Journey

   Hey guys!  Owen Tucker is back.  And I do believe that last week I left you guys with something of a cliff hanger.  Just a wee bitty one.  But big enough that I’m dispensing with this part here and getting right down to the journal thingy!
   7/19/12:  On this date (that being the 7th of July in the year 2012) I had just gotten into this Asian dude’s car and…wait a second.  That happened last week.  Uh.  Lemme think here.  Oh whatever.  I think there was kind of time freeze for a whole week in my time, so I stayed in the same spot, same time while a whole week went by for you reader people. 
   Okay, so, with that out of the way, back to the story.
   As soon as I got seated in the car, the Asian dude slammed the gas and shot forward.
   “Whoa!” I yelled. “Hold up, man.”
   He smashed the brakes just as hard as he had the gas and I nearly got a concussion from the dashboard.
   “How can I possibly direct you if you’re going a million miles an hour?” I asked.
   He thought for a second, then shrugged. “Real fast?”
   I shook my head. “No.  You go real slow, and then I can tell you where to go.”
   He thought about this for another second, then shook his head. “No got time.”
   He hit the gas again and we flew forward, disregarded stop signs, stop lights, and basically the fact that there were other drivers on the road.  In fact, I’m pretty sure that we got hit a few times.  We were just going so fast that we didn’t feel the effects. 
   After about five minutes of that, we came to another abrupt halt, and I think I did get a concussion that time. 
   The dude jumped out, came over to my side, and opened the door. “Come.”
   The world was spinning, but somehow I managed to get out of my seat belt and stumbled out of the car.  Unfortunately my vision had gone all black and blotchy on me, so I couldn’t tell where we had arrived at.  My chauffeur took my arm and led me along to—somewhere.
   “Where the heck are we?” I asked after I failed yet another attempt to look around.
   “You soon see,” my guide replied.
   “Not if my eyes keep going like this,” I mumbled.
   “Pst!  Boyo!” came a voice with a Scottish accent.
   I looked around. “Who dat?”
   “What you talking about?” Asian man asked.
   I shrugged. “No idea.  Everythin’s a bit blurry for me right now.  All your fault, by the way.  Crazy driver…”
   There was a few seconds of silence.
   “Hey.  Et’s me.  Wilfred de Wasper.  An’ for goodness sake, doon’t reply oot loud.”
   I, however, never follow orders. “Well how else I’m I supposed to reply?  Last I checked flies aren’t flippin’ telepaths.”
   We stopped moving.  I think my companion was staring at me, but I couldn’t be sure because a nice big, black blotch had decided to sit right where his face was supposed to be at that moment.
   “You okay?” he asked.
   “No, I’m not,” I replied, just a bit peeved. “You fairly cracked my skull open on that last dead stop you pulled, so I am most certainly not okay.”
   He tapped me on the head. “That better?”
   I was about to come back with my usual smart retort, when, surprisingly, my vision cleared.
   “Uh,” was all I could come up with.
   The Asian dude, whose face I could now see, smiled. “Good.”
   “Ah swear, ef you reply ta this oot loud, Ah’ll bite ya.”
   I couldn't help myself.  It was just the automatic reaction.
   “You’re a fly,” I replied out loud. “Flies don’t bite.”
   Something bit me.  I’ve been known to be wrong before. 
   Now the Asian guy, whose name I should really learn if only so that I can call him by something other than his nationality, was staring at me really strangely. 
   “Who you talking to?” he asked.
   “Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhh…” Best stalling tactic ever. “Myself.  I do love a good conversation with myself.  Don’t you?”
   He shook his head slowly, the strange look never leaving his face. “Nnnooo.”  He paused for a second. “I prefer talking to myself.  Ahahahahahahahahaha!”
   I gave a few half-hearted chuckles so that he wouldn’t feel bad and waited for him to stop laughing.  It took a bit, apparently he was one of those who thinks himself to be a great comedian, but eventually he stopped.
   “Okay,” he said, as he wiped away a few tears. “Now we go.”
   “Where are we going?”
   “You see.”
   I hate that answer.

   To be continued…next week!...