused quite the stir in our little hamlet here, no doubt. May I, in the interest of starting our acquaintanceship out on the right foot, offer my deepest and most heartfelt apologies that our first meeting together was not sooner and under more fortuitous circumstances?”
“Um, thanks?” they all responded in unison, looking at each other for a clue about how to react. The sheriff left them, still uncomfortably handcuffed, in the center of the room while he stepped back and took up a menacing pose as he guarded the front door.
“While I usually welcome the arrival of travelers to our little slice of paradise here with a certain feeling of reverence, and yes, even jubilation, I must sorrowfully confess that today I am filled with much trepidation and, dare I even say it, my friends, even consternation.”
“It certainly must be extraordinarily serious for you to break out the big vocab words like that,” John replied.
“Indeed it is, young sir, quite dreadfully serious indeed. I have been informed by my people, much to my shock and chagrin, that it seems you gentlemen have found yourselves less than enthralled with our enchanting little paradise here.”
“Well, it’s not that we don’t like it per se, so much as it scares the girly little panties off us,” John said, managing to smile charmingly as he did.
“Why is that, I wonder? Why does a little singing and dancing cause a few young, virile, strong, manly, men in the prime of their lives, like you three specimens, to quiver in your proverbial boots? Why, the last time I checked, folks ‘round these parts and all parts for that matter enjoy stepping out on a Friday evening and cutting a little loose, as the young people are so fond of saying these days. Now, I haven’t ever heard of a case where anyone was terrified of that. Well, there was the rather unique case of this preacher in a small town that I saw at the picture show once, but that is indeed a story for another time.”
“Oh, I’m sure that you have quite the legendary hootenannies round these parts, but I must say we aren’t quite used to it,” Kurt shot back.
“Well, I will grant you this, my dear, honored guests; I suppose it is a bit strange on the surface at first to outsiders such as yourselves, but trust me, if you give it the slightest modicum of time, you’ll begin to wonder why you didn’t fill every waking moment of every single glorious day of your existence with a little song and dance.”
“Yeah, well that may be so, but I’m afraid we won’t have much of a chance to test that theory. You see, we kind of had our hearts set on leaving soon, preferably quickly, no offense of course. It’s kind of like pulling off a bandage really, you gotta do it fast. It’ll hurt leaving all this wacky fun behind, but I’m sure, with time, we’ll make a full recovery,” John answered.
“Oh, I’m afraid you’d be wrong about that gentlemen. You see, unfortunately the magic in the air here that keeps our little town so blessed with rhythm and rhyme won’t allow for anyone to leave.”
“Excuse me? Can you run that by me one more time?”
“Oh, here we go,” Kurt said quietly. The mayor then began dancing slowly as the music swelled up to accompany his moves, and then, predictably, he launched into song.
Oh from the time when I was young I was haunted by a dream.
It sometimes seemed a bit foolish but I held it with great esteem.
And all the pains I took on, endured to realize it were truly extreme.
I found a place between the worlds, a tiny crack in existence’s plane.
So there I set up shop and began the sculpting of my eternal domain.
This would be a place where music, song and dance can forever reign.
I took great care in forming this, a world, a wondrous place all my own.
A world of rustic buildings, fantastic sights, and streets of cobbled stone.
But I knew it would never be truly complete if I found myself in it all alone.
So I opened that crack between the planes to let the people come in.
And I welcomed one and all to my town happily with a song and a grin.
It was then I found my dream had taken form and was starting to begin.
And so we lived here blissfully singin’ away for many a happy year.
We lived here in peace and harmony and just genuine good ol’ cheer.
And so here we find ourselves now in the present when you did appear.
You seem to hate and loathe our town so; you say it gives you the creeps.
You see not the splendor and beauty here, fear into your heart it seeps.
And for your tragic sadness and for your fear all Musicarolina weeps.
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